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Moments later, the second half got underway.
The Hoffenheim players were still chatting as they walked through the tunnel.
"We have to take our chances in the second half."
"Exactly. Liverpool aren't that scary. If we seize the opportunities, we can overturn the aggregate score after the break!"
"Come on, lads! We're going to the Champions League group stage!"
Their confidence from the first half was obvious—right up until they reached their own half, lined up, and lifted their heads to face the Liverpool players in front of them.
A crushing sense of pressure hit them all at once, completely different from the first half.
More aggressive. More lethal.
It was as if eleven demons stood there with grim faces, eyes burning with fire and desire, staring straight at Hoffenheim. The sight alone sent chills through their ranks.
"Something feels different."
"Liverpool look like they're about to strike back," Jon Champion noted sharply, immediately sensing the shift in atmosphere on the pitch.
In the Sky Sports commentary booth, Gerrard leaned back comfortably in his chair, crossed his legs, and lost all the tension he'd shown in the first half.
"Just wait," Gerrard said, glancing at Neville.
"The real show is about to start."
Neville, a Manchester United legend, curled his lips in displeasure. Naturally, he had no desire to see their bitter rivals Liverpool playing in the Champions League.
The second half had barely begun when Leo Lin pushed his position higher, and Liverpool immediately re-established their high press.
"The press is ferocious in the attacking third! Hoffenheim can no longer build from the back!"
"They're still closing down! Hübner has the ball and is forced to clear it long—he doesn't dare hold it for even a second!"
"The ball drops into midfield, Henderson gets there first, muscles past Demirbay, and lays it off to Emre Can!"
"A quick return pass—what a lovely touch! Liverpool regain control!"
Hoffenheim were slowly coming to the realization that possession was no longer theirs.
55th minute.
"Demirbay carries the ball through the middle, Leo Lin steps in and applies intense pressure!"
Demirbay tried to drive forward and launch a counterattack, but Leo Lin's strength locked him firmly in place from behind.
He strained to turn, forcing his body again and again, but after several failed attempts, Demirbay could only play the ball back in frustration.
The pass went to Hübner—but before he could smash it clear, Firmino arrived as part of the high press.
With clever positioning, he intercepted the back pass cleanly.
A gasp rippled through the Anfield crowd as Firmino immediately slipped a diagonal pass through to Salah.
Salah initially looked ready to take it himself—this was his territory.
Hoffenheim's defenders were completely drawn toward him, the entire defensive line dropping back. Some had even retreated all the way to the goal line, trying to help the goalkeeper cover more space.
Just as the golden opportunity seemed about to slip away, a shout rang out in Salah's ear.
"Salah!"
"Here!"
Leo Lin surged forward late, perfectly positioned at the top of the penalty arc.
Behind him, Demirbay sprinted back in desperation, his face full of panic.
"Snap!" Salah pulled it back with a sharp cut-back.
Precise.
Piercing.
Leo Lin lifted his foot.
Drawing the bow.
Swinging the arm.
The power of a cannon seemed to possess him.
It felt as though a surge of force erupted from the soles of his feet, rushing through his body and concentrating entirely on the instep of his left foot as it met the ball.
Leo Lin felt the moment had arrived.
Shooting was the only thing on his mind.
"BOOM!!!"
He poured every ounce of strength into the strike.
A thunderous, violent shot!
Baumann stood rooted to the spot. He should have dived—but there was simply no time.
He didn't even manage to turn his head before the dull thud of the ball hitting the net echoed through the stadium.
"BOOM!!!"
"GOAL!!!!"
"Lin scores!!!!!"
Gerrard leapt up, pumping his fists.
"Lin!"
"Off Salah's pass, he breaks the deadlock and extends Liverpool's aggregate lead!"
"What a strike!"
"Perfect contact!"
"Pure violent beauty!"
"Who could still question Spain wanting to call Lin up? I only wish he could play for England!"
Gerrard had let his true feelings slip.
Live chat exploded.
"Joining Spain is the right move. With Kane in England's squad, it's hard to fight for trophies."
"Lopetegui is in the stands, and so is Denia. They're clearly here to scout Lin—I bet they're satisfied now!"
"That power! That speed! You just can't defend against it!"
Leo Lin was buried under a pile of teammates as they celebrated wildly.
Jon Champion chuckled as he spoke.
"That was Liverpool's very first shot of the match—and it goes straight in. Brilliant!"
"Klopp's tactical setup has been absolutely spot on. This is what a top team looks like!"
"They're willing to keep a low profile, but when the moment comes, they deliver."
With the aggregate score stretched even further, Hoffenheim grew increasingly anxious.
After the restart, Hoffenheim threw everything forward. But the higher they pushed, the more space they left behind—and the more counterattacking chances they handed Liverpool.
70th minute.
"Once again down the flank, a direct ball over the top finds Gnabry!"
"He cuts inside!"
"Intercepted!"
"Moreno reads it perfectly!"
"Gnabry always cuts inside when he gets the ball—far too predictable!"
Moreno won it cleanly, while Leo Lin immediately made a sharp off-the-ball run to stretch the flank.
Moreno's pass arrived right on cue.
Leo Lin took one touch and moved it on.
His vision was clear—he'd already spotted Salah on the right.
Salah controlled and burst forward, cutting inside along the flank as if no one was there.
Reaching the edge of the box, he lifted his foot and curled a shot toward goal.
A stunning effort flew into the top-left corner.
"Swish!!!"
"What a goal!"
"Hahaha!"
"That seals it!"
"Liverpool score again—the aggregate lead is now overwhelming!"
"Leo Lin with a goal and an assist!"
Salah sprinted toward Leo Lin and wrapped him in a hug as Klopp made another substitution.
With the match moving into the final stretch and Liverpool firmly in control, Klopp chose to rotate his key players.
"Leo Lin, Salah, and Firmino are all coming off. Klopp is clearly thinking about the next league match."
"Only with proper rest can the core players keep performing at this level."
After the substitutes came on, Liverpool settled the tempo once more, calmly running down the clock and showing complete control of the game's rhythm.
Finally, the full-time whistle blew.
"Congratulations to Liverpool on securing the win and advancing to the Champions League group stage!"
"They were outstanding…"
In the stands, Barnett picked up his phone.
"Beep—"
"Beep—"
...
"Hello?"
"Bianca Di?"
"Tomorrow's front page and the top three sports trends—I want them all to be about Lin's performance in this match."
"No need for sponsors. My agency will handle it. Get me the headline."
"I want more coverage on Lin—especially highlighting his recent outstanding form!"
Barnett was fully playing the role of an agent now.
The campaign to push Leo Lin toward the Golden Boy Award had officially begun.
...
(60 Chapters Ahead)
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