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Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 158: Guardiola in Meltdown—Is Barça in Trouble? · Nov 11, 2026

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Chapter List (401)

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151 Chapter 151: You Were Given the Chance, and You Blew It! 2026-11-11
152 Chapter 152: Dortmund Should Be Thanking Us, and Ajax Owes Man City a Bow Next Match 2026-11-11
153 Chapter 153: So I Heard Atlético Wants to Rise Up? 2026-11-11
154 Chapter 154: Good Thing These Two Aren’t on the Same Team—La Liga Would Be a Nightmare 2026-11-11
155 Chapter 155: With Pintus on Our Side, Attrition Battles Are Real Madrid’s Home Turf 2026-11-11
156 Chapter 156: The Champions League Round of 16 Is Set—Real Madrid Sets Sights on a Sixth Title 2026-11-11
157 Chapter 157: “Light of Asia” Sparks Idol Frenzy in East Asia 2026-11-11
158 Chapter 158: Guardiola in Meltdown—Is Barça in Trouble? 2026-11-11
159 Chapter 159: Kid, If You Go to Barça, I’ll Just Keep Beating You 2026-11-11
160 Chapter 160: Alright, I Admit It—Li Ang Does Want the Ballon d’Or 2026-11-11
161 Chapter 161: Triple-Front War or Cautious Double-Line Focus? 2026-11-11
162 Chapter 162: One Path Up Mount Hua—All In for a Double Title Defense 2026-11-11
163 Chapter 163: You Mock Arsenal for Their Top-Four Obsession, but They’re Really Not That Weak 2026-11-11
164 Chapter 164: Wenger: Who Wouldn’t Want to Sign Li Ang? 2026-11-11
165 Chapter 165: Playing Against Technical Teams? That’s What We Do Best 2026-11-11
166 Chapter 166: Their Will Is Shattered—Arsenal’s Dao Heart Has Collapsed! 2026-11-11
167 Chapter 167 - 189: Offensive Talent Skyrockets — The Giants Are Drooling Over Leon 2026-11-11
168 Chapter 168 - 167: A Burned-Out Barça Falls in the Second Half of the Season 2026-11-11
169 Chapter 169 - 168: El Clásico IV—A Slumping Barça Meets a Red-Hot Madrid 2026-11-11
170 Chapter 170 - 169: Farewell, Barça! Madrid’s Real Target—Wipe Out the Premier League! 2026-11-11
171 Chapter 171 - 170: We Said We’d Crush Your Midfield—and We Meant It 2026-11-11
172 Chapter 172 - 171: Three Champions League Games—Li Ang Proves His Worth Completely 2026-11-11
173 Chapter 173 - 172: Time to Calculate When Madrid Can Clinch the Title Early 2026-11-11
174 Chapter 174 - 173: All-In—Madrid Is Going All-In for the Title! 2026-11-11
175 Chapter 175 - 174: Fat Tiger’s First Appearance for Madrid, Li Ang: “That’s My Brother.” 2026-11-11
176 Chapter 176 - 175: Dortmund’s Twin Engines Useless Before Li Ang 2026-11-11
177 Chapter 177 - 175: Dortmund’s Twin Engines Don’t Work Against Li Ang 2026-11-11
178 Chapter 178 - 175: Dortmund’s Twin Engines Are Useless Against Li Ang 2026-11-11
179 Chapter 179 - 176: A Midfielder Can’t Just Drift with the Game — Total Domination in Attack and Defense, That’s the Core Shield! 2026-11-11
180 Chapter 180 - 177: Shameless but Effective Tactics — Real Madrid’s All-Out Bombardment Squad 2026-11-11
181 Chapter 181 - 178: Give Me Leon, and Real Madrid Loses 2026-11-11
182 Chapter 182 - 180: The First All-German Derby in a Champions League Final 2026-11-11
183 Chapter 183 - 181: After This Makeup Match, We’re Having Our Championship Celebration Banquet 2026-11-11
184 Chapter 184 - 182: Championship Night! If You Want to Keep Climbing, You Need to Learn to Be More Selfish 2026-11-11
185 Chapter 185 - 183: Before We Drift Apart, Let’s Build the Mourinho-Era Madrid Dynasty 2026-11-11
186 Chapter 186 - 184: The Most Star-Studded Champions League Final in Nearly Two Decades 2026-11-11
187 Chapter 187 - 185: Can You Guess If I’m a Bluff or the Trump Card? 2026-11-11
188 Chapter 188 - 186: Robbery + Müller + a Classic Target Man — This Is Peak Bayern 2026-11-11
189 Chapter 189 - 187: We Are the Legend — Long Live Mourinho’s Real Madrid! 2026-11-11
190 Chapter 190 - 188: I Don’t Want Money, Sir — I Want to Be the Leader 2026-11-11
191 Chapter 191 - 189: Offensive Talent Skyrockets — The Giants Are Drooling Over Leon 2026-11-11
192 Chapter 192 - 190: The End of Mourinho’s Madrid — Leon and the Battle of Six Giants 2026-11-11
193 Chapter 193 - 191: We Are Chelsea Now—The New Kings of London! 2026-11-11
194 Chapter 194 - 192: Huge Potential, Plenty of Questions—But Mourinho’s Ready to Unleash a Youth Storm! 2026-11-11
195 Chapter 195 - 193: A Brother’s Call and Zlatan Lands at the Bridge! 2026-11-11
196 Chapter 196 - 194: A System? Leon Is the System, Offense and Defense Alike 2026-11-11
197 Chapter 197 - 195: The Calm Little Lion and the Beast Zlatan 2026-11-11
198 Chapter 198 - 196: Guardiola vs. Mourinho Returns to the Premier League! Matić Closes the Summer Transfer Window 2026-11-11
199 Chapter 199 - 197: Creating a Goal from Kickoff—Little Lion, Are You Actually Going All-In?! 2026-11-11
200 Chapter 200 - 198: From Unpredictable Enigma to Super-Sub? Watch My Belgian Mini-Tank Explode! 2026-11-11

