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Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 174 - 173: All-In—Madrid Is Going All-In for the Title! · 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

Li Ang’s 22nd birthday was one for the books.

On April 5th, Real Madrid had just secured a massive win, and Mourinho had given the squad the following day off. Li Ang took the chance to throw a private party, inviting all of his teammates and coaches.

No media, no reporters. But this time, Li Ang personally uploaded a bunch of fun, candid birthday party pictures to social media.

Both his Western platforms and his Weibo back home were flooded with birthday wishes.

There were simply too many to reply to individually, so Li Ang posted a message after the party, thanking fans for their love and support.

By the time fans in China saw his Weibo post, it was already past 7 a.m.

While Li Ang was winding down and getting ready for bed, Chinese football forums were still buzzing about his 22nd birthday.

There’s something uniquely beloved about a homegrown hero.

Li Ang’s age put him at just about college graduation level in China—not quite a ”boy wonder,” but definitely still ”young blood.”

And the ”hero” part?

At 22, he already had two top-flight European league titles, seven cup trophies, including a Champions League.

And by the looks of things, he was well on his way to securing his third league title this season.

How could that résumé not earn him the title of hero in the Chinese football world?

Backed by official promotional campaigns, Li Ang had become China’s most perfect young idol.

And we’re not talking pretty-boy pop idols here.

This guy’s numbers, impact, and integrity blew entertainers out of the water.

Usually, when someone gets this famous this fast, their team gets nervous.

Because when you’re that hot, scandal is always lurking. Skeletons in the closet, old classmates with stories—it’s all fair game for hungry journalists.

But Mendes’s China-based PR team wasn’t scared in the slightest.

Why? Because Li Ang had no skeletons.

None.

A few reporters even went digging—back to his elementary and middle school teachers.

The verdict? Universal praise.

Still unsatisfied, others interviewed his old classmates.

Finally, they uncovered one tiny ”incident”—apparently, Li Ang had once waited outside another class’s door to ”fight.”

But once they dug deeper, they discovered the full story.

Li Ang wasn’t bullying anyone.

He was standing up for a classmate who had been picked on.

He took on several schoolyard bullies alone and won.

When this story came out, fans didn’t cancel him—they praised him more.

”Who hasn’t gotten into a few fights as a kid?

At least he fought for justice.”

After Li Ang went abroad, his academic and training records in school and at Getafe’s academy were unearthed and praised.

Strong student.

Got into Real Madrid’s La Fábrica through pure merit.

A poster child for Chinese youth.

If he had any flaw, it might be... too few rumors with women.

That’s right.

In an era where young stars are constantly surrounded by gossip, Li Ang’s only flaw was being too disciplined.

So what was there for his PR team to fear?

As long as they didn’t overhype, he was untouchable.

Following the birthday buzz, his PR team also reminded fans to keep an eye on Real Madrid’s upcoming games.

After United, Madrid were likely heading to the Champions League semifinals.

And La Liga? Only eight matchdays remained—Madrid still had one game in hand, meaning nine games left to play.

But the real test wasn’t whether Madrid could hold on.

It was whether Barça could keep up.

One more slip from Barça, and Madrid could begin their sprint.

The dream?

Seal the title by early May.

One month.

Li Ang was potentially just one month away from his tenth career title.

Ten trophies at 22.

That number carried real weight—and fans didn’t want to miss the moment.

With PR in full swing, Real Madrid matches once again became must-watch events in China.

April 9th, the night before Madrid’s second leg against United.

The other quarterfinals played out first:

Barça vs PSG

Bayern vs Juventus

Compared to Bayern’s slow-cooking of Juventus at the Allianz, the action at Camp Nou was fierce from the start.

PSG pushed hard early, determined to control the tempo.

Barça wouldn’t have it.

The opening half was wild and aggressive—both sides exchanging blows.

Defensively, PSG looked sharper.

They struck first.

1–0 at halftime.

Thiago Silva and ”Flying Pig” Alex built a brick wall at the back.

Pedro and Villa racked up nine shots in the first half—five of which were heroically blocked by PSG’s center-backs.

Cesc Fabregas? He spent the entire half looking lost against PSG’s muscle.

At halftime, Vilanova gambled—bringing on Messi, even though he was nursing a muscle issue.

