Chapter 71: The Hat!! [Third Update]

Alan Pardew made tactical adjustments during the halftime break.

Although the exact reason remained unclear, anyone with a discerning eye could see that the rest of Arsenal's players were entirely fixated on passing the ball to Li Mo so he could score, even when they had clear scoring opportunities themselves.

Therefore, if Arsenal maintained this attacking pattern in the second half, Newcastle would find things much easier. They just needed to focus entirely on marking Li Mo.

Of course, if Arsenal changed their approach in the second half, Newcastle would need to be prepared for that as well.

As the second half commenced, Alan Pardew rubbed his temples.

"What on earth is going on in Arsenal's minds?"

He had practically racked his brains until they felt ready to explode, yet he still couldn't make sense of it, so he simply decided to stop thinking.

At any rate, Arsenal playing this way was beneficial to Newcastle. At the very least, it made defending a much simpler task.

Li Mo was undoubtedly formidable, but under heavy marking by multiple defenders, scoring goals remained an extremely difficult challenge. Once the threat of Arsenal's attack diminished, Newcastle's counterattack wouldn't be far behind.

Alan Pardew was waiting for the moment when Arsenal's momentum would fade—specifically, if Li Mo continued to be double-teamed and failed to convert his attacks, would the rest of Arsenal's players still firmly believe that such a tactic could yield goals?

Pardew put himself in their shoes and concluded that he personally would find such a setup very difficult to accept.

Thus, he eagerly anticipated the moment Arsenal's attacking momentum would plummet.

Yet, he miscalculated again—this match simply defied normal logic.

In a typical game, when faced with an opponent whose forward is heavily double-teamed, a team would certainly not stubbornly pass the ball straight into a crowd of defenders. If the coaching staff forcibly demanded such passes, the inevitable consequence would be a loss of confidence among the players, which in turn leads to a decline in match form, ultimately resulting in a high probability of defeat.

Yet, this match proved to be an exception.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty minutes passed.

The scoreline remained unchanged.

And Arsenal's players were still tirelessly seeking out Li Mo.

Through the center, down the flanks, high balls, low balls, through-balls, crosses, set-pieces—every conceivable method was tried over and over again. Even though Li Mo was clearly surrounded by multiple defenders, they continued to pass to him.

Had their brains all been hijacked by computer programs today?

Newcastle's players felt utterly exasperated. They had been suppressed for nearly the entire match by such an inexplicable tactic, and furthermore, there was no end in sight to this suppression.

Li Mo scrambled back up from the turf, his jersey stained with mud and blades of grass.

A moment ago, a cross had come in from the flank. He had leaped high to contest a header, only for the goalkeeper to pluck the ball right out of the air from above his head. He had collided with goalkeeper Tim Krul and crashed to the ground. The referee's whistle had blown, penalizing him for a foul on the goalkeeper.

Li Mo quickly rose and retreated, a trace of reluctance etched across his face.

To outsiders, scoring yet again meant he had notched fourteen goals in eighteen league matches—already an astonishing achievement.

What they didn't know, however, was that Li Mo was still desperately striving for more.

He needed a second goal, and a third. A hat-trick was a mandatory objective he had set for himself today, no matter how difficult the task might be!

Up in the stands, the supporters at St James' Park were still making a tremendous racket, roaring to cheer on their team.

"The counterattack will begin next!"

They firmly believed in this. English fans possessed a solid understanding of football; even when a relegation-battling side faced title contenders, if the title contenders pressed continuously without scoring, the underdogs would inevitably earn an opportunity to counter!

Arsenal led by one goal to nil, and counting from the first half up to now, fifty minutes had elapsed. For fifty minutes, Arsenal's attack had still failed to break through Newcastle's goal!

This meant Arsenal had no alternative means of scoring today. Newcastle's counterattack could very well be unleashed at any second!

