From the moment Di María surged forward with the ball, Gao Shen's heart was in his throat.

  As soon as he saw Di María evade Vidic's attempted tackle and break through, he khere was a real ce.

  When Di María reached the edge of the penalty area, fag Evans one-on-one, Gao Shen almost shouted out two words: Take him on!

  Di María was incredibly fast with superb foiven space to run, he could be a lethal threat.

  Of course, his dribbling wasn't on Messi's level, but bined with his speed, it was still spectacur. He often pulled off moments of brillian the pitch.

  This time, as he charged straight at Evans without slowing down, he forced the Maer United defeo backpedal repeatedly. Just as he reached the penalty area, Di María suddenly stopped, pnting his left foot on the ball and rolling it behind him. Evans, who had just shifted his weight, instinctively stopped as well.

  Then, as if preparing to cut inside, Di María feinted again, luring Evans into adjusting his stance.

  But just when Evans thought he had anticipated the move, Di María revealed it was all a bluff. His right foot didn't even touch the ball, he performed a step-over, then used his left foot to push the ball toward the byline before accelerating explosively.

  In that instant, Evans was pletely deceived, lost his bance, and tumbled into the penalty area.

  Now deep in the left side of the box, Di María was trapped at a tight angle. Van der Sar had closed off most of his options, there was barely any room to shoot.

  Then, in another sudden move, Di María faked a shot, trig Van der Sar into itting early. Instead of firing at goal, he smoothly sent a cross into the middle of the box.

  The ball skimmed across the penalty area, rolling perfectly toward the right side.

  Sánchez, who had been lurking on the edge of the box, timed his run perfectly. Sprinting in from the right, he met Di María's pass first-time with his right foot, sending the ball straight into Maer United's .

  Van der Sar, stra the near post, had no ce.

  "GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"

  "Napoli have equalized!"

  "An outstanding assist from Di María, and Sánchez fi off with posure!"

  "It's 1-1!"

  At that moment, Gao Shen jumped up.

  They had leveled the score!

  A 1-1 draw wasn't the best result. Napoli had ceded a crucial away goal, but at least they had pulled even.

  Still, Gao Shen rushed to the toue, shouting encement at Di María and Sánchez, celebrating their brilliant link-up.

  The Napoli fans iaed, their cheers shaking the stadium.

  After all, an equalizer was something to celebrate.

  Oapoli's pyers gathered he sidelines, fists pumping in the air as they celebrated wildly. They turo the stands, motioning for the fans to cheer even louder.

  The supporters responded with a deafening roar, urging the team forward, one goal wasn't enough.

  A 1-1 draw wouldn't be a good result heading into the sed leg at Old Trafford.

  Ferguson seemed to realize the danger as well. He immediately ordered his team to drop back.

  In the closing minutes, Napoli pushed fgressively but couldn't carve out another clear-cut ce.

  Maer United unched a quick terattace agaiov pyed a through ball. This time, however, it wasn't Ronaldo on the receiving end, but Rooney.

  The English striker charged into the penalty area, but Lichtsteiner read the situation well, getting a crucial toe on the ball to poke it away to Bonucci.

  And that was it—the final whistle blew. The matded in a 1-1 draw.

  ---

  The moment the whistle souhe first thing Gao Shen did was reach for his water bottle.

  His throat was dry, and his voice was hoarse from all the shouting.

  The match had been incredibly intehe pressure was suffog.

  Looking baapoli had pyed well, they hadn't made any gring mistakes. The goal they ceded had been the result of brilliant interpy from Maer United's attackers.

  But Gao Shen had to admit: he and his coag staff hadn't anticipated Berbatov linking up with Ronaldo so effectively.

  They had tried that bination sixteen times before without success. But on the seveh attempt, it finally worked.

  Talk about frustrating.

  "Do you think Ferguson phat?" Gao Shen mused aloud.

  "No way," Zidane said, shaking his head. "At most, he hoped they'd get it right and created the right enviro for it. But to say he k would succeed? That's unrealistic. It's a mix of skill and luck."

  Berbatov had the teique to pull off the pass under pressure. Ronaldo had the speed to beat Vargas.

  But let's be ho, sixteen failed attempts before one success? That was just as much luck as it was skill.

  "Zinedine's right," Carlo agreed. "You're overthinking it. Ferguson's not some all-knowing genius. He's just experienced. If you py against him more, beat him a few times, that 'legendary aura' will disappear on its own."

  Carlo had noticed it before the match, Gao Shen respected Ferguson too much. Almost to the point of overestimating him.

  There was no doubt Ferguson was a great manager. But even the greatest managers lose. Even the best make mistakes.