December 16th, 2012, marked the grand finale of the footballing year.

Calling this the ”Year of Real Madrid” would not be an exaggeration in the slightest.

With six major trophies under their belt, every Real Madrid player could rightfully call themselves a winner in life.

For players like Alonso, Ramos, Casillas, and Arbeloa—key members of both Madrid and the Spanish national team—it was perhaps the most complete, fulfilling year of their entire careers.

Every competition they participated in, be it club or international, ended with a title.

It was, undeniably, their personal peak.

But in East Asia, Li Ang was the one commanding all the attention from fans and media alike.

If Park Ji-sung once set the bar for Asian players in Europe, proving they could succeed on the continent’s biggest stages, then Li Ang had now completely smashed that ceiling.

A sextuple in a single calendar year—as a starter, no less, and a key player in multiple finals.

That wasn’t just extraordinary—it was historic.

Asian sports media across the board agreed: there was no need to wait until Li Ang’s retirement to compare him with Asia’s footballing legends.

Cha Bum-kun, Park Ji-sung, Hidetoshi Nakata—they’d been surpassed.

After this sextuple, comparisons were obsolete.

Li Ang was now Asia’s undisputed number one.

No filler appearances, no riding the bench.

Real contributions, real trophies—every accolade fully earned.

Even South Korean media, usually guarded, didn’t challenge his status as Asia’s current top player.

Their only attempt to save face was pointing out that Cha Bum-kun and Park Ji-sung still had the edge in career goals and total trophies—for now.

But before Chinese outlets could even clap back, Japanese media had already responded.

”What’s wrong with just admitting the facts? Or does Korean media truly believe Li Ang won’t surpass Park Ji-sung’s career trophy count at Real Madrid?

And comparing a midfielder’s goal tally to a forward’s? That’s as disingenuous as it gets.”

Naturally, such remarks sparked another online war between Korean and Japanese fans, leaving Chinese media somewhat baffled.

”Wait a second... He’s our player. Why are you two arguing?”

So while Japan and Korea went at it, China’s media happily focused on praising Li Ang.

Champions League final: goal and assist.

Copa del Rey final: first to step up in penalties—scored calmly.

UEFA Super Cup: second-leg goal.

Club World Cup: scored in both matches.

You’d be hard-pressed to find any flaw in that résumé.

Li Ang’s consistent brilliance in big games earned him the nickname ”Mr. Big Game.”

And the name was well-deserved.

He was someone you could justifiably hype up.

For football purists and tacticians, his two-way impact—defensive anchoring and reliable passing—made him irreplaceable.

His incredible work rate and availability alone were enough to make him essential.

For newer fans and ”stat-chasers,” it was even easier.

