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Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 195 - 193: A Brother’s Call and Zlatan Lands at the Bridge! · 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

After just one day of training, Leon had already left a deep impression on the Chelsea squad.

It wasn’t just his exceptional performance on the pitch or how quickly he integrated into the team.

It was also because, after that first session, Leon generously invited all his new teammates and the coaching staff out for dinner in central London.

By the end of the night, he’d spent over £30,000.

Not a small sum.

But his generosity earned him instant goodwill from everyone.

Talented, composed, generous, and easygoing—

Who wouldn’t want to befriend a teammate like that?

Even more impressive was that Leon didn’t treat anyone differently based on their status.

That night, while chatting warmly with veterans like Terry and Lampard, he made an extra effort to reach out to Kevin De Bruyne.

De Bruyne, who was still just a fringe player at Chelsea, was shocked.

Forget Oscar and Hazard, who were already starters.

Even Lukaku, who had scored 17 goals on loan at West Brom last season, was seen as more important than him.

Sure, De Bruyne had a near double-digit goal and assist tally at Werder Bremen.

But that was the Bundesliga—not the Premier League.

He hadn’t proven himself in England yet.

He wasn’t sure if he’d even make the squad this season.

Despite his humble demeanor, De Bruyne was proud. Deep down, he believed in his talent.

But he didn’t know how to prove it here.

And after today’s training, he’d already sensed Mourinho’s disapproval.

Even if that disapproval wasn’t aimed directly at him, it stung.

He couldn’t accept being ignored.

Conflict and doubt swirled in his heart.

That’s why when Leon approached him with genuine kindness, De Bruyne was grateful—if a little confused.

This wasn’t the recognition he’d dreamed of, but it was what he needed: a top player acknowledging his worth.

Leon even discussed De Bruyne’s passing ideas from the scrimmage—highlighting moments most had overlooked.

By the end of the meal, Leon felt he’d gained far more than £30,000’s worth.

And over the next few days of preseason training, his bonds with De Bruyne and Chelsea’s young players deepened rapidly.

They were all young. And while competition for spots was inevitable, as long as there was mutual respect and communication, relationships grew fast.

Of course, Chelsea’s squad wasn’t finalized yet.

On Leon’s third day of preseason, the transfer drama returned.

First up were strikers Demba Ba and Fernando Torres.

Demba Ba, after a dazzling stint at West Ham and Newcastle, had flopped at Chelsea.

His finishing rate had plummeted, and he lacked the aggression Mourinho demanded in a central striker.

Then there was Torres.

Injuries had long eroded his prime.

He was no longer world-class.

Abramovich had handed Mourinho full control to win the Champions League within three seasons.

If Torres no longer fit the system, even Abramovich’s affection for him wouldn’t save him.

But Mourinho didn’t immediately cut them.

Perhaps years ago, in his first Chelsea stint, he would’ve handled it differently—more ruthlessly.

Now, he spoke to them individually.

Two honest, sincere conversations. Two very different outcomes.

Demba Ba admitted he didn’t want to be third-choice.

He contacted his agent and began working on a move—possibly back to Newcastle or another Premier League club.

Torres, to Mourinho’s surprise, said he was willing to stay.

”As long as the new striker is truly better than me, I’ll accept the bench,” Torres said.

He wasn’t satisfied with losing to Real Madrid in the 2012 Champions League final.

He wanted to win the trophy for Chelsea before leaving.

His answer stunned Mourinho. He’d expected Torres to demand a transfer.

Instead, the conversation ended with a new mutual respect.

With the forwards addressed, Mourinho’s next target shocked everyone:

Juan Mata.

No one saw that coming.

Not even Mata himself.

He’d just posted 20+ goals and 20+ assists last season.

Yet now Mourinho was telling him that his style didn’t fit the new system.

It wasn’t about quality—it was about tactics.

Mata didn’t take it well.

The choice was clear:

Accept a rotational role or leave.

Three major talks in one week. Two players likely to depart.

One signing (Schürrle) already scrapped.

Everyone else in the squad was starting to feel the pressure.

Fortunately, Mourinho paused the meetings after Mata.

Still, Leon heard a rumor from Mendes.

The German forward Schürrle, scouted by both Villas-Boas and Di Matteo, had been crossed off Mourinho’s wishlist.

The deal was all but done.

Schürrle wanted the move.

Leverkusen had accepted the offer.

But after careful analysis with the new staff, Mourinho shut it down.

In short: He didn’t fit.

Mourinho had no plans to switch to a 4-4-2, and Schürrle wasn’t cut out for the wings or center-forward role in a 4-2-3-1.

So with Ba and possibly Mata out, and Schürrle canceled, Chelsea were left with:

Several veterans who still had quality.A core of promising youngsters.Gaps at striker and right wing.

Hazard had nailed down the left side, delivering 13 goals and 17 assists last season.

Paired with the evergreen Ashley Cole, Mourinho was confident.

But on the right?

Chelsea lacked a weapon.

Mata was too slow and more of a creative playmaker than a winger.

In Mourinho’s classic wide-attack system, Mata didn’t fit.

At striker?

Torres and Ba weren’t the answer.

If Mourinho wanted silverware right away, he needed a world-class center forward.

Ideally, one in his prime. One who could play physically, lead the line, and dominate in the box.

And then the call came.

From Milan.

From Sweden.

From a man who’d seen the headlines and called his little brother.

Zlatan was coming.

While reviewing Chelsea’s current roster from his hotel room, Leon found himself just as puzzled as Mourinho — who’s going to lead the line as the center forward?

