"Oh, bloody hell. My God!"
By the time Walsh reacted, the Millwall supporter had already swung the baseball bat.
The man's face was painted in the club's colours, and the weapon crashed into the back of Ethan's head and across his back while Ethan threw himself over Mrs Jackson and her child.
The Red Rebels supporters nearby froze in horror.
Then almost everyone in the section surged to their feet.
Ethan felt a burst of pain in the back of his head and across his shoulders, but there was no time to think about it.
He turned and saw the hooligan raising the bat for another swing.
Instinctively, Ethan lifted his left arm to block it.
The impact was brutal.
For an instant, his entire left hand went numb, as though it no longer belonged to him.
A moment later, Walsh and Mark came crashing through the crowd.
Together, they shoved the swaggering hooligan away from Ethan and sent him stumbling down from the front of the stand.
The stewards farther away finally reacted.
Several rushed over and restrained the man before he could escape.
"Let him go, you bastards!"
"Let him go!"
Millwall supporters began rising throughout the surrounding sections.
Some roared through the fencing.
Others jumped from their seats and started forcing their way towards the confrontation.
The stewards immediately became nervous.
"Ethan, are you all right?"
Walsh crouched beside him and frantically patted his face.
Mrs Jackson had been completely terrified.
Then she looked down and saw blood covering her child.
For one horrifying second, she thought Peter had been injured.
Only then did she realise it was Ethan's blood.
Ethan shook his head hard and clenched his teeth, trying to show that he was conscious.
His thoughts were still blurred, and the whole world seemed to sway around him.
Then he noticed another group of painted Millwall supporters rushing towards the away section.
The baseball bat lay only a short distance away.
Ethan reached for it, pushed Walsh aside, and climbed over the barrier at the front of the stand.
Blood was still running down the back of his head.
Both of his hands were smeared red, making him look far more intimidating than he probably realised.
"You... what do you want?"
Ethan gripped the baseball bat in one hand and the wire fencing in the other, planting himself between the approaching hooligans and the Red Rebels supporters.
"You bastards want a fight?"
...
The players on the pitch had not yet realised what was happening.
New Manchester United were still attacking Millwall relentlessly, and nobody had paid much attention to the disturbance in the stands.
Then the shouting grew louder.
Curtis glanced towards the away section.
His expression changed instantly.
Ethan was covered in blood, clutching a baseball bat and facing a group of hooligans.
"Bloody hell, Boss!"
Curtis shouted and sprinted straight off the pitch.
The referee stared after him in disbelief.
The other players were confused for only a moment.
Then they saw what Curtis had seen.
Every New Manchester United player started running towards the fencing.
"Touch my boss and I'll kill you!"
Curtis was beside himself.
Seeing Ethan covered in blood terrified him.
Walsh and Mark stood beside Ethan, while a crowd of Red Rebels supporters gathered behind them.
"Boss! Boss!"
Curtis shouted again.
Ethan did not respond.
Curtis's eyes immediately filled with tears.
"You bastards! I'll kill every one of you!"
He grabbed the wire fencing and tried desperately to force his way through.
When he realised he could not reach the hooligans, he turned around.
The Millwall players were approaching, with Tim Cahill near the front.
Cahill had barely understood what was happening when Curtis charged into him like a wild animal and knocked him to the ground.
Then Curtis began throwing punches.
All the anger from seeing Ethan attacked, combined with the frustration of Millwall's repeated fouls throughout the match, exploded at once.
The Millwall players were hardly known for backing away from confrontation.
The moment Curtis attacked Cahill, several of them rushed forward.
Terry and the others had already arrived.
Within seconds, the pitch descended into a full-scale brawl.
Ethan occupied an extraordinary place in the players' hearts.
In some ways, his influence over them was even greater than Mourinho's.
Seeing him attacked left them furious.
There was no possibility that Terry and the others would stand aside while Curtis fought alone.
The supporters saw the players fighting and reacted just as quickly.
Fans from both clubs surged towards one another.
Because the aisles were narrow, Millwall's numerical advantage could not be fully used.
Even so, the stands descended into chaos.
The stewards, who had been expected to maintain order, were rapidly overwhelmed and reduced to watching the situation spiral out of control.
"Aren't you going to stop your players, Mr Mourinho?"
Millwall's manager ran towards Mourinho after noticing that his own players were getting the worst of the fight.
Mourinho's face was dark with anger.
He turned slowly.
"Do you want a punch as well?"
The Millwall manager immediately stopped.
One look at Mourinho's expression was enough to make him retreat several steps.
He opened his mouth, stammered, and decided against saying anything else.
By then, even the New Manchester United substitutes had rushed from the bench.
The entire area around the pitch had become a battlefield.
Physically, the Red Rebels held a considerable advantage.
Drogba, Essien, and the Touré brothers were particularly formidable.
Once they joined the fight, several Millwall players quickly found themselves retreating while protecting their heads.
The home side had probably never imagined that New Manchester United's players, so accomplished with a football at their feet, could be equally fearsome in a brawl.
For a team accustomed to intimidating opponents, Millwall had suddenly encountered resistance they were not prepared for.
Millwall's hooligan problem had existed for years.
Because of the club's history of crowd trouble, the local police regularly stationed significant numbers of officers nearby during home fixtures.
The moment reports of the disturbance came through, they moved into the stadium.
A police helicopter was also dispatched and landed on the pitch.
The officers had dealt with football violence before.
What they usually encountered, however, happened in the stands.
Nobody had expected the players themselves to become involved, never mind members of the coaching staffs.
Worse still, the entire incident was being broadcast live.
Television viewers watched in disbelief as a match descended into a mass brawl sparked by hooligan violence.
Then the cameras showed Ethan, covered in blood, being carried towards the helicopter by police officers and medical staff before being flown for emergency treatment.
The match could obviously no longer continue.
It was abandoned.
Supporters from both clubs were arrested.
Several players were also taken away for questioning.
Curtis was among them.
Inspector Mitchell was responsible for policing the area around The Den.
He received instructions to detain everyone identified as having taken part in the violence.
He had dealt with disturbances at Millwall matches before and was hardly shocked by football disorder.
Usually, however, it was the visiting supporters who left looking considerably worse.
This time was different.
Mitchell watched as several Millwall players were carried away for treatment.
The New Manchester United players, by contrast, were all walking under their own power.
"Looks like they finally picked the wrong fight," Mitchell remarked with a slightly satisfied laugh.
He had very little sympathy for Millwall's reputation for violence, either on or off the pitch.
One of his assistants hurried over.
"No bail for any of the Millwall supporters or players involved this time.
"The superintendent wants to review the entire case personally."
Mitchell frowned.
"What happened?"
His assistant gave a grim smile.
"They attacked the wrong man.
"Do you know who was taken away in that helicopter?"
"Some badly injured supporter, wasn't it?"
Mitchell had not paid much attention.
"Ethan Yu.
"He has close connections with senior figures in government, enormous influence throughout Britain, and he's one of the most prominent businessmen in the world.
"He was seriously injured and taken away after losing a great deal of blood.
"These idiots are in serious trouble."
Mitchell's expression changed immediately.
Of course he knew who Ethan was.
He simply had not realised that the blood-covered man taken away by helicopter had been him.
Now that he understood, he knew the consequences of the incident would extend far beyond one abandoned football match.
...
Ethan had never actually lost consciousness.
He had simply lost a considerable amount of blood and remained badly dazed.
His left arm had also suffered a fracture.
After emergency treatment and several scans, however, doctors confirmed that he had escaped any life-threatening injury.
Most of the damage was superficial.
That alone came as an enormous relief.
"Andy, how are the Jacksons?"
Ethan's memories of everything that happened after the first blow were still unclear.
"They're fine.
"They're outside now and keep asking to thank you for protecting Mrs Jackson and the boy.
"They want to see you."
Ethan shook his head carefully.
"No.
"Tell them to go home."
He had never been comfortable with emotional scenes of gratitude.
Then another thought struck him.
"What happened to the match?"
"It was abandoned.
"We're waiting for the FA's decision.
"Our players and Millwall's got into a fight, and quite a few supporters were arrested as well.
"Don't worry.
"Mark has already gone to deal with the paperwork and try to get the players released."
Ethan nodded.
"Make sure we help the Red Rebels supporters who were arrested as well.
"They got involved because of us.
"We have to take responsibility for them."
Walsh nodded immediately.
At that moment, the hospital-room door opened.
Mourinho walked inside looking concerned.
Ethan stared at him in surprise.
His suit was dishevelled, and there were spots of blood across the shirt underneath.
Mourinho glanced down at himself and laughed.
"That Millwall manager kept talking in my ear.
"I eventually got tired of listening and punched him.
"I didn't realise the fat bastard would bleed so much.
"Look at my shirt.
"I'll have to throw it away now."
Everyone in the room burst out laughing.
Even Ethan could not help himself.
"Andy," he said after the laughter died down, "if anyone calls, especially journalists, tell them I'm seriously injured and unconscious.
"Then arrange a helicopter and transfer me directly to the Royal Hospital in Manchester.
"I'll be more comfortable there."
The incident had become far too serious to disappear quietly.
There would inevitably be investigations, disciplinary hearings, and attempts to assign blame.
Ethan intended to make one thing clear from the beginning.
New Manchester United had been the victims.
If both clubs were eventually punished, he wanted the Red Rebels to receive the lightest possible sanction.
(To be continued.)