And PSG? They braced for the onslaught.

Motta and Verratti tightened up, double-teaming Messi, giving him little room to breathe.

Still, Messi’s presence drew defenders.

It was enough.

Iniesta stepped up.

76th minute.

He darted into the edge of the box, met Xavi’s lobbed through ball with a perfect touch, and blasted it into the far corner.

Sirigu couldn’t stop it.

1–1.

Camp Nou erupted.

It hadn’t been a smooth run in Europe for Barça.

This quarterfinal had been hell.

But that only made this goal sweeter.

With the aggregate score tied and Barça holding the away-goal advantage, all they had to do was survive the final ten minutes.

PSG looked lost.

Back in Madrid, Li Ang sighed, reaching for the remote.

He was about to switch off the TV.

But then he saw Ibrahimović still on the pitch.

He stayed.

Just in case.

His phone buzzed—messages from Marcelo and Ramos.

”Too bad.”

”PSG should’ve gone all-out.

They lost their edge the moment Messi came on.”

Li Ang replied with his own little summary:

”They played scared.

Once they started sitting back, the momentum was gone.”

He glanced back at the TV.

Pastore had just been pulled down by Dani Alves—free kick to PSG, about 26 meters out.

Ibrahimović stepped up.

Li Ang had no illusions.

Ibra had never lived up to expectations in the Champions League.

Sure, every superstar gets marked and targeted—Messi, Ronaldo, Robben, Ribéry, Rooney.

But they still delivered.

Until last week’s revenge match against Barça, Ibra had never truly shone on this stage.

One match was already more than Li Ang expected.

So this?

He leaned back, ready to grab a drink.

”No way he scores from here…”

”Holy—!”

Li Ang blurted out in Chinese, halfway to the fridge.

Ibra curled it toward the far corner.

The ball soared over the wall—too high, it seemed.

Valdés shifted, tracking it.

But just before it cleared the bar—

It dipped. Fast.

Valdés froze.

Goal.

Just when nerves had begun to ease, they snapped taut again—and Valdés’s desperate dive missed the dipping ball by mere inches as it crashed beneath the crossbar and into the net.

”Zlatan is insane—!!!”

Almost in sync with the roaring Paris fans on screen, Li Ang leapt to his feet in his living room, arms raised and shouting with joy.

Zlatan Ibrahimović once again spread his arms wide, sprinting across the Camp Nou like a conquering warrior, roaring in fury and release.

He had assisted Lucas Moura’s goal in the first half—and now he’d just scored a masterpiece.

Three goals and one assist across two legs.

Zlatan had dragged Paris Saint-Germain to the edge of glory—and shoved Barcelona to the brink.

For the first time in years, PSG was about to reach the Champions League semifinals.

The Camp Nou was dead silent.

Messi was clearly frustrated, but he couldn’t push himself any further. His thigh injury still needed rest. He could be on the pitch, but he couldn’t carry the team like usual.

Ancelotti, this time, made no tactical mistakes.

He subbed on Beckham and fullback Van der Wiel, taking off the exhausted Jallet and reinforcing midfield coverage.

Beckham knew this was likely his final Champions League campaign.

So he gave it everything.

For the final ten minutes, Beckham transformed into a pure defensive midfielder, sweeping across the pitch like he was ten years younger.

Even when he got booked in the 89th minute for a heavy challenge, he didn’t care.

Finally, after the fourth minute of added time, as Pedro hesitated along the touchline, unable to get past Maxwell—the referee blew the final whistle.

The PSG bench exploded.

They hadn’t reached the final—yet.

But they had reached the semifinals—and that alone made them proud.

Zlatan dropped to his knees, arms to the sky, howling.

In that moment, all the resentment he once held toward Barça and Guardiola seemed to vanish.

He had proven himself.

The biggest upset of the Champions League quarterfinals was here.

PSG had knocked out Barcelona.

They would now face Bayern Munich, who had advanced with a 3–1 aggregate win, in late April.

Barça fans, devastated, booed loudly.

But the PSG players didn’t care.

The jeers didn’t bother them—but for the Barça players, they pierced like knives.

It was as if the crowd wasn’t booing the opposition—but them.

