On the neighboring Manchester United bench.
Mourinho looked to his right and said gravely, "Zlatan, warm up quickly and get ready to come on. Don't let me down."
"Don't worry!" Ibrahimovic took a deep breath and pulled on a vest.
Faria slumped in his seat, his gaze vacant.
Manchester United players instinctively looked toward Ling, for they all felt despair.
Ling's face showed no expression, like a calm and clear lake, bringing tranquility to those who saw it.
He silently walked into the goal, scooped the ball into his arms, and jogged all the way to the center circle.
The celebrating Real Madrid players watched this scene, feeling an inexplicable sense of dread.
They felt this man was like an unkillable cockroach.
What kind of experiences could forge such an indomitable heart?
Ling looked up at the blazing lights above.
Inadvertently, he recalled scenes from before his rebirth.
In the dimly lit room, he lay on the bed, exuding an aura of decay.
His unkempt beard and gaunt face revealed his decadence, as if trapped by a heavy lock.
He had completely abandoned himself and his future.
Even a simple recollection felt suffocating and desperate.
Compared to those painful experiences, what was happening now seemed insignificant.
At least he could still see hope and a path forward, so he would not give up!
Since the journey ahead was bound to have ugly trenches, he believed that relentless effort was his greatest reliance for transformation.
Valencia, lying on the ground, wiped his face and silently stood up!
De Gea fiercely punched the goalpost, using the pain to awaken his dormant fighting spirit!
Pogba quietly crouched to tighten his shoelaces, telling himself he must not lose to Ling!
Drury: "He who harbors thunder in his chest yet maintains a calm countenance is worthy of being a great general! Man United are down, but are they out?"
...
Extra Time: Second Half
The Man United players united, launching a full-scale assault.
Real Madrid retreated into their own half, strictly adhering to Zidane's instructions.
113th minute of the match.
Kovacic made a forward run to draw defenders, then utilized Ling, who had cut inside centrally, to complete a switch from left to right.
The ball arrived at Pogba's feet.
Facing Modrić's precise tackle, the French prodigy executed a Marseille turn, showcasing his ingenuity and skill.
As he reached the edge of the penalty area, his dark thigh swung high, and upon contact with the ball, he deftly flicked it forward.
The ball sailed over Nacho's head and dropped toward the right side of the box.
Ibrahimović!
He made a move no one expected, leaning his body sharply forward while swinging his right foot forcefully backward! Like a scorpion lashing its tail!
Smack!
The ball arced like a brilliant rainbow—but Navas produced another miraculous save!
Leaping on the spot, he palmed the ball over the crossbar!
No one lingered in frustration. Pogba hurriedly retrieved the ball from the ball boy for the corner.
Ronaldo's breath-taking hang time allowed him to easily win the first header.
Kovacic, arriving for the second ball, unleashed a powerful long-range shot!
The ball struck Nacho's thigh and ricocheted to an uncertain spot in the penalty area!
Lingard!
He stretched his right leg with all his might—a touch would have meant a goal.
But alas, his leg wasn't long enough.
The effort even caused him to cramp up, pain washing over him like a tide.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to rise.
As the referee prepared to call for the stretcher, the Manchester United No. 14 refused his teammates' help, urging them to continue the attack while he dragged himself awkwardly out of play.
Was it pitiable, laughable, or admirable? The scene moved everyone.
Manchester United were temporarily down to 10 men, but they refused to give up hope.
...
In the stands, Marius and Valentina had shouted themselves hoarse.
"Do you think Jeremy can win?" Marius's tone had lost much of its confidence.
"You asked the same question when it was 2-1, and what happened? If you don't have faith in Jeremy, then don't be his fan!" Valentina scolded.
Maria looked at the two youngsters, a smile curling at the corners of her lips.
She believed a miracle would happen.
As for the reason? Those who fear nothing will ultimately live as they wish.
Pep Guardiola's expression was stern and serious as he silently pulled out his phone and sent a text message.
[Halt all other player acquisitions. Reserve the entire budget. Make an offer as long as Man United quotes.]
Man City needed such a player.
...
117th minute of the match.
Real Madrid won the ball in their own half and launched a counterattack.
Varane's long pass found Gareth Bale.
Luke Shaw chased back with everything he had!
The world remembers Bale's top speed as 34.7 km/h, but few recall Shaw's was 34.5 km/h.
He threw his entire body forward, bridging the seemingly insurmountable gap!
The two tangled and fell to the ground.
Shaw was fortunate—the ball was closer to him.
Lying on the damp turf, he used his head to nod it toward Pogba on the right.
Closing in to press were Casemiro and Toni Kroos!
With Lingard off the pitch, a gap had opened on Manchester United's right, allowing Toni Kroos to join the press.
Pogba seemed to have rediscovered the form of the world's best midfielder.
He wanted to show the world that with the right attitude, he was the king of the pitch!
He raised his left foot and dragged the ball sharply backward!
Then used his right foot to flick it in the opposite direction!
An elegant trajectory instantly appeared on the pitch.
He slipped effortlessly through the double team.
Snap!
With a crisp sound, the ball soared and whistled through the air.
Ibrahimović firmly held off Nacho, who was completely outmatched, and glanced at the young man charging from the side as if saying something.
Then he gently nudged the ball forward with his forehead.
The ball caromed and rolled backward.
Everyone instantly understood—he was setting up the cannon!
And the target?
Man United's number 7 descended like a meteor from the heavens, carrying an unstoppable momentum!
Luka Modrić was right beside him, throwing himself into a desperate collision!
BOOM!
A fierce clash of muscle against muscle!
Ling's body swayed as his center of gravity shifted, but he quickly regained balance.
After a full match, Modrić's stamina had reached its limit, and besides, his body weight wasn't particularly high.
This was the most basic law of physics.
Modrić could only watch helplessly as the football continued its descent.
In the warm summer breeze blowing from the Atlantic, the red jersey fluttered like a fiercely burning flame.
It seemed intent on consuming everything.
Time seemed to slow in the Olympic Stadium.
Hundreds of millions around the world instinctively held their breath.
Ling made his final adjustments before shooting, his right leg coiling like a spring storing energy.
As sweat dripped from his temple, all the power in his body erupted—shattering that bead of sweat and striking the ball.
Boom!
With an earth-shattering explosive sound, the ball deformed violently, instantly lifting off the ground.
This time Navas didn't even have a chance to touch the ball.
It drilled into the corner, clinging to the white net while spinning madly.
3-3!!!
"STOP THE CLOCK! HOLD THE FRONT PAGE!" Peter Drury screamed, his voice breaking into pure hysteria.
"JEREMY LING! THE BOY FROM THE EAST HAS ARRIVED TO SAVE THE WEST!"
"HE HAS BLASTED OPEN THE GATES OF HEAVEN WITH A THUNDERBOLT FROM HELL!"
"MODRIC BOUNCED OFF HIM LIKE A PEBBLE OFF A TANK! NAVAS DIDN'T EVEN SMELL IT!"
"IT IS 3-3 IN THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE FINAL! THE GALAXY BATTLESHIP HAS BEEN TORPEDOED AGAIN!"
"THEY THOUGHT THEY HAD KILLED HIM! THEY THOUGHT THEY HAD KILLED UNITED! BUT THE RED DEVILS NEVER DIE!"
"LISTEN TO THIS NOISE! KIEV IS SHAKING! THE WORLD IS SHAKING! WE. ARE. GOING. TO. PENALTIES, AND JEREMY LING HAS DRAGGED THEM THERE BY THE SCRUFF OF THE NECK!"
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