The Next Day.
Carrington Training Base.
After submitting his detailed match analysis to Jose Mourinho, Ling enjoyed the rare luxury of going back to sleep, planning to take the day off as instructed.
But lying there, staring at the ceiling, he felt increasingly restless. His body craved the rhythm of exertion.
So, he jumped out of bed, changed into his training gear, and went downstairs to train alone.
They say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit—since his rebirth ten months ago, he hadn't wasted a single day.
Yet he found genuine joy in it.
The sweat, the repetition, the progress.
During a water break, Ling focused his mind and opened his system interface.
Through relentless training, his shooting, speed, and physical attributes—the three most crucial stats for his position—had rapidly improved, now just 3-4 points away from his template ceilings.
'I wonder what rewards the system will give for winning the Premier League?'
'And the Premier League Golden Boot?'
But the competition for the latter was too fierce—he wasn't overly confident, especially with Mohamed Salah in such alien form.
Even if he couldn't win the Golden Boot this season, Ling vowed that next season he'd show the world just how devastating he could be at full throttle.
"Too bad Liverpool's opponents aren't strong either," Ling muttered to himself, thinking about the other game.
Ling muttered to himself, then shook his head and continued training.
No matter what others do, focusing on oneself is what matters most.
As long as he gave his all to strive for it, there was no need to lament if the result wasn't satisfactory.
....
Later that day.
In the manager's office.
Mourinho and Ling sat watching the other semi-final.
"Real Madrid's goalkeeper is strong. Who do you think is better, Keylor Navas or David De Gea?" Mourinho asked, testing his player.
"Dave," Ling answered instantly, using the nickname the squad had for the Spaniard.
"He's the best in the world right now."
Even Jan Oblak, the world's most consistent goalkeeper, in Ling's opinion, couldn't compare to the current De Gea, who was saving United points almost weekly.
Currently, Salah led the scoring charts with 37 goals across all competitions, while he himself was in second place with 36 goals.
Fortunately, Man United's last two matches were against weaker teams.
On the screen, Liverpool strung together quick passes outside the box, Salah lofted a pass to Roberto Firmino, and Navas decisively rushed out to collect the ball.
"If we drag the match to a penalty shootout in the final, which position would you want to take?" Mourinho asked suddenly.
"First," Ling said firmly.
Mourinho nodded with satisfaction, "Good attitude. But I'd prefer you to take the last penalty. Zlatan is more suited to go first, or maybe Pogba."
...
Back at the Santiago Bernabéu, Liverpool's morale was high despite the deficit.
They launched a fierce offensive from the start.
After Ramos blocked a shot, Trent Alexander-Arnold's follow-up attempt lacked power and was once again pushed out for a corner by Navas.
Having won La Liga (in previous years) and broken points and goals records, no one doubted that Real Madrid would win the match.
But Ling knew the real drama would unfold in the second half.
In his memory, Loris Karius would commit a massive, absolutely enormous mistake that would make even the most neutral commentator curse under his breath.
To his surprise, however, the expected blunder never occurred in this timeline.
Karius performed with remarkable steadiness, perhaps because the pressure of the Champions League semifinal wasn't intense enough compared to the final.
In the 52nd minute of the match.
Anfield seemed to be ignited—wait, they were in Rome.
'No, Ling focused.'
His memories of the previous timeline were blurring.
James Milner delivered a corner kick from the right side to the area near the penalty spot.
Dejan Lovren headed the ball across to the edge of the six-yard box, and Sadio Mané, positioned in front of the goal, headed it into the net.
The aggregate score became tight.
Liverpool still had an away goal advantage.
They only needed to score one more goal to advance to the final.
Ling suppressed a flicker of anticipation.
Although he always talked about not fearing strong opponents, who wouldn't want to face a weaker one?
He was no exception.
Compared to Real Madrid, a team with formidable overall strength and no apparent weaknesses, he would much rather face Liverpool in the final—after all, Man United had beaten Liverpool twice this season.
Mourinho, however, remained silent.
He knew Real Madrid wouldn't be easily defeated.
After the wild celebrations subsided, the match resumed.
In the 63rd minute.
Salah was dragged to the ground by Sergio Ramos.
Slow-motion replays showed that Ramos had used a joint-lock technique similar to an arm-lock from judo, subjecting Salah's left shoulder to immense pressure.
After receiving treatment from the medical staff, Salah, tears in his eyes, had no choice but to leave the field.
Ramos didn't even receive a yellow card.
Ling couldn't help but shudder, thinking it was a move designed to injure—one misstep could lead to lasting consequences.
Mourinho frowned slightly but said nothing. He respected the dark arts, even if he didn't say it aloud.
Just ten minutes later.
"Look carefully. Real Madrid's apparent attacking focus is on the right, aiming to overwhelm Milner, but their real target is on the left," Mourinho pointed out.
Before Mourinho finished speaking, Luka Modrić, with nimble footwork, evaded the pressing from Milner and Jordan Henderson and delivered a precise outside-of-the-foot pass to the left flank.
Marcelo, as if his feet were coated with glue, controlled the ball effortlessly before sweeping it into the penalty area.
Karim Benzema's run pulled Lovren out of position.
Ronaldo met the ball with a thunderous strike!
The ball brushed past Karius's fingertips and nestled into the net.
1-1!
Real Madrid's goal shattered Liverpool's morale.
The remainder of the match was uneventful and ended in a draw, but Real Madrid advanced on aggregate.
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