As they defended, confidence gradually began to build among Newcastle's players. They started to venture forward into attacks. If Newcastle could manage to net a goal at this juncture, the blow to Arsenal's morale would be absolutely fatal!

Li Mo was well aware of this. Whether for the team's objective or his own personal milestone, scoring goals was the ultimate way to turn the tide!

Goals! Goals! Goals! I am going to score!

Li Mo drifted out to the left side of the penalty area to receive the ball, but the moment he attempted to turn, Cheick Tioté hauled him down to the turf with a combination of pulling and dragging.

Arsenal's attack was halted, but they were awarded a free kick on the left side just outside the penalty area.

Li Mo didn't waste time entangling with Tioté. He stood straight up and strode directly into the penalty box.

A free kick was a prime opportunity for him as well.

Center-backs Thomas Vermaelen and Per Mertesacker had also moved up. With their imposing height, their presence inside the penalty area carried considerable threat.

However, Newcastle had also massed heavy forces inside the box, with every single Newcastle player dropping back to participate in defense.

The penalty area was densely packed with bodies.

Li Mo stood right between Vermaelen and Mertesacker, the two defenders acting as his screen. On the opposite side, Olivier Giroud and Abou Diaby were tasked with shoving away any defenders attempting to close in on Li Mo.

The physical grappling between the opposing players inside the box forced the referee to blow his whistle twice in quick succession, issuing warnings to keep the physical contact to a minimum.

Li Mo stood slightly on his tiptoes, bouncing lightly, appearing ready at any moment to launch himself into a powerful header.

Throughout this period, Arsenal's attacking approach had grown increasingly simplistic—which, in Alan Pardew's view, was a clear sign that Arsenal's players were becoming more and more anxious.

Santi Cazorla, tasked with taking the free kick, fixed his gaze upon Li Mo.

Their eyes met.

At this moment, it was a true test of telepathic understanding.

Li Mo decided to utilize the screens set by Mertesacker, Vermaelen, and Giroud to dart toward the near post. But he couldn't verbalize this intention; he could only raise his arm high, pointing his index finger toward the sky—the standard hand signal for a near-post corner kick. Li Mo had no idea whether Cazorla had caught his meaning, but he had no choice left except to gamble.

Cazorla's expression remained impassive as he lowered his gaze back down to the ball.

Accompanied by the shrill blast of the referee's whistle, Cazorla took his run-up and lofted an inswinging ball into the box.

At that exact instant, Li Mo abruptly broke away from the crowd of players, cutting a hooked curve to dash toward the near post!

Launch, accelerate, surge, leap!

During this frantic sequence, his teammates had effectively constructed a wall for him—a wall that kept the defenders at bay!

Yet, the number of Arsenal's attacking players was ultimately fewer than the mass of defenders. Guarding the near post was Newcastle's center-forward, Demba Ba.

Demba Ba hadn't spotted Li Mo, but he had spotted the ball.

The trajectory of the cross wasn't particularly high—the kind where a simple jump would allow a defender to clear it comfortably.

However, just as Demba Ba prepared to spring into the air, he suddenly felt a dark shadow cast over him, blocking out the light!

"Li Mo!"

Commentator Andy Gray exclaimed in astonishment.

Propelled by the sheer momentum of his sprint, Li Mo's leaping height brought him almost level with the crossbar.

More crucially, the player marking Li Mo inside the box was fellow striker Demba Ba—and judging solely by this moment, Demba Ba's defensive abilities fell far short of his center-back partners.

He seemed utterly startled, failing to react or move at all. It wasn't until he saw Li Mo preparing to snap his head forward that he finally snapped out of his daze and jumped!

Yet, how could Demba Ba, jumping from a stationary position, possibly contend with Li Mo, who had launched himself off a full-speed sprint?

Li Mo towered over Demba Ba, and before the force of the collision could knock him off balance, he snapped his neck forward in a powerful downward header!

The ball zipped fiercely into the back of the net once again!

