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Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 214 - 212: Li Ang’s Been Waiting to Unleash on Guardiola’s Team · Nov 11, 2026

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Chapter List (401)

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201 Chapter 201 - 199: Two Matches, Three Goals Created—The Dominant Core Keeps Rising, Trouble Ahead for Manchester United 2026-11-11
202 Chapter 202 - 200: He’s Not Here to Challenge—He’s Here to Conquer the Premier League! 2026-11-11
203 Chapter 203 - 201: The Premier League Landscape After Three Consecutive Wins – A Well-Deserved August Best! 2026-11-11
204 Chapter 204 - 202: FIFA Virus Takes Its Toll—Li Ang as the Ultimate Safety Net! 2026-11-11
205 Chapter 205 - 203: Chelsea in Danger! Time to Call on the Little Lion to Rescue the Team! 2026-11-11
206 Chapter 206 - 204: A Hero in Crisis—The First Real Fixture Test of the Season 2026-11-11
207 Chapter 207 - 205: In London, Lose to Anyone but Spurs? Never! 2026-11-11
208 Chapter 208 - 206: Me? I Love Playing Against Old Friends 2026-11-11
209 Chapter 209 - 207: Robin Hood Chelsea, Generous Givers to Liverpool 2026-11-11
210 Chapter 210 - 208: The Little Beast Fooled Lame by Li Ang 2026-11-11
211 Chapter 211 - 209: Li Ang’s Plan to Reach Double-Doubles in Half a Season 2026-11-11
212 Chapter 212 - 210: The Little Lion Gives the Youngsters Another Masterclass 2026-11-11
213 Chapter 213 - 211: Cesc, Don’t Run—Changing Leagues Won’t Save You 2026-11-11
214 Chapter 214 - 212: Li Ang’s Been Waiting to Unleash on Guardiola’s Team 2026-11-11
215 Chapter 215 - 213: The First Hat-Trick of His Career! 2026-11-11
216 Chapter 216 - 214: Letting the Youngsters Play? That’s Not “Throwing the Game”—It’s Called Smart Rotation! 2026-11-11
217 Chapter 217 - 215: Fighting for First Place in the Champions League Group—Li Ang and Zlatan Go Wild 2026-11-11
218 Chapter 218 - 216: Premier League’s Top Chance Creator, Top Three in Two Charts, Best Defender—This Is Li Ang! 2026-11-11
219 Chapter 219 - 217: Fiery Little Lion in Protective Mode, