A Long-Range Brace!

"Captain!"

"Amazing!!"

The Arsenal players all surged toward Gilbert, who had spread his arms wide in celebration. He smiled, turned around, and hugged the first few players who rushed up to him.

Then he spotted Maël in the crowd and teased, "That was an easy assist for you."

For that goal just now, Maël had only laid the ball back simply, and he had picked up an assist.

It had a bit of the effortless feel of Busquets's century assist to Messi.

Maël tipped his head back and laughed softly, not arguing. "If you passed to me more often, you could pick up easy assists too."

No matter what, he was still extremely delighted. When judging the performances of attacking players up front, things were much simpler than with midfielders and defenders. Most of the time, the stats alone were enough.

At this point in the match, he had already recorded one goal and one assist. Both of the team's goals were connected to him!

It was safe to say there would not be much of a problem with him staying.

He could earn a weekly wage of a few hundred pounds, buy himself some good boots one after another, stock up on nutritional supplements, then unlock a few new abilities and grind them to a high level! The future was promising.

Maël's mood improved even more. His whole body felt light, and he pushed all his fatigue to the back of his mind, ready to keep fighting hard for a while longer.

If he could get another goal or assist, then the extent to which he stood out in this match would draw the attention of Professor Wenger and quite a few scouts. Maybe he would even get a chance to enter a professional team ahead of schedule.

"All right, hurry back!"

After celebrating for a while, captain Gilbert showed his refusal to accept defeat. He called out to all his teammates, "There's still time. We can't be satisfied with just scoring. We have to push for the win as much as possible!"

The other players nodded and returned to their own half. The referee then blew the whistle for the match to restart.

As attack and defense unfolded again, the Liverpool players gradually began to feel some pressure. They realized their opponents' fighting spirit had surged back up, as if sweeping away their previous slump.

A brilliant individual goal and the narrowing of the score had given them a bit of confidence and something to hope for.

"Don't get careless. Defenders, keep tight on your men and stop their forwards from receiving the ball and turning!"

The Liverpool U17 head coach also stood up on the touchline at this moment and began giving instructions on the spot. "Especially that number 10. Don't let him receive the ball. Louis, you need to help your teammates cover him!"

Clearly, he also knew Arsenal had sent on quite a few trial players for this match, so this was not their strongest lineup.

If Liverpool still could not win decisively under these circumstances, then he knew very well that the next time the club evaluated and replaced the coaching staff, he would definitely be eliminated.

Not far away, Hans and Wenger noticed the Liverpool U17 head coach's abnormal behavior and nervousness.

They were all in the same profession, so they knew very well that in European football, where the strong survived and the weak were eliminated, coaches and players alike faced enormous pressure.

"Our club's replacement process should still be a long way off, right?"

Hans rubbed his head and looked at Wenger. This seemed to be a habitual gesture of his, and when he was facing an older senior, it even looked a little cute. "Nothing major seems to have happened at the club recently. Everything's calm and quiet."

Wenger glanced at him, then turned his gaze back to the pitch and said sternly, "Calm and quiet means there won't be any signings this season. It has nothing to do with replacements.

"And once there are no signings, the First Team coaching staff will pick talent from the youth teams to move up. If the players selected then are too far from First Team level and fail to meet the requirements, who do you think will be held responsible?"

Hans's expression froze. He stood petrified on the spot, as if his whole body had fallen into an ice cellar.

What those words meant was... if the older youth teams failed to produce outstanding players, then the corresponding coaching staff would have to leave.

The U17 team he coached seemed to be the one under the greatest pressure.

Because in general, players with potential gradually began to stand out at the age of seventeen. Once they moved up to U19, the chances of them breaking through became much smaller.

Hans had heard that some major country even had policies related to U23 players. It was truly enviable, but that was not very possible in the fiercely competitive world of English football.

At this moment, all he could do was lament his bad luck. It just so happened that this situation came up while he was in charge of the U17s.

"I can give you a heads-up first."

Wenger's voice sounded again, carrying a tone that brooked no argument. "During the previous planning, the club had checked off both Gilbert and Ian from the U17 team. Their performances in the First Team will determine your work evaluation report."

"Ian."

Hans glanced at Ian on the defensive line, hesitated for a moment, then said, "Ian is the defender who was blaming his teammate earlier... shirking responsibility."

"Oh."

Wenger was slightly surprised, then returned to calm. "Then cross his name off. I'll have the assistant coach pick someone else when the time comes."

As he said that, his eyes swept subconsciously toward Maël on the pitch.

As it happened, Maël had just received the ball with his back to goal. While lowering his center of gravity to hold off the opposing defender, he dragged the ball, preparing to turn.

"Is he going to hit one again?"

Wenger murmured inwardly, drawing Hans beside him to also turn his gaze toward the pitch and notice Maël with the ball.

"Kid! Blast it!"

"Don't be scared! Just turn and smash one at them!"

"Come on, come on!"

Jeering encouragement came from the fan section behind them. Quite a few people had clearly already remembered Maël's face and characteristics, and they were urging him to shoot from distance again.

Under everyone's gaze, Maël on the pitch finally managed to turn around with difficulty.

He feinted as if he were swinging his leg for a shot, throwing the opposing defender's balance off, then gently nudged the ball to the right before exploding off both feet to catch up.

What came next was simple.

He planted his supporting foot firmly, swung his left arm back to stretch out his body, and then his right thigh drove his calf through the ball in one fierce strike! Bang!!

The football was like a sharp sword, like a flying dagger, smashing straight toward the far corner.

"Will it ever end?!" Liverpool's goalkeeper's face turned ugly. He cried out in misery and flung himself across again, but unfortunately, he still failed to reach it this time.

Swish! The football struck the middle of the far corner, making the net tremble violently and cave backward by more than two feet. The power behind it was clear to see.

The ball had gone in again! Three-three! Maël had hammered in his second goal of the match, a brace!

"Yeah!" The Arsenal fans on the sidelines all rose to their feet, spread their arms, and cheered in celebration, sharing in the joy of the goal.

"What's his name?" someone asked, extremely curious.

"This kid picked exactly the right time to show his power. Mr. Wenger happens to be on the sidelines—he'll definitely remember this kid!" someone sighed to himself.

"Is this some kind of magic? How can someone hit two long shots in one match? Terrifyingly consistent!" someone else clutched his head.

All the fans looked at the figure charging toward the sideline to celebrate, feeling sincere admiration and joy from the bottom of their hearts.

Did you see that?

A heavy gunner! This was the youth academy of Arsenal, The Gunners—this was our future!