The Greatest Manager of All time

"Whoa! Angelos Charisteas! Charisteas with the winner! He has killed off Stoke City!

"Swansea score the decisive goal in the final moments of stoppage time, with Villa assisting Charisteas for the finish!

"What an unbelievable match!

"Swansea came back from two goals down, completed the turnaround, were equalized against, and then struck at the very last moment to kill the game!

"Who still dares to look down on these Swans from Wales?

"Swansea manager Lynn is also sprinting fifty yards to join the celebration. He has every reason to be excited. With his team two goals behind and two starting players forced off through injury, his side still completed a stubborn and magnificent comeback!

"A match and result this thrilling will leave every Swans fan beyond excited!

"The Swans will take victory away from the Britannia Stadium!"

Steve Cotterill turned and kicked a mineral water bottle flying, then smashed a fist against the roof of the dugout. He could not accept the result of being killed off by Swansea.

No one from Stoke City could accept it!

But reality was that cruel.

He also had to endure the sight of Lynn sprinting past him to celebrate!

In the stands of the Britannia Stadium, Swansea fans cheered with abandon, so excited they almost could not control themselves. Some of them even wanted to rush down from the stands and onto the pitch to celebrate with Swansea's players.

The Stoke City fans, meanwhile, were frozen like wooden statues. They did not even know what emotion they should use to face this match.

Could anyone say Stoke City had not played well enough?

If they had not played well, how could they have once led Swansea by two goals?

But now, the team were trailing 3–4!

There was no time left.

Truly none.

When Lynn walked back toward the away dugout, passing near the halfway line, fourth official Clattenburg said softly, "Your team did brilliantly."

Lynn turned his head and glanced at him, then smiled casually. "Don't think flattering my team will change my opinion of the refereeing crew."

Clattenburg also smiled and said, "Don't think saying something nice will spare you punishment. Your disrespectful comments toward the refereeing crew will still be recorded in the match report. Let's see what the FA says."

Lynn cursed disdainfully, "Fuck the FA. Screw the FA."

Clattenburg smiled. "I can pretend I didn't hear that one."

Although stoppage time had already run out, Stoke City still had to restart the match. Steve Cotterill shouted loudly from the touchline.

He waved his arms and yelled, "Get forward! All of you, get forward!"

Lynn stood calmly by the touchline. He did not need to give orders. The players themselves knew what they had to do in this situation.

Defend, of course!

After the referee blew the whistle, the match restarted.

Stoke City exchanged a few passes in the back line, then lofted the ball toward the front. Friedrich headed it clear toward the flank at the edge of the penalty area.

Tobias Rau then smashed the ball upfield with one big clearance.

At that moment, the referee blew the final whistle.

The Stoke City fans let out disappointed sighs from the stands.

The Swansea side erupted with thunderous roars!

The Swans had conquered Sky City!

Swansea's players shouted loudly on the pitch. Friedrich ripped off his shirt and sprinted toward the away supporters' stand, powerfully throwing it up into the crowd.

His teammates immediately followed his example, stripping off their shirts one after another and tossing them into the stands.

Lynn walked toward Steve Cotterill with his head high.

When Cotterill saw Lynn coming, he immediately remembered the scene before the match when Lynn had called him an "idiot." That made him so furious and embarrassed that he truly wanted to fight Lynn.

He did not throw a punch, nor did he shake Lynn's hand. Instead, he avoided Lynn and walked into the tunnel.

Lynn did not mind. He revealed a mocking smile, then stood by the touchline and waited for his disciples to leave the pitch.

Swansea's players, bare-chested, walked together toward the side of the pitch. When they arrived in front of Lynn, Lynn turned and walked toward the tunnel. The photographers by the pitch captured this shocking scene, and Lynn looked as if he were leading a group of steel warriors!

After returning to the dressing room, Lynn praised the team's performance, but at the end, he also said, "This was only one match out of a 46-round league season. We've only played seven rounds. There are still many matches waiting for us. Now is not the time to get carried away or relax. We need to keep working hard!"

After that, Lynn was more concerned about Brunel and Cromwell's injuries.

The team doctor's initial diagnosis was not optimistic. Brunel would be sidelined for two months, and Cromwell for one month.

