The clock had just ticked past the 87th minute.
The rain at Old Trafford showed no signs of letting up; instead, it felt as if someone was pouring a basin of ice water over the stadium's heights, extinguishing everyone's body heat.
The 0-0 on the scoreboard looked precarious at this moment.
Manchester United manager Ten Hag stood on the sidelines, waving his hand to signal the whole team to push forward. He could see that Chelsea had reached their limit. In the last few minutes, Chelsea's defensive line had been like a fence scattered by a strong wind, nearly exploited several times by Hojlund and Garnacho.
"Attack! Get the ball into the box! They can't run anymore!" Ten Hag's roar was clearly audible in the rain.
In the stands, over seventy thousand Red Devils fans also sensed the aura of a last-minute winner. The wave of support that seemed capable of swallowing everything rose again, and the song "Glory Glory Man United" was deafening.
Manchester United midfielder Casemiro received the ball near the center circle.
This Brazilian midfield anchor, a five-time Champions League winner, was highly experienced. He scanned ahead with his peripheral vision. Chelsea's midfield defense had developed a gap—Enzo was thirty meters away, bent over and panting, while Caicedo, though still running, had steps as heavy as if he were wading through a swamp.
"An opportunity."
Casemiro thought to himself. He adjusted his stride, preparing to drive forward with the ball and then deliver a lethal long pass over the top.
However, the moment he touched the ball, a hair-raising sense of crisis suddenly surged up his spine.
It was the instinctive warning of an apex predator approaching.
Casemiro subconsciously tried to shield the ball, but a bolt of deep blue lightning had already torn through the curtain of rain.
Thud!
There were no fancy tackling techniques, just pure overwhelming speed and power.
Lin Yuan was like an out-of-control heavy tank, completely ignoring the slippery ground as he slammed hard into Casemiro from the side. Neither of them held back in this collision.
Young physique and seasoned experience clashed directly at this moment.
The result was—
Casemiro stumbled back two steps, his foot slipped, and he sat directly down in the mud!
Possession changed hands!
"My God! Lin Yuan dispossessed 'Fat Tiger' (Casemiro) in the center circle! Is his stamina bar infinite?!" Gary Neville exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief.
After winning the ball, Lin Yuan didn't pause for even 0.1 seconds.
Before him now was Manchester United's empty backfield.
"Run!!"
Chelsea forward Jackson used the last of his strength to start a sprint, raising his hand to call for the ball. Mudryk on the left was also using his speed to cut inside, creating a massive gap.
If it were Enzo, he would definitely pass.
If it were Bruno Fernandes, he would most likely pass.
But the one with the ball now was Lin Yuan. It was the tyrant who had been sprinting in the rain for nearly 90 minutes yet still felt a fire burning within him.
He didn't even glance at Jackson, nor did he heed Mudryk's shouts.
[System Notification: 8% Stamina remaining, Adrenaline Burst in progress.]
[Skill Triggered: Sword-Bearing Guard (Though Cristiano Ronaldo is not present, the desire to drive forward is activated).]
Lin Yuan charged forward with the ball in giant strides. With every touch, the ball zipped forward five or six meters like an obedient bullet.
"He didn't pass! He's going for it himself!"
Manchester United defender Maguire panicked. The English center-back retreated while facing the player, his massive frame appearing somewhat clumsy at this moment. He didn't dare to lunge in recklessly, knowing that once bypassed, there would be a clear path behind him.
"Come on!" Lin Yuan roared internally.
35 meters from the goal.
Maguire retreated to the edge of the penalty arc and had to stop to prepare for a block.
At that exact moment.
Lin Yuan suddenly changed his rhythm. In the middle of his high-speed sprint, he made an extremely subtle change of direction, creating half a body's width of space away from Maguire's defensive angle.
Then, the scene that struck fear into every Premier League defender appeared.
Lin Yuan didn't slow down at all. Using the momentum of his run, his right thigh muscles tightened instantly—the explosive power of a thousand refinements. He swung his right leg and struck the lower-middle part of the ball fiercely with his laces.
This shot was a gamble involving all his notoriety, all his arrogance, and the final dignity of this team.
[Skill Triggered: Heavy Cannoneer (Elementary) -> Critical Hit Bonus!]
Boom!!!
This dull thud even drowned out the overwhelming boos at Old Trafford.
The ball was like a cruise missile leaving the barrel, carrying terrifying kinetic energy. Without a hint of spin, it rocketed straight toward the top-right corner of the goal.
The ball speed was too fast.
So fast that it tore a vacuum channel through the rain.
Manchester United goalkeeper Onana didn't even have time to complete a full save attempt. His fingers had just extended when he felt a gust of wind whip past his fingertips.
Swish!
The net let out a painful tearing sound as it was lifted high, as if the goal itself was about to be uprooted.
0-1!
A last-minute winner!
In the 88th minute, Chelsea captain Lin Yuan pierced the heart of the Red Devils with an unstoppable world-class strike from over 30 meters out!
At this moment, a suffocating silence fell over Old Trafford.