Big games? Goals.

Key moments? Assists.

Heroic numbers? Delivered.

Fans love clutch players.

Li Ang, who preferred team victories and group cohesion, didn’t focus on stats.

But fans and media didn’t care.

They loved comparing individuals.

They wanted narrative.

So they crowned him a hero—the hero.

By the time he left Japan, Li Ang had already experienced the full brunt of that adoration.

Before the glow of Madrid’s sixth title could even fade, he had to face the fans who had fallen head over heels for him during the tournament.

At a short fan meet-and-greet held with Cristiano Ronaldo, the two were easily the most popular players in attendance.

Photos, signatures, hugs—the whole nine yards.

Li Ang handled it professionally, following club protocol.

But go above and beyond? Smile more? Act extra friendly?

Not likely.

If this event had been in China? Sure. He’d have stayed four hours if needed.

But here? Japanese fans were getting politeness—and that was enough.

No hard feelings.

He wasn’t here for business, endorsements, or marketing.

No need to pretend.

He didn’t bother with a few basic phrases of Japanese like some teammates had.

The club’s international PR staff noticed and didn’t push him, respectful of his comfort.

Ironically, Japanese media and fans still gave him glowing reviews—calling him ”polite and well-mannered.”

After one final meal in Japan on the afternoon of the 17th, the squad boarded their flight back to Madrid.

Another 12-hour haul.

By the time they landed, most players were fighting off sleep.

But it was still only 4 p.m. local time in Madrid—sunny and bright, even in winter.

Hundreds of fans were waiting at the airport.

After a brief celebration—trophy raised, chants sung—they boarded buses for Cibeles Square.

Waiting on the buses?

The other five trophies.

Seeing them all together brought huge smiles to every player’s face.

It wasn’t an end-of-season celebration, so the setup was modest.

A single elevated stage.

Thousands of fans.

Dozens of flashing cameras.

Madrid’s first-team players walked out to roaring cheers, followed by Mourinho, Karanka, Rui Faria, and fitness coach Pintus.

Then came President Florentino Pérez, delivering brief but heartfelt congratulations.

The crowd’s energy hit its peak.

All six trophies lined up at the front of the stage.

In front of them, a row of kneeling players.

Behind them, a line of standing players.

Coaches flanked either side.

But just as the media were ready to take the official photos, Li Ang and a few teammates exchanged a glance—

Then, with perfect timing, they each pulled out a small plush doll from behind their backs and placed them at their feet.

Reporters squinted, zoomed in—then burst into laughter and awe.

Each doll bore the face of a former Real Madrid player.

Kaká.

Khedira.

Gago.

Granero.

Lass Diarra.

Even almost-forgotten names like Altintop and Sahin.

All players who had left during the Mourinho era.

Clearly, this had been planned internally—Florentino and Mourinho were caught completely off guard.

But moments later, both understood.

And began to clap.

The crowd erupted.

The world says Real Madrid has no soul, no sentimentality.

But in that moment?

They proved otherwise.

From certain transfer dealings, it’s not hard to see why some people say Real Madrid lacks sentimentality.

But at least today, this group of Real Madrid players showed the world that they do have heart—that they are united, and they don’t forget their own.

This sextuple belonged to them.

But they didn’t forget the brothers who had left.

No matter how big or small their contributions were, this historic achievement had their fingerprints on it too.

For the first time ever, the full Mourinho-era Real Madrid squad, past and present, stood united in front of the media’s lenses.

The moment was both historic and deeply moving, tugging at the heartstrings of everyone present.

Mourinho himself felt emotional.

He had thought about those who had left—some because they didn’t fit his system, yes, but he still appreciated all of them.

Every player who departed under his tenure had been given chances.

Sure, some left with bitterness, but with time, that resentment had faded into understanding—and respect.

To see them symbolically return to the celebration through those small player dolls brought Mourinho a sense of closure.

Florentino Pérez, standing beside director Sánchez, leaned in to whisper something.

Whatever it was, judging by Sánchez’s delighted smile, it was clearly good news for Real Madrid.

The evening celebration came to a close in a wave of fanfare and emotion.

The players were happy, of course, but utterly drained.

After the event, Li Ang was driven home by his assistant—and the moment he stepped through the door, he collapsed straight into bed.

From 10 p.m. that night to nearly 11:30 a.m. the next morning, he slept like a rock.

