Chapter 80: Chapter 80: Ferguson: "We Must Bring Him Back to Manchester United"

The 80,000-strong stadium fell into dead silence.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on the flying football in the air, their breaths quickening.

Standing at the goal, Hesel, with a height of 186 cm and an impressive 2-meter wingspan, moved swiftly, his body stretching out fully in an attempt to save the shot.

His hand was mere inches from the ball...

But in the next second, a sharp "whoosh" rang in his ears!

Ye Chen's shot was an inward-curving strike, with a distinct spin that bent the trajectory of the ball.

Despite Hesel's wide coverage and timely movement, this ball was a world-class stunner!

It wasn't just Hesel—Ye Chen believed even Neuer wouldn't have stood a chance!

The moment the ball hit the net, the crowd erupted like never before.

"Gooooooooooooal!"

The commentator's voice rang out, hoarse with excitement.

"An unbelievable world-class goal!"

"Ye! It's Ye again!"

"He's scored in five consecutive matches! When the team was struggling to break through, it was him! He stood up once again!"

"Shout it out loud! Tell me—WHO SCORED THAT GOAL?!"

"Chen! Ye!"

"Chen! Ye!"

"Chen! Ye!"

The fans chanted in unison.

"Say it again!"

"Chen Ye!"

"Chen Ye!"

"Chen Ye!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Hala Hala Ye Chen Ye Chen!"

"The pride of China, Ye Chen!"

Under the guidance of the commentator, the entire crowd of 80,000 spectators sang the "Ye Chen Anthem," shaking the very rafters of Westfalenstadion.

In the stands, Löw stood and clapped for Ye Chen, a thought flashing through his mind: If only he were one of our players... he'd be Germany's Little Flying Dutchman.

Even Ferguson, known for his composure, couldn't hide his emotions. His trembling left hand and labored breathing betrayed his inner turmoil.

"Alex, that goal was extraordinary!"

"I know," Ferguson replied through gritted teeth, his tone heavy.

"I owe him an apology for my earlier doubts. He's a true killer on the pitch."

Ferguson stared at Ye Chen celebrating on the field, his voice resolute:

"We have to bring him back to Manchester United. Remember, we must!"

Truth be told, if David Gill weren't his longtime partner, Ferguson might've given him a good punch by now.

On the pitch, Ye Chen sprinted toward the South Stand, grabbed his team crest, and planted a fierce kiss on it.

"Ye, stay with us!"

"Ye, we love you!"

"Ye, don't leave us!"

Fans near Ye Chen screamed themselves hoarse; some female fans even wept. Though Ye Chen hadn't been with Dortmund for long, the bond was remarkably deep.

Perhaps they had long been captivated by his series of incredible goals.

Among the crowd, Lina's face was already streaked with tears.

"Chen, you're my Superman!"

In the Tencent Sports live broadcast, host Jan Jun had just been lamenting Dresden's heavy defensive strategy.

"Ye Chen has the ball again! This time, he's not stopping—he's charging straight at Solega! Is he going to dribble past Solega?"

"No! He's cutting inside!"

"Uh-oh! Here comes Schulz! Schulz with a ferocious sliding tackle!"

"Dodged! Ye Chen dodged it! My God, is this the speed a Chinese player can achieve? It's unbelievable!"

"Wait, now Koch is closing in, and so is Bregle!"

"Four defenders against Ye Chen? Isn't that overkill?"

"Koch goes for the slide!"

"Hold on—Ye Chen pulled the ball back at the last second, just dodging Koch's tackle!"

"Such lightning-fast reflexes!"

"Bang!"

With a muffled sound from the TV, Jan Jun shouted in excitement: "He's taken the shot!"

The broadcast froze for two seconds...

"It's in! It's in! It's in!" Jan Jun's voice roared.

"What a world-class strike! Ye Chen just blasted a hole through Dresden's defense with that shot!"

"The score is now 1-0! At this moment, Ye Chen is like the legendary Xiao Li Flying Dagger—when he strikes, it's a guaranteed goal!"

"Ye Chen did it!"

Beside him, Zhang Lu was practically giddy, laughing like a child:

"Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!"

"From the dribble to the shot, it was seamless! Not a single wasted movement!"

"I can confidently say he's the greatest striker China has ever produced!"

"Don't compare him to other domestic players. He's in a league of his own!"

It was rare for Zhang Lu to say so much in one go, a testament to just how thrilled he was. For him, this moment had been a long time coming—so long that he couldn't even remember the last time a Chinese player executed such a brilliant inside-cut shot.

Jan Jun's voice swelled with emotion:

"A new generation of talent emerges! Ye Chen is that talent! Watching him play is worth every sleepless night!"

And with that, Jan Jun slyly slipped in an ad:

"Of course, during such thrilling moments, international safety brand Jieshi reminds you: Stay safe, don't panic, and extend the fun with Jieshi's enduring products!"

Ecstatic Chinese fans flooded the live chat.

"66666!"

"Speaking of endurance, Chinese football has been holding out for 90 minutes without scoring!"

"Can we not bring up depressing things when we're celebrating?"

"Apologize! The national team isn't 'something'!"

"Did someone say we're insulting people? Are you sure we're talking about 'people' here?"

"I'm so scared I pulled out my sea cucumber..."

"..."

The goal lifted everyone's spirits. Most importantly, it came just 20 minutes into the game, which meant a smoother ride for Dortmund from here.

But Ye Chen's face remained serious after the celebration.

He had used up his "Guaranteed Goal" card. What about the next two goals?

That last strike had been instinctive. Ye Chen had utilized everything in his arsenal—Robben's signature cut-in and a reverse-foot curler.

Truthfully, he had just been trying to find his rhythm, but the first shot went in!

Now came the tricky part...

As the game restarted, Ye Chen once again pressed high up the pitch to lead the charge.

Dortmund's players also committed to an intense high press, accelerating the game's tempo.

On the sidelines, Ralph Ruse was shouting:

"What are you doing? Get tighter!"

Solega and Schulz snapped back into action, resuming their double-marking.

They had been momentarily demoralized by the goal but quickly recovered under their coach's orders.

Before the game, they had been briefed: conceding one goal to Ye Chen was inevitable given his skill. But under no circumstances could they allow a second. Because if he scored two, could the third be far behind?

Their mission wasn't to win—it was to stop Ye Chen from breaking records!

No one wanted to be the backdrop for a world record.

After all, just look at Masashi Nakayama's Guinness World Record for consecutive hat-tricks in 1998. Every detail of his games—his opponents, the matches, and the goals—is etched in history.

If Ye Chen broke this record, it would forever be remembered as the day he scored a hat-trick against Dresden in his fifth consecutive game.

Who could endure that?