Losing two key starters would inevitably put Swansea in a difficult position, but thinking too much about it now was useless.

At the post-match press conference, Lynn took the initiative to appear. In the interview, he publicly attacked the referee's standard of officiating.

"The refereeing standard in this match was loose one moment and strict the next. Swansea had two players injured, and then there was Stoke City's first goal. That penalty never existed! I don't know what basis the referee used for that decision. He was the one doing whatever he wanted on the pitch, and at the same time, he became the focus. Everyone understands what that means."

When the entire Swansea team sat on the bus for the return trip, Ibrahimović sat alone in the back row by the window.

At this moment, his mind was in complete chaos.

Swansea had completed a great comeback in absolute adversity. Charisteas had become the hero of the winning goal, and substitute forward Badenberg had also scored.

Ibrahimović knew his situation was dangerous!

The signs were already very obvious.

Swansea did not lack players who could score, and the outside world had almost forgotten him.

He needed matches. He needed Lynn to use him again. Otherwise, he would spend the entire season wearing out the bench!

When the team returned to Swansea, many fans who saw Swansea's bus on the road cheered for them from the roadside, gave them thumbs-up, and shouted, "Brilliant job!"

After the team was dismissed, Lynn went to check on Brunel and Cromwell again, telling both of them to recover with peace of mind.

Swansea's next match was a week later, so many players went to the nightclub together to celebrate their recent victories.

Inside 411 Nightclub, neon lights flashed and the booming music shook people so hard it felt as if their souls were trembling.

Badenberg, Pedretti, Friedrich, Grosso, James Cook, and the others sat in a booth, drinking a few glasses. There were also young, pretty girls who came up on their own to chat them up. James Cook was naturally the most popular, while Friedrich and Grosso also had no shortage of aggressive admirers. The special charm of a German and an Italian fascinated British girls.

Even Pedretti had someone chatting him up, but Robert Badenberg was ignored from start to finish.

Badenberg was full of resentment, but there was nothing he could do. He could only sit there gloomily and drink.

By the railing on the second floor, Erin stood overlooking the dance floor below. She had long since become numb to the spectacular sight of a packed crowd, even though it meant 411 Nightclub was making money hand over fist every day. Still, she could not feel happy.

Because whenever she thought about Will Taylor taking over the family business and becoming the family leader, she felt miserable.

She believed she was no less capable than Will Taylor. She only hated the fact that she had been born a woman!

Erin, who seemed isolated from the world, was the little princess of the Taylor family. Any regular customer of 411 Nightclub knew this. No one casually came up to ask her for a drink, because whether she drank depended on her mood. When she was unhappy, no one should provoke her.

Someone suddenly walked up beside Erin. She turned her head and looked over. A trace of surprise flashed through her eyes, but she quickly returned to calm.

"Erin Taylor. I'm Catherine Carter."

Catherine Carter was dressed quite delicately, wearing high heels, a short skirt, and an off-shoulder short-sleeved top. Her blonde hair fell naturally behind her head, giving her an especially mature charm.

Erin continued looking down at the dance floor on the first floor and said lightly, "I know who you are."

"Hehe, because we're love rivals?"

Carter's gaze locked onto Erin's face. In truth, when Erin was as cold as ice, the aura she gave off was extremely oppressive.

Carter had known about Erin's existence for a long time. When Welsh entertainment papers photographed Lynn and Erin at the nightclub or outside together, no one believed they were simply friends.

"Love rivals? Call it whatever you want. What exactly are you here for?"

Carter gave a self-mocking smile and said, "I want to ask you something. After things ended between Lynn and me, why didn't you start something with him?"

"Start? Start what?"

"You and he don't look like a normal couple."

Erin suddenly laughed, bright and dazzling. She turned to look at Carter and, under the other woman's puzzled expression, said playfully, "If we can already make love, do we still need to date? Besides, he and I aren't a couple. He is my lover, and I am his lover. We can't possibly get married. Being lovers is the best situation."

Carter was shocked.

In her eyes, Erin Taylor was a capable and sharp woman. She had managed the Taylor family's entertainment businesses in the Mansel District extremely well. If she wanted men, many would kneel at her feet.

