All the Liverpool fans in the stadium erupted into wild celebration, each clutching their heads in disbelief.
On the touchline, Klopp stood in the pouring rain, yet he felt no cold at all—only a burning heat coursing through his body.
He yanked open his shirt collar, repeatedly rubbing the back of his head as he paced back and forth. Beside him, Krawietz sprinted wildly with his arms raised. Everyone was stunned by Leo Lin's rain-soaked volley!
"It's hard to believe that was even a shot—and he actually scored!"
"That's outrageous! That's not a normal shooting technique at all!"
"Did he step on an invisible platform in mid-air, or was something lifting him up from below? I honestly can't figure it out!"
"A moment of pure football brilliance—this is the beauty of the game. This is football!"
No one held back their praise for Leo Lin. In the Sky Sports commentary booth, Gerrard swayed his head as if dazed, completely overwhelmed by the goal.
"I'd say this goal has already locked up this season's Puskás Award."
"Absolutely!"
Beside him, Jamie Carragher nodded vigorously. "Couldn't agree more, mate!"
"This is a serious contender for the Puskás Award this year!"
The Puskás Award recognizes the most beautiful goal scored in a calendar year, regardless of competition level—even amateur leagues can submit entries.
Over the years, it has honored stunning long-range screamers and iconic bicycle kicks.
And Leo Lin's goal had clearly reached that level.
Leo Lin sprinted over and kicked the corner flag as Liverpool players rushed in and surrounded him. In the stands, amid the celebrating Liverpool supporters, a silver-haired old man stood out.
He, too, was celebrating wildly—but soon, a look of pain crept onto his face.
"My foot!"
"My foot!"
Barnett suddenly dropped back into his seat as his assistant hurried over.
In his excitement, Barnett had stepped awkwardly onto the back of the seat in front of him, badly twisting his left foot.
"It's swollen."
The assistant lifted it to check. Even just after the injury, swelling was already visible. By tomorrow, it would likely be much worse.
Barnett grimaced. He knew he wasn't young anymore.
With about half an hour left in the match, he refused to leave and insisted on watching until the end.
Lallana, who had been preparing to come on, was now unable to play. Seeing his side take the lead again, Klopp immediately gestured for Milner.
Lallana showed no frustration and accepted the decision.
"Liverpool make a quick substitution—Milner comes on for Wijnaldum. They're looking to strengthen control in midfield."
Wenger still hadn't made any changes, but the light in his eyes had dimmed noticeably.
The Arsenal players all had their eyes on Leo Lin, especially Giroud.
He was no stranger to spectacular goals himself, having scored a famous scorpion kick.
But replaying Leo Lin's mid-air double-contact volley in his mind, even he felt a chill run down his spine, the image looping over and over like a film.
Play resumed!
With the lead restored, Liverpool stood united and threw everything into defense.
After coming on, Milner helped steady the tempo. Liverpool set up a compact defensive structure, fully committed to shutting down Arsenal!
80th minute!
"A long ball forward finds Giroud, who flicks it on to the right."
"Iwobi tries to use his pace to power through again—but he's dispossessed!"
"No breakthrough this time!"
"Excellent defending from Robertson—he earns a round of applause from the crowd!"
86th minute!
"Liverpool continue to threaten on the counter, preventing Arsenal from committing too many players forward."
"Xhaka drives forward—Leo Lin steps in head-on, shoulder to shoulder!"
"Xhaka goes down! The referee blows for a foul—that could be dangerous."
"Leo Lin already picked up a yellow for kicking the corner flag earlier. The referee doesn't show a second yellow here, and Arsenal players are furious!"
"Xhaka looks livid—he charges forward to provoke him! Leo Lin must keep his composure!"
"If he falls into Xhaka's trap, he could be sent off with a second yellow!"
Xhaka deliberately stepped in to provoke Leo Lin, counting on the hot-headedness of youth.
But Leo Lin remained completely calm, smiling as he took a step back.
Firmino and Mané immediately moved in, one on each side, holding Xhaka back and keeping him away from Leo Lin.
"Hahaha!" Jon Champion burst out laughing.
He couldn't help himself.
"Leo Lin is incredibly intelligent—not just in footballing terms, but mentally as well."
"He knows exactly when to engage and when to walk away, always protecting himself at the right moment."
"He doesn't feel like a young player at all—he plays like a seasoned veteran."
Play resumed, with time running out.
Despite Arsenal throwing everything forward, they couldn't turn things around. The final whistle blew, and Liverpool players erupted in celebration!
"The match is over!"
"Congratulations to Liverpool—they've reached the FA Cup final and now have another trophy within reach!"
"A top-class encounter—both sides showed outstanding technical and tactical quality…"
As Jon Champion's voice carried the closing remarks, a brilliant day came to an end.
...
At 9 a.m. the next morning, Leo Lin was pushing Barnett—his foot wrapped in a simple bandage—through a park.
After the match last night, Leo Lin had heard about Barnett's injury. Fortunately, a hospital check confirmed it wasn't serious.
A minor fracture—no surgery required, just about a month of rest.
So early that morning, Leo Lin bought a wheelchair and took Barnett out for some fresh air.
They chatted happily—until Barnett began to sense something was off.
At some point, Leo Lin had quietly pushed him out of the park and into a flower shop nearby.
"What's this? Planning to buy flowers?" Barnett asked, puzzled.
Leo Lin smiled.
Barnett's heart tightened instantly, a chill running down his spine.
He recognized that smile all too well.
It was the same look he used to have as a child—right before getting up to something mischievous.
A sense of unease crept in.
Barnett realized he had walked straight into Leo Lin's trap.