159: The heavy artillery of the "iron lung"

On the afternoon of October 20th, Victoria Park stadium was bathed in the warm autumn sun, which slanted across the stands, painting every inch of the pitch golden.

Over thirty thousand Hartlepool United fans in the stadium were already in a frenzy, their songs merging into an ocean of sound that vibrated through the entire small town.

The moment Jordan Henderson received the back-heel pass from Sigurdsson, time seemed to stand still.

A brief but wide vacuum corridor appeared in front of him, as Luton's defenders were still turning their bodies, attempting to reorganize their defense.

There was no hesitation.

Henderson met the rolling ball, his right ankle joint instantly tensed, and the power of his entire body transferred from his core to his toes.

The shot was powerful and heavy, and the ball left the grass with terrifying speed and spin.

"Oh my! Henderson—"

Before the commentator could raise his voice, the ball had already ripped through the net! It was as fast as lightning, making all the defenders' movements seem like futile slow motion.

Luton's goalkeeper's pupils instantly dilated.

His body instinctively made a save, but his legs had barely left the grass when the ball had already found the bottom right corner of the goal.

The net vibrated violently, making a crisp impact sound.

One-nil!

Victoria Park stadium utterly exploded at this moment.

Over thirty thousand fans simultaneously leaped from their seats, deafening shouts piercing the sky, and the entire stand trembled violently.

Henderson was completely out of control with excitement; he spread his arms and charged towards the corner flag, his face filled with unbelievable ecstasy.

Jamie Vardy was the first to catch him, hugging his waist tightly from behind.

Sigurdsson, Maloney, Walker... one after another, teammates surged forward, surrounding Henderson.

"Jordan! You madman!"

Vardy roared in his ear, his voice completely hoarse.

"I knew it! I knew you could score!"

Henderson's eyes were already moist; at this moment, the twenty-one-year-old tasted the purest joy that football could bring.

Sigurdsson's flash of brilliance, combined with Henderson's violent aesthetic, created this goal that was worthy of being etched in history.

Three seconds, just three seconds, and Hartlepool United, with a brilliant one-two, tore a fatal hole in Luton's impregnable defense.

In the executive box, Lin Feng put down his teacup, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"System prompt: Goal quality rating A+, team coordination 98%, individual technical performance 95%"

He took out his phone and sent a short message to Old John: "Keep this rhythm, don't give them a chance to breathe."

The situation on the field fundamentally changed after this goal.

Luton's previously somewhat intact defense instantly crumbled.

Their stamina was already pushed to the limit, and their mental fortitude completely collapsed under this heavy blow.

In the 75th minute, Luton's center-back was clearly struggling in a challenge with Vardy, his steps heavy as if filled with lead.

Vardy keenly seized this opportunity.

He dropped back to receive the ball, then suddenly accelerated, using his speed advantage to bypass the entire opposing backline.

"Jamie Vardy! He's at it again!"

The commentator's voice became excited once more.

One-on-one!

Facing the onrushing goalkeeper, Vardy displayed a calmness beyond his years.

He chose not to shoot with power, but instead gently pushed the ball into the far corner.

The ball rolled along the grass into the goal, the goalkeeper's fingertips just a few centimeters from the ball.

Two-nil!

Vardy sprinted to the stands, performing his signature celebration.

He spread his arms, looked up to the sky, and roared, releasing all his inner passion.

The fans in the stands were completely wild, red scarves flying in the air, forming a spectacular ocean.

"Eleven consecutive wins! Eleven consecutive wins!"

Earth-shattering shouts echoed throughout the stadium.

The match had completely lost its suspense, but Hartlepool United's performance was not yet over.

In the 85th minute, Lin Feng substituted Shaun Maloney, who had expended a lot of energy, with Tom Ince.

This substitution immediately had an effect.

Ince's first touch after coming on showed extremely high tactical awareness.

He received a pass from Walker on the wing and, instead of forcing a breakthrough, he quickly assessed the situation in the penalty area.

Shaun Maloney was battling for position with the opposing center-back, but Luton's defenders were clearly exhausted.

Ince deftly lofted the ball to the far post of the penalty area.

Maloney leaped high, completing a beautiful header in the air.

The ball arced into the top left corner of the goal.

Three-nil!

At this moment, the frenzy at Victoria Park reached its peak.

The fans had already begun to celebrate the victory in advance; they knew that the team's eleventh consecutive win was firmly secured.

Luton's players completely gave up resistance.

Some of them sat on the grass, panting heavily, while others stared blankly at the scoreboard, unable to accept reality.

Before the match, they had vowed to defend their dignity with blood, but now they had suffered a crushing defeat.

The final whistle blew.

Hartlepool United defeated Luton 3-0 at home, securing their eleventh consecutive League win!

They were just two matches away from equaling the League One consecutive win record.

The players celebrated wildly on the field; they lifted Old John high, tossing him into the air repeatedly.

Old John's face was filled with happiness and pride; this old coach, who had experienced countless setbacks, finally tasted the sweetness of success.

"We did it! We really did it!"

His voice trembled with emotion.

The fans in the stands were reluctant to leave.

They waved scarves and banners, their songs rising in waves.

"Hartlepool! Hartlepool! We are champions!"

The entire small town was immersed in an ocean of celebration.

In pubs, shops, and on the streets, there were crowds of people celebrating everywhere.

People hugged each other, high-fived, sharing this hard-won joy.

At the post-match press conference, reporters from major media outlets surrounded Old John.

A Daily Mail reporter was the first to ask: "Coach John, what does this victory mean for the team?"

"It means we are one step closer to our dream."

Old John's answer was concise and powerful.

"They are different from other teams. Other teams do well when things are smooth, and so do they. But when they're in a quagmire, only they can find a way, a killer blow."

The Guardian reporter added.

"Your patience and ability to break down compact defenses are impressive."

Old John nodded.

"This is thanks to our owner's tactical guidance and the players' perfect execution."

"We knew the opponent would set up a 'park the bus' defense, but we have enough weapons to break any defensive line."

At the other end of the conference room, Luton's head coach, with a grim expression, was giving an interview.

"I am proud of the players; they gave it their all."

His voice was a little hoarse.

"But Hartlepool United is indeed much stronger than us; they deserve this victory."

Meanwhile, Lin Feng was in his office receiving a report from Richard Arnold.

"Boss, after today's match, I counted the number of scouts who attended."

Richard's expression was somewhat serious.

"Thirteen in total, from five Premier League clubs: Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal, Liverpool, and Tottenham."

"Their attention was mainly focused on Vardy, Henderson, and Walker."

Lin Feng put down the documents in his hand, his brows slightly furrowed.

"It seems the winning streak has completely exposed our prodigies to the spotlight."

Rumors about Hartlepool United players in the transfer market were indeed intensifying.

Major sports media outlets were frantically speculating, linking every key player to a big club.

The Sun even used the headline "Prodigy Factory About to Be Divided Up?"

"The battle to defend our players in the winter transfer window has already begun."

Lin Feng stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

The Sun was setting, and the entire town of Hartlepool was enveloped in a golden glow.

The sound of a ship's horn came from the distant harbor; fishing boats were returning.

This once-dilapidated industrial town was now revitalized by football.

"Richard, have the scouting department submit the final evaluation reports on Lallana and Clyne."

Lin Feng did not turn around, his tone calm and firm.

"Since someone wants to poach our players, we will first strengthen our own squad."

"There will be no upper limit on the budget for winter transfer signings. I want those big clubs to know that taking any player from us will come at a huge cost."

Richard nodded forcefully.

"I'll arrange it immediately, Boss."

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the office door.