On the touchline, Klopp didn't look flustered at all. He pressed both hands downward, signaling for his players to stay calm.
Arsenal's goal had been entirely within his expectations. Since Sanchez's departure, Professor Wenger had leaned heavily into Giroud's role as a target man, combining him with Lacazette and Iwobi to form a remarkably clever attacking system.
Ramsey and Wilshere's ability to distribute the ball had also been maximized.
Just then, the previously pleasant weather suddenly turned gloomy, and rain began to fall—a classic example of England's ever-changing weather.
"Neither team will have an easy time winning if they want to reach the final."
"Arsenal have scored seven goals in their last three matches. The power of their beautiful football is on full display again!"
"And Liverpool have been winning consistently lately, performing extremely well. Both teams have what it takes to reach the final. Who gets that ticket will depend on who performs better today!"
Liverpool's players retreated back into their own half as the match resumed.
Both sides possessed the ability to deliver a decisive blow, so they played more cautiously.
Neither dared to commit fully to attack, yet both were searching for counterattack opportunities, hoping to stab the opponent in the heart with a lethal strike.
It was precisely this mentality that produced an extremely high level of football on the pitch.
The game looked controlled, yet suddenly accelerated; it appeared open, yet just as suddenly slowed down again.
Jon Champion hadn't taken a breath for the past few minutes. His voice quickened as he tried to keep up with the action, clearly explaining the situation on the field for the fans.
"Liverpool with an opportunity, carrying the ball forward, switching play from the middle to the right."
"Salah drives forward with it, but there's no opening. He plays it back to control the tempo."
"Arsenal pushing up in numbers, pressing aggressively, trying to win it back immediately!"
"They're attempting the tackle—Giroud tracks back and wins it!"
"Played out to the right, Iwobi forcing his way down the line!"
"Cutback!"
"Wilshere arriving for the shot!"
"Leo Lin makes the block!"
"The ball ricochets to the left, Mané gathers it and drives forward!"
"Firmino offering support through the middle."
"Pop."
"Pop."
"One-two! Back to Mané!"
"Bellerín is beaten, Mané drives down the line and into the box!"
"Shot from the tight angle!!!"
"Čech with the save! You can't even catch your breath!"
"In the blink of an eye, both sides have completed another full attack-to-defense transition!"
"The level of both teams is simply extraordinary, and they've fully shown it in this match."
"You can see how desperate both sides are to reach the final and fight for the trophy. They're giving everything—maybe even 120 percent!"
The first half soon came to an end, and both teams headed back to the locker rooms.
Both managers were satisfied with their teams' performances, and the fans on both sides were full of praise.
During halftime, social media was flooded with admiration for the FA Cup semifinal.
"This is the highest-quality match I've seen all season."
"Just what you'd expect from Professor Wenger's team. Elegant football, clean and sharp."
"To go toe-to-toe with Liverpool in this explosive form—Arsenal have given absolutely everything for the trophy!"
Neutral fans were marveling at the quality of the match. Supporters of both teams felt both excitement and tension, all hoping to see their side reach the final.
Inside the Liverpool locker room, Klopp continued emphasizing counterattacks and fast transitions.
"Perfect first half. You played extremely well. Not a single problem."
"Stick to our tactics. Once we attack, shift into a 4-2-4. Stretch them down both wings and create shooting chances through the middle."
"If there's space, take it. Pay attention to the far-post gaps. Arsenal often leave openings there when defending counterattacks."
Soon, the second half began.
Neither side backed down. It remained a clash of rapid counterattacks and sharp passing combinations.
Jon Champion could only wish he had another mouth.
In the ESPN commentary booth, even the legendary analysts had no time for banter. Everyone's attention was completely fixed on the pitch.
Every pair of eyes was locked on the field. Each pass and every transition in possession tugged at everyone's nerves.
"Chance on the right—Salah!"
"Salah carrying it forward on his own!"
"There's space on the left!"
