For Chelsea, the League Cup is usually seen as a "chicken rib"—something of little value but hard to discard. But in this rebuilding season, at a moment when trophies are desperately needed to stabilize morale, Mourinho is determined to win this trophy.
The semi-final opponent was Middlesbrough.
This was a mid-table team from the Championship. They had upset Aston Villa in the previous round and were known as this season's dark horse.
But in the face of absolute power, a dark horse usually turns into a dead horse.
First leg, away match. The wind at the Riverside Stadium was bone-chilling.
Middlesbrough's manager, Carrick, had clearly studied Chelsea's last match. He deployed heavy forces in the midfield, attempting to cut off the connection between Lin Yuan and the front line.
"Don't let him turn! Don't let him play the ball!" This was the phrase Carrick shouted most from the sidelines.
But he missed one thing.
When you commit three people to block one defensive midfielder, other spaces become as wide as the ocean.
In the 15th minute, Lin Yuan received the ball in the center circle. Three Middlesbrough players immediately formed a circle around him.
Lin Yuan didn't pass, nor did he try to break through.
He just stood there, shielding the ball with his back, like a steel nail driven into the ground. No matter how his opponents behind him bumped, kicked his heels, or pulled his jersey, he remained motionless.
This terrifying display of static strength left the entire audience breathless.
Three seconds later, Enzo and Caicedo had already run into huge gaps.
Only then did Lin Yuan leisurely knock the ball sideways.
A simple transfer, yet because he had drawn too much defensive fire, it became a lethal prelude to an assist. After receiving the ball, Enzo drove straight in and assisted Sterling for the opening goal.
"He's utilizing his own deterrent power."
On the commentary booth, Gary Neville pointed out incisively, "The current Lin Yuan, even if he stands still, is a massive tactical nuclear weapon. Because no one dares to leave him open, and no one dares to mark him one-on-one."
In the end, there was no suspense in the two-legged tie.
A 2-0 away win, and returning to the home ground at Stamford Bridge, they even produced a high score of 4-1.
Although Lin Yuan didn't score in the two games, nor did he have a stunning hat-trick of assists like the last match, he was like the midfield metronome... no, more accurately, the midfield steamroller. He leveled the road, and his teammates only needed to run on it.
Aggregate score 6-1.
Chelsea marched proudly into the League Cup final.
When the final whistle blew at Stamford Bridge, information about the final flashed on the big screen:
February 25, 2024, Wembley Stadium.
Chelsea VS Liverpool.
At this moment, the more than forty thousand fans in the stadium were in no hurry to celebrate the victory; instead, they sang a modified battle song in unison.
The lyrics were filled with a thirst for revenge.
A month ago, they were humiliated at Anfield; that 1-3 defeat was like a thorn in the heart of every Blues fan. Lin Yuan's red card had been mocked by Liverpool fans for an entire month.
In the center of the pitch, Chelsea players were thanking the stands.
Lin Yuan walked last.
He looked up at the giant Liverpool crest on the big screen—the bright red Liver Bird.
A faint phantom pain suddenly came from his brow—an old injury from Anfield. Although it had long healed, his body seemed to still remember that humiliation.
Mourinho walked over and patted his shoulder.
"Are you ready?" The veteran manager's voice was low and raspy.
Lin Yuan withdrew his gaze and turned to look at Mourinho. There was no fanaticism in his eyes, only a heart-palpitating calmness, like the deathly silence of the sea before a storm.
"Boss," Lin Yuan said, "this time, I don't want to just be a shield."
Mourinho smiled. That was his favorite look.
"Then go be that spear." Mourinho pointed towards Wembley, "Go turn their red into our blue."
Lin Yuan nodded.
In his current attribute panel, [Passing] was B+, [Defending] was S, and [Stamina] was S.
But it wasn't enough.
Facing Klopp's suffocating high press and the iron defense led by Van Dijk, he needed a sharper weapon.
The system interface quietly unfolded on his retina.
The notoriety points accumulated from the two big wins (mostly from opponents' fear and media buzz) were currently jumping wildly.
[System: Detected that the host is about to face a major battle.]
[Would you like to enter the Notoriety Point Mall?]
Lin Yuan thought silently: "Yes."
He wanted to exchange for something.
Something that would allow him to be the last one standing in the bloody battle at Wembley, even if he bled his last drop.
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