  At the end of the day, Ferguson was just a man. He wasn't infallible.

  Gao She out a bitter chuckle and nodded.

  Carlo and Zidane had both given him advice before the match. They knew he was under immense psychological pressure not just because of the semifinal itself, but because of Ferguson.

  What they didn't fully uand, though, was that fao Shen, this pressure wasn't just about fag an idol.

  The first book he had read after arriving in this timeline was Ferguson's biography.

  His man-ma, tactics, in-game adjustments almost everything Gao Shen knew had Ferguson's fingerprints on it.

  Of course, he had studied many legendary coaches, but Ferguson had left the deepest impression.

  So while he had always talked about wanting to face Ferguson, actually standing on the opposite toue was a different story.

  ---

  "Well done, young man."

  After the match, Gao Shen made his way to the visitors' dugout, shaking hands with Ferguson and the Maer United coag staff.

  This was standard etiquette for any home manager.

  Fergusarded him with genuine appreciation.

  "To be ho, sir, I was a bit nervous," Gao Shen admitted with a wry smile.

  Ferguson raised an eyebrow, the out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

  How should he put it?

  "Do you know how old I am?" Ferguson suddenly asked.

  "Sixty-seven, of course," Gao Shen answered instantly. "Born December 31st."

  Ferguson was a little surprised, the out a hearty ugh. "You've got a good memory."

  "I grew up watg your teams py. I'm a die-hard fan," Gao Shen said sincerely.

  Ferguson studied him with an amused smile. The more he looked, the more he found the young man in front of him remarkable.

  He was only twe years old.

  Looking at Gao Shen, Ferguson was reminded of his younger self.

  Back then, he was still a pyer, nearing the end of his career. He had taken on a pyer-coach role at Falkirk in Sd's sed division, his first taste of coag.

  At the time, he never imagined he would bee a great manager. For him, coag was just another job.

  Even wheook over at Aberdeen in 1978, he hadn't thought of it as the beginning of a lifelong career.

  But Gao Shen was different. At twe, he had already won a Champions League title. He had taken a newly promoted team to back-to-back league championships. This season, he was on the verge of seg the first treble in Italian football history and potentially adding a sed Champions League trophy to his resume.

  For achievements like these, Ferguson could only sigh. It's good to be young.

  As these thoughts crossed his mind, Ferguson shook his head and chuckled.

  "I always felt like you were just fttering me," he said. "I've been managing for decades and only won two Champions League titles. You won one in your very first season and now you're in the semifinals again."

  "Of course, you won't win it this year," he added with a smirk, "but reag the semifinals is already impressive. And since you lost to me and Maer United, well... you know what? Hearing you say you're my fan actually puts a lot of pressure on me."

  "You get what I mean?" Ferguson asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Gao Shen grinned and nodded. "Are you really feeling the pressure?"

  "Of course!" Ferguson scoffed. "Go ask that damn Puese fellow after he lost to you, he didn't sleep well for days!"

  He paused for a sed before adding, almost sheepishly, "He told me not to say anything, so don't go telling him I let it slip."

  Gao Shen couldn't help but ugh. The old man had just casually exposed Mourinho's past frustrations.

  "Truth be told," Ferguson tinued, "all that talk about being happy to see young managers succeed? It's nonsense. Every manager wants to win. Nobody likes losing. I'm sixty-seven years old, how could I stand losing to a twe-year-old like you?"

  Gao Shen uood that se well, but he still couldn't help but smile.

  "Holy," Ferguso on, his expression turning serious, "you were a bit restraionight. Napoli didn't py to their full potential. If you go to Old Trafford with the same mi and the same performance as tonight, you'll definitely lose."

  His voice carried the certainty of a man who had seen it all.

  Gao Shen knew he was right. But pressure wasn't something that could just be turned off like a switch.

  "I'll do my best to overe it," he said.

  Ferguson smiled. He reached out, hesitated for a moment, then gave Gao Shen a pat on the shoulder.

  Even such a small gesture carried weight.

  Because Gao Shen was no longer just a promising young coach. He was now one of the top managers in Europe.

  Of course, Gao Shen didn't mind the gesture of familiarity.

  "Are you really my fan?" Ferguson suddenly asked.

  Gao Shen g him, and for a split sed, an absurd thought crossed his mind.

  Ferguson's expressiht now, it was the exact same one he had when talking about Guardio.

  Sure enough, this old man was as ing as ever!

  "Let me test just how much of a fan you really are," Ferguson said with a smile.

  Gao Shen sidered it for a moment before nodding. "Go ahead."

  Ferguson thought for a moment, then asked, "What's the name of the bar downstairs on Paisley Avenue West?"

  ***

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