Yet now, she was willingly maintaining a lover's relationship with Lynn?

Carter asked in confusion, "Why? Why be satisfied with being lovers?"

Erin looked at the woman in front of her, who was older than herself, and shook her head. "You don't understand, because you don't understand Lynn, and you don't understand Lynn's family. You don't understand his world, so how could you possibly understand the relationship between me and him? I still don't know why you came to find me today. I also don't know what happened between you and Lynn, and to me, none of it matters."

Carter revealed a bitter expression and said, "I'm unwilling to accept it."

Erin said playfully, "Unwilling? Or unable to let go? Yes, with a man like Lynn by your side, holding you in his palm like a princess, always giving you surprises, opening a brand-new door in your world and leading you into another colorful one—whether it's novelty or excitement, you become obsessed. You sink into endless enjoyment.

"So there's nothing for you to be unwilling about. You simply can't let go.

"There's nothing wrong with a man treating you like a princess. But if you also treat yourself like a princess, then what would Lynn call that? Do you know?

"Idiot."

Carter froze for a moment after hearing that. Then she laughed at herself and looked at Erin. "What will happen between you and him in the future?"

Erin withdrew her gaze and once again looked down at the dance floor below. She said lightly, "I am Erin Taylor. He is Lynn. Nothing special will happen. At most, when we're happy, we'll eat together, drink together, shop together, travel together. When we're unhappy, I'll borrow his arms and lie there for a while. Maybe one day we'll have one or two children. Life—isn't it that simple? What else do you want?"

"You don't want to marry him?"

Carter asked in surprise.

A mocking smile appeared on Erin's lips.

"I'll say it again. You don't understand Lynn, and you don't understand his family. If marriage would bring him pressure and turn something that was originally easy into something complicated, why bother? Besides, what era is this? Can't women support themselves?"

Carter seemed thoughtful after hearing this. She stood beside Erin for a while, then said goodbye and left.

Erin looked down at Carter's figure as she exited through the first-floor entrance. Suddenly, she let out a long sigh and muttered to herself with self-reproach, "Why did I tell her so much?"

Not far from 411 Nightclub was a bar, also one of the Taylor family's businesses.

Ibrahimović sat at the bar counter, drinking gloomily. He used to come here often. Many people were his fans, and they would take the initiative to greet him and say a few flattering words, which always made him laugh loudly before bragging about himself for a while.

Now?

The fans were not exactly cold toward him, but they were not as enthusiastic as before either.

From the way they looked at him, he could sense that he seemed to have become a "bad kid."

A "bad kid" who had almost become a traitor and refused to obey the manager's discipline.

He did not care how the fans saw him, but this change still left a bad taste in his mouth.

Suddenly, someone sat down beside him and said to the bartender behind the counter, "A Scotch, on the rocks."

Ibrahimović turned his head and saw the club's senior gofer, Joseph Levin. He glanced at the pale beer in front of himself and asked, "You like strong liquor?"

Looking at Joseph Levin's refined appearance, he did not seem like the type to drink heavily, let alone drink strong liquor.

Joseph Levin turned and met Ibrahimović's gaze, smiling. "I've been drinking strong liquor since I was a kid."

"Bullshit."

Ibrahimović curled his lip, not believing him at all.

Joseph Levin accepted the glass the bartender pushed over, tilted his head back, and drank a third of it. Without any change in expression, he said to Ibrahimović, "Because my father had me when he was already very old, my family often held gatherings for me. Those elders and my father's friends would always tease me with all kinds of alcohol, and in the end, I developed the habit of drinking strong liquor."

Ibrahimović still did not believe him. He nodded casually and said, "Mm-hmm, right, right. Actually, your family sells liquor, and you grew up soaking in a whisky barrel in Scotland."

Joseph Levin smiled and let it pass, not caring whether Ibrahimović believed him or not. He raised his glass and clinked it against Ibrahimović's, then drank another third of the glass. The ice had barely even had time to melt, but Joseph Levin was already asking for another drink.

Seeing that Joseph Levin looked completely unaffected, Ibrahimović did start to believe, deep down, that Joseph Levin could hold his alcohol.

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