And, of course, their gesture from the night before—those little dolls and the six glittering trophies—made headlines all across Europe.

The trophies themselves drew eyes, but the plushies of former teammates stole the spotlight.

Upon hearing about the tribute, former Mourinho-era Madrid players were all deeply touched.

Li Ang even received thank-you messages from Kaka and ”Face Brother” (Granero).

After replying, he finally got out of bed and cleaned up.

His personal nutritionist had already prepared lunch.

It was an off day—training wouldn’t resume until the morning of December 19th.

But Li Ang only needed half a day to recharge. After his hearty pre-training meal, he drove himself to Valdebebas.

His long-pass stat had quietly broken through the 84 threshold after the Betis match.

He felt like his progress had picked up pace lately, and couldn’t sit still—he wanted to push his long-passing skill to 85 during the winter break.

That was his current milestone. Once achieved, he’d shift focus to the next technical area.

Having clear targets kept him grounded.

Seeing Li Ang show up at the training ground as promised brought a sense of reassurance to Mourinho.

The next match? A clash against fourth-placed Málaga, who had just advanced to the Champions League knockout stage.

Before the Club World Cup, Mourinho wouldn’t have worried.

Even away from home, a full-strength Madrid could take care of Málaga.

But now? After a long trip, jet lag, and physical fatigue?

Mourinho couldn’t guarantee a smooth win anymore.

Luckily, Li Ang was back to his usual dependable form. As long as he held the midfield defensively, Madrid would have a sturdy foundation.

The whole coaching staff breathed a sigh of relief.

Over the next four days, the regular starters gradually returned to rhythm.

But Mourinho wasn’t completely satisfied.

Di María and Arbeloa were dealing with light muscle strains.

Alonso, suffering from fatigue, was advised by the medical team to sit out the next match entirely.

That complicated things.

Still, as long as Cristiano Ronaldo, Li Ang, Pepe, and Ramos were fit, Mourinho could work around it.

All eyes across Spain were locked on La Liga’s final round before the Christmas break.

Málaga vs. Real Madrid, Valencia vs. Getafe, Valladolid vs. Barcelona—these fixtures were drawing massive attention.

But on the eve of these matches, AS dropped a bombshell.

They reported that Guardiola had clashed with Barça’s higher-ups after multiple meetings, resulting in a full-blown fallout.

The article claimed that Guardiola had also brought tensions with certain players out into the open.

Some players, emboldened by their ties to the board, were ignoring Pep’s disciplinary warnings.

At first, few Madrid fans took it seriously.

Even the players at training had no idea what was brewing.

But by afternoon, when every major media outlet had picked up the story, the La Liga world was stunned.

Barça released an official statement denying the rumors.

And yet—just hours later—Guardiola posted on his personal social media:

”There’s nothing mysterious here. I’ve felt mentally drained, so I submitted my resignation.

It has nothing to do with the players.”

He didn’t name names.

Didn’t point fingers.

He even emphasized that it wasn’t about the squad.

But in the firestorm of speculation already raging, no one cared about those nuances.

Barça fans were devastated.

Many were crying out, ”It’s over!”

Last year, when Guardiola extended his contract for two more years, they’d celebrated like mad.

Now? Their despair was equally intense.

Li Ang, upon seeing the news, wasn’t surprised at all.

In his memories of the ”original timeline,” Pep had already wanted out the previous year.

Because this version of Barcelona was no longer his to control.

Whether it was the board no longer backing his squad-building vision, or players refusing to obey him—it didn’t matter.

Either one alone would’ve driven him out.

But both?

There was no way Guardiola would stay.

Li Ang had guessed back then that Pep was simply enduring—hoping to lead Messi, Iniesta, and the others to one last push.

Maybe he just didn’t want to leave with Madrid reigning unopposed.

But in the end?

Guardiola was still Guardiola.

Don’t be fooled by his calm, elegant demeanor on the sidelines.

In the locker room and on the training ground, he was a dictator.

A football tyrant.

As iron-fisted as they come.

At his core, he wasn’t that different from Mourinho.

Both were obsessive.

Both were uncompromising idealists.

Both were tactical purists to the point of madness.

And when faced with betrayal—no matter how much they pretended to tolerate it—

That flame of stubbornness inside them would never let it go.

So yes, this was the end.

Barcelona had just lost the greatest manager in their history.

And this time, they wouldn’t get him back.

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