"It's still Salah, holding the ball out wide."
"He cuts inside, beats one man, and slips it into the middle!"
"Leo Lin!"
"He turns it toward the far post!"
"Mané with the shot!!!"
"And he somehow misses!"
"That was classic!"
"In martial arts, speed is unbeatable!"
"Another lightning-fast Liverpool counterattack!"
"But it doesn't end in a goal. Mané's shot, under pressure from Bellerín, struck Čech, and Bellerín followed up with a huge clearance to relieve the danger!"
The fans barely dared to blink, afraid of missing something spectacular.
The tempo of the match kept increasing. Both teams continued attacking in an organized manner according to their tactical ideas.
Leo Lin kept observing.
Since the second half began, he hadn't just focused on defending and intercepting. His sharp eyes constantly scanned Arsenal's midfield and back line.
Xhaka's attention remained fixed on him, and Wilshere as well.
When Arsenal pushed forward, their defenders stopped joining the attack to avoid being caught on the counter. That made it difficult for Liverpool's front three to create numerical superiority during counterattacks.
But Leo Lin quickly noticed something.
If the defenders stayed back, Arsenal's midfielders had to push forward in order to maintain their one-touch passing combinations.
Wilshere was the one constantly pushing up to combine with Ramsey.
As long as his timing was precise, Arsenal's defensive midfield position would be left with only Xhaka.
66th minute.
Klopp waved from the touchline, preparing to make a substitution. Lallana was ready to come on.
Before the ball even went out of play, Karius suddenly spotted a passing lane.
Leo Lin, who had been positioned centrally, suddenly surged forward with long strides, charging straight behind Xhaka.
Karius immediately launched a long pass.
Xhaka attempted to intercept it with a header, but Leo Lin cleverly bumped him aside, winning the positional advantage.
He controlled the ball with the instep, lifted his leg as if to shoot, then feinted and cut the ball out to the right.
The Egyptian Pharaoh, Salah, received it.
He cut inside, creating space, shaping as if to pass, but instead paused to assess the situation.
Meanwhile, Leo Lin, who had just been in the center, sprinted forward again.
This time he wasn't running vertically. Instead, he made a textbook horizontal run, circling toward the far post.
Bellerín instantly realized that beside him, in addition to Mané, Leo Lin had suddenly appeared as well.
"Cover the far post!"
He had just shouted the warning when Salah's half-lofted cross arrived.
But the delivery wasn't ideal.
It dropped at an awkward height—too high for a clean shot, too low for a header.
Watching the ball arrive, an unconventional shooting motion suddenly flashed through Leo Lin's mind.
He leapt high into the air.
With one explosive step, he thrust his right leg forward as if charging through the air. Then, as if running mid-flight, his right leg's momentum swung his left leg back and through.
As his body rose through the air, Leo Lin struck Salah's cross in mid-air.
Bang!!!
Swish!!!
A lightning-fast volley in mid-air!
A flying volley strike!
Goal!!!
"Oh my goodness!!!"
Jon Champion roared in shock.
"A lightning-fast strike in mid-air!"
"Leo Lin! A thunderous volley!"
"A flying volley into the net!!!"
"A moment of pure inspiration!"
"A moment when the magic of football bursts into life!"
"This is football!!!"
The entire stadium exploded.
The South Stand of Wembley Stadium was packed with Liverpool supporters.
Leo Lin sprinted toward the touchline, originally planning to celebrate with a front flip.
But when he saw the ecstatic fans, red smoke filling the air, and his teammates charging wildly toward him—
As if injected with adrenaline, Leo Lin changed his mind.
He spun toward the corner flag, leaned forward, and burst into a sprint, sending water splashing everywhere across the rain-soaked pitch.
Jon Champion shook his head, laughing in disbelief as he shouted.
"A lightning-fast volley!"
"On a rainy night, he slays the Gunners!"
"Magnificent!"
"Absolutely magnificent!"
...
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