Chapter 102: Striding Forward with Confidence

Inside Liverpool’s penalty area, David Zhiwei and Kolo Touré leapt almost simultaneously, soaring toward the descending ball, their heads held high in a diving challenge. Kolo Touré, the quintessential strong defender, was no longer in his prime, but he was still formidable. Even realizing he might not reach the ball, he swung his head fiercely toward it, determined to disrupt David Zhiwei’s header. He wasn’t aiming to touch the ball, merely to interfere with David’s accuracy.

David collided forcefully with Touré midair; his forehead missed the intended spot by a considerable margin. When he finally made contact, the ball glanced off his head and flew just past the post, skimming the upright before rolling out of play.

The Villarreal supporters, ready to erupt in celebration, could only let out a collective sigh of disappointment.

“Damn!” David Zhiwei yanked out a handful of turf in frustration. Such a precious opportunity, wasted.

On the other side, Kolo Touré was left with a lingering sense of dread. He hadn’t expected his interference to have so little effect—David’s header had missed by barely thirty centimeters.

On Villarreal's bench, Assistant Coach Xavi voiced his concern to Marcelino, “Should we consider substituting David and Soldado? We need more energy up front now.”

Marcelino pondered for a long moment before shaking his head. Seeing his assistant’s confusion, he explained, “Send Bakambu to warm up. We’ll replace Soldado soon, but David will stay a little longer.”

Xavi’s tone was uncertain. “The situation on the field isn’t clear. We might lose. Are you sure?”

“Perhaps,” Marcelino replied, “but tell me—do we have a striker more likely to score than David right now?”

Indeed, as Marcelino said, Villarreal’s other forwards had no advantage over David Zhiwei, apart from experience.

What’s more, David was fighting with a feverish intensity against Liverpool’s defense.

Yes, fighting.

David Zhiwei, whose career had always gone smoothly, had never felt such fierce desire to defeat his opponents. He was ashamed of his own lackluster performance tonight; only a goal and victory could wash away that shame.

There were still twenty minutes left—everything was still possible.

Unfortunately, after Liverpool broke the deadlock, they unleashed a ferocious wave of attacks, pinning Villarreal back and leaving David’s efforts wasted on exhausting runs.

The singing at Anfield never ceased, the crowd anticipating the Red’s decisive blow to end any suspense.

As the clock struck the seventy-fourth minute, Liverpool’s attack was cut off by Bruno, who slid in. Dos Santos seized the ball and charged toward the opposing penalty area. Emre Can hurried forward to block, hoping to stall Villarreal’s advance.

Dos Santos shifted and accelerated suddenly, leaving Can behind, then threaded a through ball to David Zhiwei.

In an instant, Dos Santos’s pass sliced through Liverpool’s midfield, but the defenders remained calm—David was the only Villarreal player in Liverpool’s half.

“A big moment—I love it!”

David had no intention of waiting for support. He drove forward, direct and fearless, his favorite way to score, and the best showcase for his abilities.

As David stormed to the edge of the box, Liverpool’s central defenders finally panicked.

Lovren and Kolo Touré positioned themselves, one ahead and one behind, layering their defense. Lovren stepped up to confront David.

Facing Lovren, David used a simple stepover to breeze past.

Lovren hadn’t expected to be outpaced so quickly and could only watch David’s back as he surged ahead.

But just as David bypassed Lovren, he met Touré.

David’s nimble feet shifted direction; at high speed, his feint left Touré unable to adjust his balance, and he was beaten.

David was now a step from entering Liverpool’s penalty area, but in the next second, he felt his body blocked and was violently knocked down inside the box.

“Penalty!”

“Dive!”

Anfield erupted into chaotic noise.

Kolo Touré stood innocently with both hands raised, signaling to the referee that he hadn’t fouled, accusing David of simulation.

“Is it a penalty? Is it a penalty? Let’s see what the referee decides!” Zhang Haixuan jumped up from his seat, shouting excitedly into the microphone. As a David Zhiwei fan, he’d been frustrated by David’s lack of brilliance tonight.

David sat on the ground, arms outstretched, looking expectantly at the referee. He wasn’t sure if he’d fallen inside the box—though he now sat within it, momentum had carried him forward two or three meters.

Disappointingly, the referee awarded only a free kick. Because Moreno was also inside the box, Touré received a yellow card.

Marcelino was exasperated, but the match continued. He couldn’t behave like a fan. He quickly pulled Bruno aside to adjust the formation, and sent Bakambu in for Soldado, who had been all but invisible.

Villarreal executed a tactical free kick, but it was broken up before they could shoot.

With Bakambu now able to hold up the ball up front, David’s performance improved. He was clearly better suited to playing behind a powerful center forward, as a second striker or winger.

“Damn it!”

In a slick counterattack, Pina played a precise through ball. David’s turn and dribble past Lovren was beautiful, but Touré beat him to the ball, heading it out for a throw, leaving David to curse his luck.

The match reached the eighty-fifth minute. The situation had stabilized: Villarreal pressed, Liverpool defended and countered.

Trigueros took a throw-in, passing to David, then sprinted forward with all his speed.

David shielded the ball, holding off Lovren, then quickly returned it to Trigueros before charging into the box himself.

Liverpool’s full-back Moreno raced toward Trigueros, who was flying down the flank. At the moment Moreno reached him, Trigueros dragged the ball back with his right foot, then accelerated, slipping past Moreno’s charging body.

Trigueros beat Moreno, and as Joe Allen closed in, he instantly tapped the ball to his left, sending it ahead to David, who was sprinting at full speed, then darted past Allen.

David’s run matched Trigueros’s pass perfectly; David played a quick one-two, and Trigueros met the bouncing ball.

With these rapid exchanges, David broke into the box.

Trigueros received the ball and didn’t stop, as Liverpool’s players were intercepting at full strength. Any hesitation would mean endless congestion.

Trigueros flicked the ball with his right foot, sending it quickly to the edge of the area—where Bakambu was waiting.

Bakambu was blocked by Clyne and, avoiding a tussle, flicked the ball back.

Pina, arriving in the center, received the pass, saw Bakambu starting his run, and lofted the ball high over Lallana to the left side of the box.

David Zhiwei was already there, with nobody between him and the goal, and even Mignolet had only just begun to move toward that side.

David faced a virtually empty net.

Without hesitation, he drew back his leg and blasted the ball toward the near corner.

Mignolet stretched desperately for the near post, but his positioning made it impossible to stop the shot.

Just as David was ready to celebrate, the ball struck Kolo Touré in front of the goal and deflected wide of the post.

“Handball! Handball!” All the Villarreal players near the box raised their hands, signaling to the referee for a handball.

“Referee, it was a handball!” David clearly saw the ball hit Touré’s arm before going wide, and ran to the referee, waving his arms.

“No, it hit my body and went out,” Touré, the wily veteran, denied it, as both teams crowded around the referee.

With the match nearing ninety minutes, no referee would lightly make such a call at this critical moment. The referee hurried to confer with his assistant.

Players from both sides clustered in the box, tense. David even stood behind the referee and linesman, waiting for their verdict.

The entire stadium was eerily silent; many fans covered their mouths, not daring to make a sound. Everyone awaited the final decision. Klopp stood at the touchline, while Marcelino paced anxiously, brow tightly furrowed.

Would Liverpool’s home advantage influence the outcome?

In that hush, the referee extended his right hand, pointing to the penalty spot, then sternly showed Kolo Touré a red card!

Penalty plus red card!

“The referee’s decision is spot-on. It’s a clear foul in the box, an unquestionable penalty. Look at David’s position, the Liverpool players’ position—this is a penalty, no doubt. David Zhiwei forced Liverpool’s Kolo Touré into a handball, and Villarreal earn a penalty in the eighty-eighth minute!” Zhang Haixuan, David’s most ardent commentator, announced with a smile.

“Come on!” Seeing the verdict, David clenched his fists and shouted triumphantly.

He confidently placed the ball on the penalty spot—twelve yards from goal.

This is the easiest scoring position on the pitch, but also the most pressure-laden.

Baggio in the 1994 World Cup, Albertini in 1998, Palermo in the 1999 Copa América, Beckham in Euro 2004—all these stars have fallen at the penalty spot.

David stepped back several meters, then felt he needed more space, retreating two more steps, nearly leaving the box.

By then, the referee had blown the whistle, signaling the penalty could be taken.

“Here we go!”

At the instant the whistle blew, David made his move, sprinting forward. On Liverpool’s goal line, Mignolet hopped nervously, stretching wide to maximize his defensive area.

David approached the ball, eyes fixed on the left side of the goal, ignoring Mignolet’s gestures.

“There!” Mignolet saw David’s shoulder and planted foot, guessed the direction, and instinctively dove for the lower left corner.

His intuition was correct, but as he flew, he could only grasp at air—David struck the ball with explosive force, sending it straight into the top corner.

A thunderous penalty—if you guess the direction, you still can’t reach it!

This is David Zhiwei’s most commanding penalty style.

“Gooooooooooooooal!” Zhang Haixuan roared, voice hoarse with excitement as David’s powerful shot found the net.

At the same time, the few Villarreal fans at Anfield erupted in jubilant cheers, leaping to their feet, scarves raised high.

David shouted in celebration after scoring, though it was the easiest goal of his career, its significance was immense.

Despite having scored match-winners before without nerves, he found himself tense at the penalty spot this time. Thankfully, the ball soared into Mignolet’s net as he wished!

1:1, aggregate 3:2—Villarreal retake the lead over two legs!

Liverpool brought on two substitutes, but with a man down, they couldn’t reverse their disadvantage. Marcelino replaced David with Adrian to run down the clock.

David strolled leisurely to the sideline, applauding the traveling Villarreal supporters in gratitude. The fans were clearly satisfied with the team and David’s performance, raising their scarves and chanting his name.

By now, it was the second minute of stoppage time.

In the end, Villarreal and Liverpool finished 1:1, and with an aggregate score of 3:2, Villarreal eliminated Liverpool and advanced proudly to the Europa League final!

Next stop: the championship match!