514 Kill

Twain was woken up by someone, which was a treatment he had not enjoyed for a long time.

While he was having a sweet dream and nestled within a warm bad, his blanket was suddenly lifted up and someone shouted in his ear. "Get up!"

He blinked open sleepy eyes. When he hazily saw the person standing by the bed was Shania, he was suddenly wide awake. He only wore a pair of underwear while he slept.

"Hey!" He sat up and covered his body with the blanket.

Shania had a good laugh next to him. "Uncle Tony is still in good shape. Would you like me to introduce you to modeling?"

Twain glared at her, "Why are you here? You weren't here last night."

"I came here this morning to make breakfast for you. Get up!" Shania waved her hand, and Twain saw a wooden spatula in her hand.

"You know how to cook?" Twain honestly had never seen Shania in the kitchen. He was skeptical that this girl who lived in a wealthy household could do housework.

"You'll find out when you try it." The curtains were blown opened by a gust of wind, and the sun spilled on Shania's face.

Twain became even more alarmed.

He reached for his trousers and muttered, "we'd better head out to eat..." When he looked up to see that Shania had no intention of leaving, he pointed to his pants in his hands and asked, "do you intend to watch me get dressed?"

Shania pouted and ran out.

Twain jumped out of bed. Wearing only a pair of underwear, he stood by the window and gazed at the sunny morning outside. He thought everything was wonderful.

Shania had inexplicably become his tenant again and lived with him under one roof. Most of the time, there were only the two of them in the house.

He shook his head with a wry smile and began to get dressed.

After he washed up in the upstairs bathroom, Twain went downstairs and saw that two table settings had been placed on the table in the dining room, along with plates of bacon and fried eggs, glasses of juice, and an apple.

It looked presentable.

But!

Just like a mushroom, the brighter its appearance, the greater its toxicity.

Shania had sat opposite him and looked at him with a grin.

He really wanted to propose that they could just head out for breakfast together and do some shopping. All girls like to shop, right? But seeing the smile on Shania's face, he swallowed his words.

Twain still hesitated. Shania leaned over to cut the bacon for him and smear some peanut butter on it. She pushed it back towards him with a smile. "Try it, Uncle Twain!"

"Uh, Shania… Actually, you can wait for Uncle Tony to make breakfast for you. You don't have to go through all that trouble… to make breakfast for me... " Twain made his final attempt.

"It's not the same. I'd like to personally make breakfast for Uncle Tony." Shania propped her chin up with her hands, tilted her head, and looked at Twain.

Twain sighed, speared a piece of bacon with his fork, and put it into his mouth. It just tastes a little awful, that's all! I just have to try!

He misjudged. It was not a little unpalatable, it tasted terrible. He could clearly tell the kind of home environment that Shania grew up in. She had never touched these kind of household chores.

His first impulse was to spit out what was formerly known as "food," but when he looked up to see Shania's look of anticipation and heard her eagerly ask "How is it? Is it okay?", he changed his mind.

He did not dare to continue to chew and swallowed it with much difficulty. Then Twain said to Shania with a smiling face. "Not bad!"

He forced himself to eat the breakfast and not leave a scrap behind.

It was the first day after the league tournament and the team was on a break. Twain was able to have a good night's sleep but did not expect to have to eat such a meal. Watching Shania's back as she hummed a song and put away the tableware, Twain suffered in silence.

While they cleaned up after breakfast, there was a knock at the door. Twain was going to open the door himself, but Shania had already skipped over. Dunn, who stood outside, looked a little surprised to see Shania.

"Good morning, Dunn!" Shania, who was in a good mood, greeted him enthusiastically.

"Ah, good morning, Shania." Dunn entered and saw Twain, standing in the living room, smiling bitterly at him.

He understood it well.

"I've tidied up the video of yesterday's game against Wigan Athletic." He held up the videotape in his hand.

"Put it on the table." It was clear that they could not study the game video.

After Dunn put the tape down, he turned to leaved. Even though Twain was keen to keep him, he was adamant. "It just occurred to me that I have something else to do, so I have to go. Goodbye, Shania."

Shania waved. "Bye, Dunn."

After the door was closed behind Dunn, only Twain and Shania were left in the house.

