The livestream storm had cleared Su Mang's name, turning him from a national disgrace into a misunderstood anti-hero back in China. But in England, reputation was built on grass, not on the internet.
Three days later. Liverpool.
Anfield Stadium.
This was the cathedral of English football. When fifty thousand fans raised their red scarves and sang "You'll Never Walk Alone," the sheer acoustic pressure was enough to make ordinary players' legs tremble.
Wolves were visiting the lion's den. Their opponent was Liverpool, led by the passionate German manager, Jurgen Kloppo.
Even in 2025, Liverpool remained a terrifying force of high-pressing "Heavy Metal" football. Their attack featured the Egyptian King, Mo Sallah, and the chaotic force of nature, Darwin Nunez.
But their true strength lay in their defense, anchored by the man considered the best center-back in the world: Virgil Van Dyke (VVD).
Inside the locker room, Wolves' manager Lage looked nervous.
"Listen. Anfield is a nightmare. The first 20 minutes will be hell. We must survive the press!"
He turned to Su Mang. "Su, you have the hardest job. You need to stop Nunez physically, but be careful of Van Dyke on set pieces. Do not try to challenge him in the air; he is a monster."
Su Mang tightened his laces, a cold smirk playing on his lips.
"A monster? Coach, I eat monsters for breakfast."
— THE IMMOVABLE OBJECT —
Tweet! The whistle blew.
As predicted, Liverpool swarmed like angry hornets. The high press was suffocating. Wolves could barely get the ball out of their own half.
In the 15th minute, Sallah cut inside from the right wing, his signature move. He prepared to curl a shot into the far corner.
"Not today," Su Mang muttered.
He didn't tackle; he simply occupied the space. He slammed his shoulder into Sallah's path. The Egyptian winger bounced off Su Mang as if he had run into a concrete pillar.
In the 25th minute, Nunez tried to outmuscle Su Mang for a long ball.
Thud.
The two collided in the air. Nunez fell to the ground, clutching his ribs, gasping for air. Su Mang landed lightly, chesting the ball down and clearing it with ease.
The Anfield crowd booed loudly. They weren't used to seeing their physical strikers bullied like children.
But Wolves couldn't attack. Standing at the halfway line was Virgil Van Dyke. The Dutchman was calm, elegant, and imperious. Every clearance Su Mang made, Van Dyke collected with ease, recycling the possession. He was a wall that Wolves could not pass.
— THE UNSTOPPABLE FORCE —
Minute 44. Just before halftime.
Su Mang intercepted a pass deep in his own half. Usually, he would clear it. But this time, he looked up.
He saw Van Dyke retreating, organizing the Liverpool defense. The Dutchman was inviting Su Mang to run, confident that he could herd the clumsy Chinese defender into a trap.
"He thinks I can only tackle?" Su Mang thought. "Time to test the new weapon."
Su Mang didn't pass. He began to gallop forward.
He crossed the halfway line.
The Liverpool midfield collapsed on him, but he shrugged them off with pure momentum.
35 yards from goal.
This was the "safe zone" where defenders usually didn't press hard, expecting a pass.
Van Dyke stepped back, keeping his eyes on the passing lanes, his positioning flawless.
But Su Mang stopped running.
He planted his left foot into the turf, creating a crater.
His right leg swung back like a medieval siege engine. The muscles in his thigh swelled, tearing at the fabric of his shorts.
[ACTIVATING S-CLASS SKILL: "THE HERCULEAN CANNON"!]
[Target Locked: The Net!]
[Power Output: 200%!]
"DIE!!!"
KA-BOOM—!!!
The sound was not a kick; it was an explosion. It sounded like a gunshot amplified through the stadium speakers.
The ball, subjected to terrifying kinetic force, visibly deformed into an oval shape as it left Su Mang's boot. It didn't spin. It didn't curve. It screamed through the air in a straight line, tearing a vacuum in the atmosphere.
Van Dyke's eyes widened in horror. He instinctively turned his head to avoid being decapitated by the white blur.
In the Liverpool goal, Ellison, the world-class Brazilian goalkeeper, reacted instantly. He saw the ball coming. It was straight at him.
"I got it!" Ellison thought, raising both gloved hands to punch the ball away.
It was a mistake.
He shouldn't have tried to catch a meteor.
SMACK!
The ball hit Ellison's gloves.
But it didn't bounce away. The rotational force and sheer weight of the shot overwhelmed his wrists.
"ARGH!" Ellison screamed as his wrists buckled backward.
The ball, still carrying immense momentum, smashed into his face.
And then, the impossible happened.
The force of the shot lifted the 90kg goalkeeper off his feet.
It carried him, backward, across the goal line.
WHOOSH!
The ball, and the goalkeeper, crashed into the net together.
GOAL!!!
1-0.
Ellison lay tangled in the net, nose bleeding, eyes unfocused, looking like a man who had been hit by a truck. The ball was still spinning next to him, smoking slightly against the mesh.
Silence.
Absolute, total silence descended upon Anfield. Fifty thousand people forgot to breathe.
On the sideline, Jurgen Kloppo's jaw dropped, his glasses slipping down his nose. "Das ist unmöglich... (That is impossible...)"
Van Dyke stood frozen, looking back at his broken goalkeeper, then slowly turning to look at the monster standing 35 yards away. A chill ran down the Dutchman's spine. He didn't just beat the defense. He murdered it.
Su Mang slowly lowered his leg.
He didn't run. He didn't scream.
He simply stood there, chest heaving, looking up at the famous "Kop" stand filled with stunned Liverpool fans.
He raised his right hand to his ear, cupping it in a mocking gesture.
"I can't hear you!"
"Where is the song? Sing for me!"
From the small away section, the Wolves fans erupted in delirium, their cheers piercing the silence of the library that Anfield had become.
On that night, the cannon fire of the Tyrant shattered the myth of Anfield's invincibility.