Chapter 92: The Avengers
North London, London Colney Training Centre.
Although the May sun had begun to warm the turf, the atmosphere at Arsenal's training ground was colder than a Siberian winter.
On the massive tactical wall in the locker room, where complex movement diagrams and data analysis sheets usually hung, there was now only a single large photograph.
It was a photo of Lin Yuan lifting the League Cup at Wembley, his face blood-stained and his eyes fierce. Next to the photo, several striking words were written in red marker:
REVENGE.
HUMILIATION.
SILENCE.
Arteta had specifically ordered these to be put up. The young Spanish manager knew well that for this group of proud young Gunners, nothing could spark their fighting spirit more than humiliation.
"Everyone, look at this face."
Arteta stood before the tactical wall, holding a pointer, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force of his grip.
"Three times."
He held up three fingers, his voice low and suppressed. "This season, we have lost to Chelsea three times. We lost the League Cup final; we lost at home in the League; we even had to watch them lift the trophy in the Community Shield."
The locker room was deathly silent. Saka lowered his head, Ødegaard bit his lip, and Rice stared intently at Lin Yuan's photo, his gaze looking as if it could burn right through the paper.
"Every single time, that guy named Lin Yuan stood in our home stadium, in front of tens of thousands of our fans, and made that damn'shush' gesture."
Arteta's voice suddenly rose, filled with anger. "He turned the Emirates Stadium into his back garden! He treated us as stepping stones to show off his achievements to the media! He said in an interview that we were the 'appetizer' and that he didn't want our fingerprints on the Champions League trophy!"
"Tell me, can you endure this?"
"No!"
Rice stood up abruptly, a roar erupting from his chest. "I'm going to kill him! In Istanbul, I'll make him kneel and swallow those words!"
Arteta nodded with satisfaction. He turned around and drew a red circle on a new tactical board.
At the center of that circle was Lin Yuan.
"To beat Chelsea, there is only one way."
Arteta drew three arrows around the circle, pointing respectively to Rice, Thomas, and Ødegaard.
"The Cage."
"Lin is strong; his body is like a tank, and his through balls are like scalpels. But he is also human; he gets tired, and he makes mistakes."
"We are going to build a cage for him." Arteta's eyes turned ruthless. "From the first second of the match, whenever he has the ball, there must be three people forming a perimeter. Cut off his connection with Enzo, cut off his connection with the forwards. Isolate him in that cage."
"You don't need to win the ball; you just need to stifle him. Use your bodies, use fouls, use every means possible to make him uncomfortable and frustrated."
"When a beast is trapped in a cage for too long, it loses its reason. That will be the moment we hunt him down."
...Meanwhile, in West London, at the Cobham Training Centre.
The atmosphere at Chelsea was completely different.
The joy of the double was over, replaced by a deeper state of preparation.
In the treatment room, Lin Yuan was lying shirtless on a massage table. Anna was using a special essential oil to massage his stiff back muscles.
The side effects of the [body reset agent] had arrived as expected. For the past few days, Lin Yuan felt as if his body was rusting; every muscle was aching, and his joints were throbbing slightly.
"Your physical functions are only at 70% of their usual level." Anna frowned as she massaged. "Going into a Champions League final in this state? Are you going there to die?"
"70% is enough." Lin Yuan closed his eyes, his voice sounding somewhat lazy. "Against those kids from Arsenal, half my strength is plenty."
"Don't be too arrogant."
Mourinho pushed the door open and walked in, holding a thick scouting report.
"Arteta isn't a fool. They must be studying how to deal with you." Mourinho threw the report onto a nearby chair. "My informants tell me they are practicing a double-teaming tactic specifically for you. They want to trap you in the midfield."
"A cage?" Lin Yuan opened his eyes, a playful curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"Pretty much." Mourinho nodded. "Rice has been like a mad dog in training lately; his tackling is terrifyingly aggressive. Clearly, he's going for your ankles."
Lin Yuan sat up and stretched his neck.
"Boss, do you know how to break a cage?"
Mourinho raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"Then you just burst The Cage open."
Lin Yuan stood up, walked to the window, and watched his teammates performing rondo drills outside.
"They think I'm the trapped beast? No."
A sharp light flashed in Lin Yuan's eyes. "I'm the prison guard holding the keys."
He turned around and looked at Mourinho. "Boss, in previous games, I've been playing by subtraction. I reduced my running, reduced my dribbling, and relied more on passing and positioning. That was to save energy."
"But in Istanbul, in that final..."
Lin Yuan clenched his fist, feeling the power within him that, although tired, was still surging.
"I'm going to play by addition."
"Not just defense, not just passing."
"I'm going to show them what all-around dominance looks like."
Mourinho looked at Lin Yuan and suddenly understood something.
"You mean..."
Late that night.
Lin Yuan returned to his apartment alone.
He turned off all the lights and immersed himself in darkness.
Within his consciousness, the pale blue system interface emerged once again.
After a whole season of campaigning, especially with the recent boost from the double, his notoriety points (now mostly converted into prestige value) had accumulated to a terrifying number:
[Current Available Points: 85,000.]
This was an astronomical figure. It was enough for him to exchange for any S-rank skill or even some legendary items.
Lin Yuan's gaze skipped over those flashy offensive skills and those passives that simply increased physical attributes.
His vision settled on the very top of the skill tree.
There was a golden icon there that had always been greyed out and locked.
It was the ultimate secret technique belonging to a midfield maestro.
[Gods Perspective (S-Rank · Complete Form)]
[Exchange Price: 80,000 points.]
[Skill Description: This is not just an expansion of vision. This is the foreknowledge of time. Once activated, the host will construct a real-time 3D model of all 22 people on the field in their mind and can predict the movement trajectories and ball landing points of all players within the next 2 seconds. You will no longer be watching the ball with your eyes, but overlooking the entire field with your soul.]
"The next 2 seconds..."
Lin Yuan murmured to himself.
In the rapidly changing arena of top-tier football, what did 2 seconds mean?
It meant you could think before your opponent, start before your opponent, and release the ball before your opponent.
It meant that the so-called 'Cage' tactic would be full of flaws in your eyes, like a slow-motion replay.
"Arsenal wants to use numbers to trap me?"
Lin Yuan gave a cold laugh.
"Then let them see what happens when mortals try to hunt a god."
"Exchange."
Lin Yuan gave the command without hesitation.
[Ding!]
[Consuming 80,000 prestige value.]
[Unlocking... God-level Skill: Gods Perspective (Complete Form).]
[Neuronal link restructuring... Visual center strengthening...]
Boom!
A massive stream of information instantly rushed into Lin Yuan's brain. There was no sharp pain like during previous upgrades; instead, it was replaced by an unprecedented clarity.
With his eyes closed, he felt as if he could see every detail of the entire room. The trajectory of floating dust, the sway of leaves outside the window, even the sound of Anna's breathing in the next room.
Everything was under his control.
This was the thrill of total control.
Lin Yuan opened his eyes.
The dark room was no longer dark in his eyes, but a three-dimensional world composed of countless lines and data.
"So that's how it is..."
Lin Yuan reached out and grasped at the air.
"Rice, Ødegaard, and Arteta."
"Are you ready?"
"This time, I'm going to burn your brains, along with your defensive line, into ashes."
The storm of Istanbul had already taken shape.
And the man standing in the eye of the storm had already opened his omniscient eyes.
----------
Check Out P atreon For More Chapters:
P atreon.com/AnonymousWriter6