They suddenly quieted down, and the atmosphere was a little awkward.

Twain picked up the tape on the table and fiddled with it. He wondered what to say and do next.

"Uh, Shania, is there anywhere fun you want to go?"

"What's fun to do in Nottingham?"

"There are the castles, the place where Robin Hood once fought..."

"It doesn't sound interesting." Shania pouted.

"Uh." Twain knew that these things were not that interesting. He and Shania were not the kind of people who liked to travel around and see the sights.

"I don't want to go anywhere." Shania shook her head. "I'm not here to tour Nottingham. I'm here to see Uncle Tony. We don't need to go anywhere."

Twain was stunned by Shania's remark.

When someone traveled to an unfamiliar city to visit their old friend whom they had not been seen in many years, the old friend would warmly arrange an itinerary for the guest, such as visiting a certain scenic spot one day, a certain landscape the next and a certain shopping street the day after… But the visitor just shook her head and said, "I came to see you, not to see the sights."

As he thought of this, Twain smiled. "Oh, my life is very boring..."

"I don't care." Shania sat down on the couch, "You can do whatever you want, don't mind me. I'll be fine here." With that, Shania opened a magazine and flipped through it.

Twain looked at the young girl and said nothing.

He knew that there would be more of these days in the future. It was clear that this would be Shania's long-term base of residence.

All right, all right, just let her be as long as she pleases.

※※※

Twain was still somewhat worried about letting Shania live in his home. Although there were no reporters lying in ambush around his house, who could guarantee that a reporter passing by would not see the world-famous model going in and out of the Nottingham Forest manager's house?

The good thing was everything was peaceful these days. Shania also made good preparations and did not let the media discover any faults.

Only Dunn looked at Twain with a strange expression in his eyes. Twain couldn't care less what Dunn thought — It would not be a good thing anyway.

Other than the pretty tenant at home, Twain's life and work were normal. He led his team in training, prepared for games, and dealt with the media on occasion. Of course now, in the face of the media, he was a little nervous, for fear that the omnipotent paparazzi would suddenly ask him questions about Shania's appearance in his house.

In fact, Twain was overly concerned.

Shania was usually very busy with work. She did not spend much time in Nottingham during a week, much less at Twain's house. Most of the time she needed to be in London, Paris, Milan or Madrid. She even worked in the United States.

If she was not in Nottingham, then Twain would receive daily text messages from Shania. Whenever she landed somewhere, she would take a lot of pictures of where she was and send them to Twain.

Thanks to modern technology and methods of communication, even two people thousands of miles apart could still chat face-to-face.

Obviously, these were the small adjustments in life. Work was still most important. Shania was hard at work, and so was Twain.

After the away win over Barcelona and the 2:2 away draw with Wigan Athletic in the 28th round of the league tournament, the Forest team had another away victory over Newcastle United on March 3rd.

A draw and a win were considered good results.

Next was another Champions League round of 16 match. This time it was on Nottingham Forest's home ground and their opponent was Barcelona.

Having won two away goals and beaten Barcelona at Camp Nou, Nottingham Forest's morale was strong. Barcelona's trip to England boded ill.

※※※

Before the game, there was a brief press conference attended by both managers, which was to announce the preparations both teams had done for this game. The media had already plugged the results of the last game, so there was nothing interesting. The real show would be after the game.

During the interview, Twain spoke highly of Barcelona and acknowledged that they were superb and played gorgeously. He stated that they were representative of the art of football in today's football world, as was tradition at Barcelona. He paid tribute to the Barcelona club, which had always adhered to this tradition. Because in increasingly utilitarian professional football, it was not easy to stick to the art of football. The price was likely to be a few years without a championship title in a row.

These words surprised both the media and Rijkaard.

Was Tony Twain abducted by aliens? How did he suddenly change?

Rijkaard deeply considered this issue. He suspected that this was Twain throwing a smoke bomb. He deliberately praised his opponent to make the opponent relax their guard. He knew Twain was a very cunning man. The more he praised the team, the more cautious he had to be.