Instinctively, he thought of Fernando Llorente, the tall Spanish striker who’d been frozen out by Athletic Bilbao.

In terms of attributes, Llorente was a near-perfect fit for Mourinho: strong physique, aerial dominance, excellent holdup play, and reliable finishing.

His lack of pace wasn’t a dealbreaker — most target men weren’t sprinters anyway.

Leon imagined linking up with Llorente at Chelsea and saw real potential.

Still, he chose not to bring it up.

In Madrid, he’d occasionally given Mourinho tactical suggestions, but when it came to transfers and team-building, that was the manager’s turf.

A player crossing that line? Not a good look.

So when Juventus completed a free transfer for Llorente, Leon never mentioned his name.

With the International Champions Cup — a preseason friendly tournament — fast approaching, Leon shifted focus to training and building chemistry with his new teammates.

Of course, it would be great if the coaching staff finalized a striker and right winger quickly.

But even if they didn’t, Leon’s job didn’t change.

He had to lead the midfield, help others click, and deliver results.

The rest? Not his department.

Worst case? Use Lukaku. Even if the kid kept drifting wide, as long as he maintained the power and form he showed at West Brom, Leon could live with it.

If he played like that — wide runs or not — it was better than having no one up top.

Leon had made peace with it and started spending extra time working on long-range shooting with Lampard.

His shooting had been atrocious. So, naturally, it was improving quickly.

But the sight of Leon practicing shots and finishing triggered someone else — Oscar.

If Leon was training to score, that meant he probably wasn’t planning to play as a holding midfielder.

Most likely, Mourinho would push him forward — maybe even into a No. 10 role.

Oscar felt the chill.

He knew his starting spot wasn’t safe.

And before Hazard could celebrate still having the left flank to himself, Leon approached him, smiling, and asked for dribbling tips.

Hazard was... stunned.

He had no idea Leon was just trying to broaden his toolkit.

To Hazard, it felt like Leon was about to take over the attack.

Now both of Chelsea’s ”next big things” were sweating.

Because the man they were competing with?

He’d won three league titles in three years, helped defend the Champions League, and was the best midfielder born in the 1990s.

They’d seen his dominance firsthand in training.

There was no comparison.

Even though Hazard played a different position, he had to admit: if Leon ever man-marked him in a real match, he’d have no chance.

With each passing session, Leon’s status grew.

It was no wonder Mourinho had said from the start that Leon didn’t need help earning respect.

Chelsea had paid a fortune to bring him from Madrid.

But even without the price tag, Leon’s ability alone was enough to command the room.

After all, he had battled Messi in La Liga, trained against Ronaldo and Di María every day.

Hazard and Oscar?

They hadn’t faced anything like that yet.

Mourinho didn’t need to make speeches.

Leon’s performance would say everything.

By July 30, Chelsea players had been grinding in camp for weeks.

Finally, Mourinho gave them a half-day break before the friendlies began.

Leon, being Leon, treated the squad to another private French dinner in central London.

But just as he finished showering and changing, Rui Faria called him into Mourinho’s office.

What Mourinho said next left him speechless.

”You want me to call Zlatan?”

”Yes,” Mourinho nodded. ”You first. If he’s open to it, I’ll follow up and make it official.”

Mourinho didn’t even pretend to be subtle.

Compared to Chelsea’s striker crisis, asking Leon to make a personal call was nothing.

So Leon did it.

That night, he called Zlatan Ibrahimović.

After some casual back-and-forth, Leon asked:

”If there was a chance... would you want to play with me again?”

Zlatan thought he was joking.

Laughing, he said if next year brought the chance, he’d recommend PSG try to sign Leon again.

But when Leon made it clear that he was not going to Paris, Zlatan understood.

”This your idea? Or…”

”The boss will call you tomorrow,” Leon replied.

And just like that, he threw Mourinho under the bus — without hesitation.

Zlatan went quiet. But he gave Leon a thoughtful reply.

”Let me talk to José first. I’ll give you an answer after that, you sneaky little fox…”

The call ended.

Leon didn’t hear from Zlatan the next day.

But he wasn’t worried.

If Zlatan were going to say no, he’d have called and explained.

Silence meant he was probably already talking to his agent.

Realistically, what did PSG offer that Chelsea couldn’t?

At Chelsea, there was Mourinho. There was Leon.

And they could match his salary and his hunger for trophies.

Leon couldn’t think of a reason Zlatan would refuse.

On August 1, Chelsea’s squad flew to Indiana, USA, for the first leg of the International Champions Cup.

Shortly after landing, the French media dropped a bombshell:

Chelsea and PSG had reached a preliminary agreement for Zlatan’s transfer.

There had been zero leaks beforehand.

Europe’s football world shook again.

Fans first laughed it off.

Then new rumors surfaced — PSG were now targeting Higuaín.

People suddenly believed it.

Zlatan was great, but he was turning 32.

Higuaín was younger, proven, and available.

PSG could swap deals with minimal financial difference.

It was a smart move. A business win.

By the end of August 1, French and English outlets were running wild.

But Sky Sports stayed quiet—until the morning of August 2, when they finally confirmed:

Zlatan to Chelsea is done. Higuaín is en route to Paris.

Two seismic transfers.

Back-to-back headlines that sucked all the attention from every other club.

Fans reeled.

Then, within two hours, PSG and Chelsea made it official:

€18 million.

Zlatan Ibrahimović, just shy of 32, had officially joined Chelsea.

The Premier League was about to witness the Lion—in blue.

Zlatan lands at Stamford Bridge.

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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