"He's bagged a brace!"

Andy Gray shrieked in ecstasy.

"Two to nil! Arsenal score again! The goalscorer, number 19, Li Mo!"

"Brilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant!"

The commentary booth erupted into a frenzy.

Meanwhile, up in the stands of St James' Park, dead silence reigned.

Newcastle United's fans had originally assumed Arsenal's stagnant attacking rhythm could never breach their defense, and they had been eagerly awaiting a counterattack from their home side. Instead, the reward for their patience was conceding another goal!

On the pitch, Newcastle's players looked similarly dazed.

Up until this point, their confidence had been steadily accumulating.

"Arsenal's attack can't hurt us; it's time for their luck to run out!"

That conviction had sustained Newcastle's players, driving them to fight with growing courage.

Yet this goal struck like a basin of ice-cold water, drenching them through to the bone.

Tim Krul had witnessed the entire sequence of the goal. Li Mo's sprint, jump, and header had all transpired within the blink of an eye—as if Li Mo had known precisely where the ball would land before Cazorla had even kicked it.

How could anyone possibly react in time? Krul hadn't even had time to make a movement; his body simply froze for a split second, and the next moment, the ball was already spinning wildly inside the net behind him.

Li Mo had no spare attention to bestow upon the demoralized state of his opponents.

Upon completing his header, he collided mid-air with Demba Ba, and both tumbled heavily to the ground, losing their balance.

Li Mo had already watched the ball cross the goal line while still in mid-air. The moment he hit the turf, he shoved Demba Ba aside and roared as he sprinted toward the sidelines.

Before he could run far, he was engulfed from behind by Mertesacker.

The towering 1.91-meter frame of Li Mo suddenly looked rather diminutive alongside the nearly two-meter-tall Mertesacker, who promptly tackled him to the ground in a celebratory embrace.

"Brilliant job!"

"Damn it! That was magnificent!" Giroud piled on top of them next, followed swiftly by Vermaelen and Diaby.

"Incredible! Unbelievable! Astounding! The second goal! Li Mo has scored a brace! He has netted his fifteenth goal of the English Premier League season!"

Andy Gray's voice was heavy with profound awe.

"He is the most phenomenal player in the Premier League this season! He is the most talked-about rising star to burst onto the scene!"

"Just one more to go!"

Arsenal's technical area was an explosion of celebration.

In the dugout, the coaching staff were also raising their arms in triumph.

"He's going to do it! He's genuinely going to do it!" Assistant manager Steve Bould cried out in disbelief.

"Make the substitution! Bring on an attacking player!"

Arsène Wenger could no longer contain his composure, looking visibly stirred.

The bet? He didn't care about it in the slightest. In truth, he had never intended to punish Li Mo anyway.

From his perspective, letting Li Mo unwind and go out occasionally actually gave him greater peace of mind. At the very least, it proved that Li Mo was a normal young man with a normal social life. If he locked himself inside the training ground day in and day out, that would be far too frightening.

Furthermore, he certainly had no intention of standing in the way of Li Mo's hat-trick.

If Li Mo could complete a hat-trick under such circumstances, the boost to his confidence would be immeasurable.

Where did a player's form stem from? Mostly from confidence!

With confidence, everything flows naturally.

Li Mo was the team's most relied-upon attacking weapon. The higher his confidence soared, the greater the dividends it would pay for the squad!

Wenger decided to make a double substitution immediately, sending on both Theo Walcott and Aaron Ramsey. Walcott would enter to inject explosive pace down the flanks, while Ramsey would replace the recently injury-recovered Diaby—Diaby needed to be managed carefully.

Bringing on two fresh, energetic youngsters simultaneously would help maintain the team's intensity on the pitch.

Li Mo's goal had arrived at a crucial juncture. This strike instantly propelled Arsenal's waning confidence back up to its absolute peak.