Just as Rijkaard decided to be wary of Twain, Twain finished praising Barcelona. He said to the media, "You see, Barcelona is so great, like the aristocrats who have inherited their titles for generations, looking grand and gorgeous, talking about art and literature every day. They are well-dressed and have countless honors that are unimaginable to other people. Is there any objection to my analogy?"

Nobody shook their head and nobody questioned it. Twain's analogy was quite suitable, and compared to most "civilian" teams, Barcelona was "noble."

Twain was glad at everyone's response. He turned his head and looked at Rijkaard, who was still confused, and smiled. "And our Nottingham Forest… compared to Barcelona, is much scruffier. We're not some kind of aristocrat, we're just a bunch of Robin Hoods."

As soon as he said this, the reporters who were quick on the uptake laughed at once. At first, everyone wondered why Twain would deliberately compliment Barcelona. Was it to deliberately show weakness to make the other party relax its vigilance? Now the answer was revealed.

What did Robin Hood do? He was dedicated to stealing from the aristocrats.

Twain was not showing weakness. This was clearly a provocation and a threat.

Rijkaard was not an idiot. He was aware of Robin Hood. Most of the reporters at the press conference were tickled by Twain's remarks, even if those who did not react at first, also laughed after they listened to the explanation. The Dutchman felt humiliated.

After the disruption from Twain, there was nothing else to do at the press conference. Rijkaard and Twain parted in discord. They would settle the feud on the field.

Twain was not going to let him get what he wanted.

Advancing to the Champions League final this season was his minimum requirement and he would not allow Barcelona to become his stumbling block.

If they are a stumbling block, then I'll kick them off!

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The next day at the City Ground, the stadium sat the highest number of spectators since it had been remodeled after the 1996 UEFA European Championship. The stadium, which could accommodate up to 30,000 people, was full. There were still countless fans lingering outside in the square. They did not want to leave, hoping to wait until there was a cancelled ticket.

When Platini drew this opponent, the Forest fans collectively looked forward to the match. They wanted to give Barcelona one of the grandest "welcomes" at home. They wanted to make the Barcelona players remember the atmosphere of this game for years to come.

Fat John stood in the front row of the grandstand and turned around to holler at the diehard fans — it actually sounded more like howling — and yelled, "guys, this is our chance! Two weeks ago, these Barcelona scumbags pressed on us on their turf because they had more people. It is time for our revenge! We'll show them the tradition of our English fans! Let these people see who the real fans are!"

"Sing louder, don't stop!"

"Shout our chant, don't let the voices of those Barcelona people drown us!"

The atmosphere at the scene was brought up by the fans in the stands and it became louder and more widespread. From one stand to the entire stadium, all the Nottingham Forest people sang loudly and shouted their chant. The game had not yet begun, and they had already made the Barcelona players fully feel the away game.

They could not hear the cries from their own fans or see them. There was only a sea of red as far as the eye could see, like a bloody sea with furious waves slamming against the railings on the stands. It appeared as if they would break through the obstruction and come pouring down to turn the green field into a red ocean.

Camp Nou was a supersized stadium that could accommodate up to 90,000 people. With 90,000 people shouting in unison, the momentum was admittedly powerful. But the smaller City Ground stadium had its advantages. The narrow space shortened the distance between the players and the fans. Their every abuse and song sounded as if they were in their ears. It not only hit these people's ears, but also struck their hearts.

They also needed to shout even if they were talking face to face, otherwise they could hear clearly at all. They had never seen this situation even at the home of their nemesis, Real Madrid.

It was said that the atmosphere in a stadium with the English fans was feverish and indeed it was worthy of its reputation...

However, now was not the time to exclaim about this.

Twain stood on the sidelines and was pleased with the home atmosphere. It was said that the fans were the 12th player on the field and the fans who gave this performance truly deserved it. He was grateful that God had given himself such a group of loyal fans that would give him a nudge at such a critical moment.

He suddenly felt like he was a general, commanding a magnificent army with thousands of men and horses, destroying a powerful enemy and capturing territory. The men gathered with a wave of his hands.

—Your Majesty, kill, don't kill!

—Your Majesty, kill, don't kill! Kill, don't kill!

—Kill, don't kill! Kill, don't kill!! Kill, don't kill!!!

Twain reached out his right hand and yanked.

"Kill!"