Chapter 22: Hey, Gary, are you still betting?

Chapter 22: Hey, Gary, do you still want to bet?

Wenger and Bould, along with the coaching staff behind them, and even the Arsenal players on the bench, were all wearing identical expressions of shock, as if they had been copy-pasted.

It took quite a while for everyone to snap out of it.

The players on the bench sprang up, arms raised, cheering wildly. Bould let out a roar as he grabbed Wenger.

"Damn it! Incredible! Incredible!! This is an amazing kid!! Arsene! He is absolutely amazing!!"

"Yes! He is truly amazing!!"

Wenger was almost squeezed breathless by Bould. He felt exceptionally invigorated.

"To hell with Van Persie and his 'little boy' inside! We have a better option now!!!"

If Wenger had still been harboring any lingering attachment or nostalgia for Van Persie before this, seeing that goal convinced him once and for all: the answer to Arsenal’s forward line was this kid.

He was calm, possessed a brilliant nose for goal, and was a natural-born predator. He was tall, and once his physique matured, his ability to withstand physical duels would only increase. His speed was gradually returning, too.

More importantly, he had a brave heart.

In that situation, he dared to pull the trigger. He dared to take the risk—one of the essential qualities of a top-tier striker.

You have to understand, in that moment, had Li Mo simply controlled the ball and waited for teammates to support him, it might have been a safer play. It might have been considered "reasonable," and even if the attack had failed, no one would have blamed him. But he chose to strike.

If he had blazed that ball wide, people would only have said that Li Mo wasted a golden opportunity for a quick counterattack. But as a striker, if you don’t have the heart to step up and bravely attack the goal in a critical moment, how could you ever become a prolific scorer?

Wenger even began to consider how to design tactics specifically around Li Mo.

Walcott stood there, utterly stunned, staring at the scene. Considering that Li Mo was only seventeen, Walcott suddenly realized that his real competition might not be Li Mo, but rather the big man, Giroud. Even so, he didn't feel optimistic. Unless he was willing to move to the wing to compete with Podolski, Gervinho, and Oxlade-Chamberlain, he was in trouble. Walcott shook his head; Li Mo’s goal had nearly kicked away all his confidence in competing for a spot.

At this moment, the Milan match had already concluded. The woeful AC Milan finally avoided a defeat this time, drawing 1-1 against Napoli at home. In truth, AC Milan’s performance was decent, and they created plenty of chances. However, the starting striker, Balotelli, played as if he were sleepwalking, squandering every opportunity. Fortunately, in the dying moments of the match, midfielder Kevin-Prince Boateng stepped up and smashed home a long-range screamer, scoring Milan’s first goal of the season and avoiding the embarrassment of three consecutive losses to start the campaign.

Inzaghi, however, didn't care much about the flow of that game, as his attention was entirely on his phone. Seeing Li Mo blast the ball into the net, Inzaghi finally dropped the act. He held his phone in his left hand and clenched his right fist, his face glowing with excitement.

This clearly struck the nearby reporters as very strange. Instead of rushing onto the pitch to chase the players, many of them swarmed toward Inzaghi as he prepared to leave.

"Pippo, you had a mysterious smile when Milan conceded..."

"Pippo, what are you so excited about on your phone?"

Inzaghi felt a slight headache. He knew he would attract attention, so he spoke candidly: "It’s a pity Milan couldn't win this game, but I am happy for my nephew."

"Nephew?"

"Yes! Li Mo. He came off the bench for Arsenal’s first team and scored two goals in stoppage time to help the team complete a comeback!"

After saying this, Inzaghi hurried away. As a youth team coach and a retired legend, it wasn't really appropriate for him to discuss players from other teams in such a setting. But he was just too excited.

Today, Inzaghi walked with a spring in his step. When AC Milan wanted to sell Li Mo, he had been firmly against it, but he was only a youth coach with no say in the first team. Moreover, since Li Mo was his nephew, if the head coach didn't want to use him, keeping him at AC Milan by force would only hurt his future. That was why Inzaghi hadn't used his influence to keep him.

Looking at it now, leaving AC Milan was the best choice for Li Mo. The current AC Milan squad had downgraded significantly. Compared to the lineup that won the Serie A title two seasons ago, their quality in defense, midfield, and attack had plummeted. Combined with the club’s lack of funds to rebuild, it was painfully clear that AC Milan was headed down a slippery slope.

Inzaghi sighed. Even for that reason alone, he supported Li Mo’s decision to move on. It was just a shame—he wondered when AC Milan would ever get back on its feet.

Li Mo finally had a chance to celebrate. Having turned the game around, how could he not celebrate properly? Delaying the restart was only fair for a goal as breathtakingly beautiful as that one.

As the ball hit the back of the net, a surge of adrenaline rushed through Li Mo. "Holy sh*t!!!!" he screamed, sprinting toward the corner flag with a savage expression on his face.

A long-distance diagonal pass, a volley, a world-class goal, and two goals in one minute to secure a last-gasp victory! What could be better than this?

By the end, Li Mo didn't even know how he ended up buried under a pile of Arsenal players, both from the pitch and the bench.

"That was amazing!!"

"I love you!!"

"Damn it! Damn it!! If I were a woman, I’d let you f*ck me tonight!!"

"I’m not a woman, but that’s fine too!!"

Li Mo’s expression changed in horror. *Are you guys plotting something sinister while pinning me down?!*

After the celebrations, Wenger quickly made his substitution decisions. Firstly, to kill time; secondly, to bring on defensive players to ensure they didn't concede in the final minutes and secure their hard-earned first win of the season.

Thus, Vermaelen came on after recovering from injury to replace Giroud, and Ramsey came on to replace Podolski. With two strikers off and a midfielder and a defender on, Arsenal shifted into a 5-4-1 formation. Although "The Professor" loved beautiful football, to hell with beautiful football for now—victory was what mattered!

By the time Arsenal finished their substitutions, there was very little time left. Many Manchester City fans had already left the stadium early; if they didn't leave now, they wouldn't make it home. The stadium was gradually being taken over by ecstatic Arsenal fans.

"Hey, Gary, does your bet still stand?"

"Hey, Gary, do you still want to bet?"

"Gary, go f*ck yourself, Gary Neville!!"

The Arsenal fans sang and danced toward Gary Neville in the commentary box, making the Manchester United legend’s face turn the color of liver.