When Ferguson saw Keane get past George Wood by changing directions and shooting the ball into Forest's gates, he dashed down excitedly from the technical area with his arms raised. This was exactly the moment he had been waiting for; the moment of celebration!

Meanwhile, Tang En plopped back onto his seat and cursed under his breath. "Dammit…"

He was not cursing at George Wood. He was only expressing his disappointment in losing a ball.

In the five minutes without Wood, the Forest team, now a player down, managed to defend against the tidal wave of attacks coming from Manchester United. As he watched the players' performance, Tang En's confidence filled to the brim. Yet, when Wood returned to the field and evened the player numbers with Manchester United, they actually lost a ball!

Just behind the technical area was Old Trafford's spectators' stand. The cheers from the fans of the Red Devils swept across Tang En, ruffling his hair and his mood.

"Tony, should we do anything?" Assistant manager Kerslake came forward to ask.

Tang En shook his head. "No. 20 minutes in is too early to make adjustments… In our plans, we didn't say that we would forbid Manchester United from scoring any goals. But it is a pity…"

A pity for the draw that had lasted for 20 minutes.

※※※

Keane was clustered in a hug by his teammates, basking fully in a moment of glory that belonged to him. And what of George Wood?

Alone, Wood stood up from the ground. Surrounding him were the Manchester players who were celebrating the goal. In the sea of red, wearing the yellow jersey of Forest as the away team, he seemed out of his element.

Wood's gaze swept across the faces of the celebrating players from Manchester and landed on Keane.

First was a kick that caused him to suffer a nosebleed. And now, Keane had scored a goal right before his eyes.

Roy Keane… I don't care if I'm supposed to be aiming for you! Right now, you're my enemy! I won't allow you to be so gleeful in front of me!

Keane cared nothing for what the loser thought; in fact, he had not even once turned around to look at Wood's darkened expression.

※※※

"Manchester United takes the lead. After 20 minutes of resistance from Nottingham Forest, they finally take a point. Roy Keane's performance today is fantastic; even better than his previous matches… let's guess, is this because he is excited about his opponents for this match, Nottingham Forest?"

A cool-faced Roy Keane appeared on the screen, making the commentator's remark about his "excitement" seem wildly inaccurate. However, in reality, Keane was indeed excited about the match.

Ferguson, who was outside the field, could see this clearly. The match had only progressed to its 20th minute, but Keane had already taken two shots at the goal. He seemed very keen on scoring.

The Scot did not bother considering the reason for Keane's excitement. All he knew was that the team was benefiting from it. The match had just become much easier with a goal in the bag, and with them playing on their home ground.

Nottingham Forest was not a weak team. He could tell from the list of strong teams that had gotten in trouble with them: Chelsea, Arsenal, Newcastle… Manchester United could not be as useless as Arsenal, their arch-rivals.

Ferguson felt pity each time he saw Piqué playing as Nottingham Forest's center back. He could not believe that Twain had stolen such an outstanding young center back. And now he had even become their opponent!

Thinking of this, Ferguson became furious. He glanced at the manager's seat beside theirs. The young manager overseeing Forest was seated in his place with his eyes fixed on the field, appearing to be in some sort of discussion with his assistant manager.

Ferguson suddenly remembered something as he watched them. He turned to ask his assistant, the Portuguese man Queiroz. "Carlos, do you still remember the newspapers you were reading yesterday?"

Queiroz nodded, "Of course, Boss."

"Tell me, do you think the Forest team you see on the field is a team full of conflict, a team that could fall to pieces at a moment's notice?"

Queiroz shook his head. "No. I don't see any signs of that, Boss."

Ferguson simply made an indistinct sound in reply.

Although the stories in the newspapers were full of fabrication, Ferguson thought that the reporters could have been onto something. There must have been an issue internally with Nottingham Forest… it could be something huge or tiny.

If that was the case, their streak of losses could help them in uncovering these problems.

※※※

Cristiano Ronaldo was the golden boy of Portugal; with expertise in dribbling, his footwork was exceptional. In the current football scene, he was one of the few players who could seemingly perform magic with his feet.

In addition to that was his handsome appearance. He had won the hearts of countless football fans the moment he had come to Old Trafford. Wearing jersey number seven left behind by Beckham, he ran back and forth on both sides of the field, putting to use his dazzling techniques to break through his opponents and earn cheers in The Theatre of Dreams. On the spectators' stand on the north side, there was a banner that would appear in every home match:

There is only one Ronaldo!