The curses and boos of over seventy thousand Manchester United fans stopped abruptly, as if the power had been cut. Only the pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof remained.
In the corner at the other end of the stadium, three thousand die-hard Chelsea fans who had made the trip erupted with a roar that seemed capable of blowing the roof off.
"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
After scoring, Lin Yuan didn't sprint or knee-slide.
Due to momentum, he lunged forward two more steps before braking. He stood on the edge of the penalty area, his back to the collapsed Manchester United defense, facing the deathly silent Stretford End (the die-hard fans' stand).
He slowly spread his arms, like a divine statue surveying its territory in the pouring rain.
He tilted his chin up, his cold eyes scanning the stunned faces in the stands, and then made an extremely arrogant gesture—
He placed his right index finger over his lips.
"Shh."
Make it quiet here.
Completely quiet.
"Madman! He's a madman!"
Mourinho rushed out of the technical area like a madman on the sidelines. He performed an inelegant but passionate knee-slide on the slippery grass, his suit trousers instantly covered in mud at the knees.
Behind him on the bench, everyone rushed out.
The Chelsea players, who were originally exhausted, seemed to have been given a shot of adrenaline as they swarmed Lin Yuan. Enzo jumped directly onto Lin Yuan's back, Disasi hugged his thigh, and this group of soaked, mud-covered young men piled on top of each other in a human pyramid.
"You're a fucking god! Lin! You're a god!" Gallagher roared until his voice cracked.
Lin Yuan was pressed at the bottom of the pile. He looked at the night sky filled with rain and the glow of floodlights, taking deep breaths of the cold air. His lungs burned, but that sense of conquest was more addictive than any drug... The remaining minutes became garbage time.
Although there were only a few minutes of stoppage time, the backbone of Manchester United had been broken by that heavy cannon shot.
Bruno Fernandes was still trying to shout and organize an attack, but his passes were weak and flew directly out of bounds. Onana kicked the goal kick straight into the stands.
The soul of the Red Devils was lost.
When the referee Oliver finally blew the final whistle.
The cheers from the Chelsea bench even drowned out the stadium's PA system.
Lin Yuan pushed away Antony, who wanted to exchange jerseys—this guy had been the most vocal with insults earlier.
"I don't exchange jerseys with softies," Lin Yuan dropped coldly before turning toward the away stands.
In the rain, he took off his jersey, revealing his lean, muscular physique, and threw it to a young fan in the stands holding a "Lin Yuan = Tyrant" sign.
[Ding!]
[Congratulations to the host for completing the mission: Red Devil Nemesis.]
[Goal scored and match won at Old Trafford, causing the opponent's morale to collapse (Bruno Fernandes and Antony's mental state values detected at zero).]
[Reward obtained: +2 Free Attribute Points, +5000 notoriety points.]
[Host's reputation value detected to have broken through the threshold, Title unlocked: [The New King of Stamford Bridge (Not Fully Unlocked)].]
Mixed Zone.
The atmosphere now was much more eerie than when they arrived. Manchester United's beat reporters had ashen faces, while other media members looked like they had discovered a new continent.
"Lin! That goal! Why didn't you pass to Jackson at the time?" A reporter thrust a microphone forward.
Lin Yuan stopped. He was draped in a thick down jacket and holding a bottle of sports drink.
He glanced at the reporter and said calmly, "Because I couldn't see him."
"Couldn't see him?" The reporter was stunned. "But he was right in front of you..."
"At that moment, only the goal was in my eyes." Lin Yuan pointed to his eyes. "Besides, I don't think passing the ball to someone else is safer than shooting myself."
This was extreme arrogance.
But tonight, he was the winner. The words of a winner are the truth.
The reporter wanted to ask more, but Lin Yuan waved him off. "Excuse me, I need to go back and sleep. There's another match in three days."
He bypassed the crowd, leaving only a view of his back.
On the TV screen on the backdrop nearby, the stunning long-range goal was being replayed.
The commentator's voice was still echoing: "Look at this replay... Onana didn't even react. This is the aesthetics of violence! This is Lin Yuan! In this era of sissies, he used the most vintage and brutal method to tell Old Trafford who the master is here!"
That night.
The Times Sports Front Page:
Headline: "The Tyrant Descends upon the Theatre of Dreams"
Accompanying photo: Lin Yuan's back as he makes the "shush" gesture toward the die-hard Manchester United fans in the rain, with a blurred sea of red in the distance.
On Chelsea's official website, that poster was pinned to the top.
The poster had only one line of text:
"He is the nightmare of the red, but the guardian deity of the blue."
The first hurdle of the nightmare schedule, even on hell mode, had been forcefully cleared by Lin Yuan.
But meanwhile, across the ocean in his home country, a conspiracy against him was brewing its final counterattack. Director Li looked at the news praising Lin Yuan flooding the internet and slammed his teacup onto the floor.
"Investigate! Find dirt on him! I don't believe he's clean!"
However, what Director Li didn't know was that his death knell had also begun to toll.
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