They resumed a relentless, heavy siege against Newcastle.

Li Mo, too, tirelessly battered the penalty area: running, making forward dashes, seeking out gaps, attacking the ball, heading, and shooting from distance, squeezing every ounce of potential out of his attributes.

"Li Mo! Li Mo with a long-range strike from outside the box! Krul makes another save! A corner! It's a corner for Arsenal!"

"Li Mo is still hunting for goals! He is still chasing his third goal!"

"He's attempting to complete a hat-trick—his second hat-trick in the Premier League!"

Up in the commentary booth, Sky Sports commentator Andy Gray spoke with surging excitement.

He had witnessed Li Mo's maiden hat-trick—the very match where Li Mo shattered Michael Owen's record as the youngest player to score a Premier League hat-trick.

And now, if he could pull off another hat-trick...

That would be utterly sensational. Not yet eighteen years of age, yet already bagging two Premier League hat-tricks!

Newcastle United's players had long since abandoned any thoughts of mounting a counterattack.

The relentless tempest of Arsenal's attacks forced them to funnel their absolute entirety of energy into mere survival defense.

At the same time, a stubborn pride burned within them. They had felt utterly frustrated throughout this match, especially as Li Mo's two goals had stung them deeply given that Arsenal had openly channeled every single play through him.

If Arsenal managed to secure a hat-trick for Li Mo using this exact one-dimensional method, Newcastle United would lose every shred of face.

It was simply intolerable!

The driving motivation sustaining Newcastle United's players on the pitch had now morphed into a singular resolve: "We must not let Li Mo score a third!"

Fueled by this conviction, their defending grew even more uncompromising.

The match clock ticked away second by second.

The game was hurtling into its dying moments.

In the eighty-ninth minute, the fourth official raised the electronic board on the touchline: five minutes of stoppage time.

There were only the final five or six minutes remaining until the final whistle.

At St James' Park, despite their side trailing by two goals, the fans' songs and chants of encouragement remained loud and proud. They were still fighting alongside their team to the bitter end.

Meanwhile, Arsenal's traveling supporters had already begun celebrating the victory.

Securing a two-goal victory and all three points at this notoriously difficult away ground left them thoroughly satisfied. Winning this match meant they could sit back and comfortably wait for Manchester United or Manchester City to slip up in this round.

However, Li Mo and his teammates were still pressing forward for more.

As the game drew to its absolute close, Arsenal committed bodies forward en masse, with even their central defenders crossing the halfway line.

Aaron Ramsey drifted wide to collect the ball on the flank. He glanced toward the crowded penalty area, noting that all the wide options were tightly marked, and instantly decided to whip in a cross himself.

The moment the cross left his boot, Ramsey's heart skipped a beat.

He had mis-hit it.

The delivery turned into a half-height ball, skimming through the air right at thigh height.

Li Mo had originally intended to attack the near post, his hand firmly pressed against his marker, Fabricio Coloccini.

Noticing the trajectory of the ball hanging dangerously in mid-air, Li Mo hurriedly adjusted his footwork to face the oncoming flight directly.

Coloccini gave him a shove from behind.

Li Mo stumbled slightly, taking a forward step that inadvertently placed him a fraction further away from the ball's ideal path.

Seeing the ball about to flash past his flank, almost entirely on instinct, Li Mo lifted his left foot and hooked the ball up over his own head. At the same time, he planted his hand on the turf to pivot his body around.

The ball began its descent right out of the air.

*Snap!* A flash of inspiration struck Li Mo's mind.

There was no time to think.

His right leg was already cocked and swinging back...

Amidst the stunned gasps of everyone inside the stadium, Li Mo didn't wait for the ball to drop to the ground.

With his right foot, he unleashed a ferocious, full-blooded instep volley!

*Boom!*

A thunderous sound echoed across the pitch.

The next instant, the ball screamed just underneath the crossbar, rocketing straight into the back of the net!