Meanwhile, Franck Ribéry was only considered an "old rookie." Unlike Ronaldo, who had a secured position both in Portugal's National Football Team and Manchester United, Ribéry was only a main player with Nottingham Forest. The summon from the French National Football Team was just a start for him.

Ribéry was pushed back into the backfield by Cristiano Ronaldo. He could not have helped in the offense even if he wanted to. Along with him, another player being suppressed was the left back Leighton Baines.

The Frenchman admitted that his opponent was good; incredibly good. He did not dare to give an inch of slack when he was facing off against Ronaldo. Just a second of carelessness would allow Ronaldo to break through with his dribble and directly threaten the area behind them.

He needed support from somewhere, just not the left back Leighton Baines. Baines still had to carefully pull Rooney, who had come to the wings to coordinate with Ronaldo, away. Both Ronaldo and Rooney were exceptionally brilliant youths from their respective countries.

This was how rich and powerful teams were; they could easily put together the best youths of each nation.

But Forest also had the best.

Cristiano Ronaldo felt a little contempt for the Scarface before him. Regardless of fame, technique, achievements, or looks, this man was a long-shot away from him.

Manchester United, who was leading, played in a relaxed manner. This included Ronaldo. He stopped the ball less than three meters before Ribéry and began to execute stepovers. His speed was incredible, and both of his feet flew over the ball in a flurry. However, he did not try to make a break in any direction. It was merely a fake out.

Ribéry was taken in by the opponent's speedy movements and took a step backward. But Ronaldo did not make a breakthrough with the ball. Instead, he stood where he was and smiled at him.

This was clearly not a kind smile. Since he was young, Ribéry had been faced with this expression from numerous people. At times it was because of his looks; other times because he was poor. He knew exactly what the expression meant. It was a mocking smile.

Bloody hell! This Portuguese lad is looking down on me!

This is not just a football match anymore! This is a bloody war! I am going to make you pay, you piece of s**t!

Ronaldo started a step over again. This time he slightly nudged the ball outward, and Ribéry surged forward. Seeing him move, Ronaldo used his right heel and knocked it back inwards behind him, planning to break through from behind Ribéry.

Ribéry was not a clumsy center back; his turning speed was not at all slow. Ronaldo had just spun around when Ribéry turned in the same direction to block his path forward. But Ronaldo's reflexes were even quicker. With a glimpse of his shadow, Ronaldo immediately realized what had happened. This time, he swiped backward with his left heel and nudged the ball back to his right side.

With his center of gravity still in the midst of adjusting, Ribéry had nothing left up his sleeve. He could only watch as the opponent who had mocked him dribbled past him from his side and broke through with a swagger.

"Ronaldo passes to the center!"

Nistelrooy jumped up to attack the goal with a header but was beaten to it by Piqué. After training with Hierro for the competition, the improvement in Piqué was as apparent as in George Wood.

Although Piqué had managed to head the ball away, he could not get it too far under Nistelrooy's disruption.

Roy Keane dashed forward again. The commentator was right. The Keane of today was truly excited. Based on his previous matches, it was rather unusual for him to stick so closely to the penalty area.

George Wood gave Keane a glare as he noticed him rushing forward. You want to go at it again?

"Roy Keane has arrived once more! Ah… George Wood!"

Taking the risk of having Keane's shoes slam into his face, Wood jumped up in front of Keane and headed the ball. Keane's leg was already in motion, but he suddenly saw a dark shadow come into view and the ball disappeared.

Keane did not continue his motion of shooting at the goal but also did not withdraw his foot. After Wood headed the ball out, Keane conveniently gave Wood's arm a kick. As if nothing had happened, Wood dashed off immediately after landing. The ball was still within the danger zone, and Gary Neville was running towards it.

Young George Wood was clearly faster than Gary Neville. He managed to reach before Neville and kicked the ball towards the front. This was a great chance for Forest Team to launch a counterattack, but the referee's whistle sounded.

Eastwood, who had just run out, heard the whistle and gestured helplessly with his hands. He did not understand where the problem was.

Tang En ran to the sidelines from the technical area, loudly complaining the ridiculousness of the judgment. "Advantage clause! The Advantage clause! Dammit!"