Messi sat on the turf, thigh wrapped in tape, silent and pained.

He was upset, but he wasn’t the type to blame teammates.

It would be a long, sleepless night.

Many Real Madrid fans stayed up too—but for them, it was joy that kept them awake.

Watching Barça crash out of four competitions in two seasons?

Perfect.

No one was worried Madrid would choke in the following night’s match.

And sure enough, they didn’t.

Hosting Manchester United and already up two goals on aggregate, Madrid were poised, focused.

United came out swinging.

They had to.

With Van Persie, Ashley Young, Nani, and Rooney up front, they had firepower.

Madrid, however, were content to sit back.

There was no need to engage in a shootout.

This time, even the home fans at the Bernabéu didn’t boo Mourinho’s conservative setup.

Letting Barça fans laugh at their tactics? No thanks.

Everyone wanted to reach the semifinals—no matter how.

Li Ang and Matuidi started together in midfield, focusing on breaking rhythm, killing tempo.

Rooney lost his cool after repeated marking from Li Ang and shoved him hard—Li Ang went down, teammates swarmed the ref.

Rooney got booked, and his game started to fall apart.

Zhan Jun and guest pundit Fan Zhiyi praised Li Ang’s cleverness.

”That wasn’t a dive or a flop.

When your opponent loses composure, you capitalize. That’s smart football.”

Madrid spent the first half exhausting United’s attacking lines.

The Movistar commentators joked:

”Little Lion has become Madrid’s protagonist earlier than expected today.”

Li Ang and Matuidi executed Mourinho’s instructions perfectly.

In the 56th minute, Modrić came on for Matuidi.

The moment he did, Madrid shifted—from containment to control.

United’s attackers, worn down from pressing all match, couldn’t keep up.

Ferguson tried to adjust, subbing Jones for Cleverley.

But it was too late.

Everyone had seen it coming.

Madrid’s strategy was simple and clear: defend the first half, dominate the second.

They gave United the opening—and United failed to seize it.

Now Madrid would take over.

Li Ang and Modrić lit up the midfield.

They rotated, surged forward, and spread the play.

C Ronaldo and Di María tore down the wings.

Substitute Higuaín lurked, fresh and hungry.

76th minute—C Ronaldo curled in a half-height cross.

Higuaín sprinted in, volleyed it home.

1–0 on the night. 3–0 on aggregate. Madrid was through.

Meanwhile, in Germany, Dortmund beat Galatasaray 2–0 at home, sealing a 5–1 aggregate win.

Madrid vs Dortmund.

Bayern vs PSG.

The semifinals were set.

April 23: Madrid hosts Dortmund.

April 24: Bayern faces PSG.

Of the two, Madrid-Dortmund had more firepower and intrigue.

Li Ang vs Götze—round three.

Götze had starred in the last two rounds—one goal, three assists. He had found form.

In the group stage, Li Ang had outplayed him.

But a few months had passed. Götze was growing stronger.

This time?

Who knew.

For Chinese fans and Madridistas, though, there was no doubt who’d come out on top.

Their confidence had been built—brick by brick, win by win.

As for Götze?

He could try again—when he was ready to challenge Messi’s dominance.

April 14, La Liga Matchday 31.

Barça played first, visiting relegation-threatened Zaragoza.

Should’ve been routine.

Second vs second-to-last?

At worst, a scrappy win.

But Barça stumbled again.

Still shaken from PSG’s late winner, they looked mentally drained.

With Messi injured, and Xavi and Iniesta rested, they lacked structure.

Cesc got his wish—playing as a true No. 8.

But his teammates didn’t trust him as the playmaker.

Barça fell apart—disjointed, disorganized.

0–0.

Vilanova’s head was spinning.

Later that evening, Madrid visited Athletic Bilbao.

With a full-strength squad, they dominated from the opening whistle.

Two goals in the first half, another from Ronaldo to cap it off.

3–0. Easy. Clean. Ruthless.

In the post-match press conference, Mourinho declared:

”We’re going all-in.

The title is ours for the taking.”

Thanks to Barça’s latest collapse, Madrid’s maximum lead now sat at ten points.

All-in.

Madrid was going all-in to win it all.

Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.

Read 20 Chapters In Advance: /johanssen10

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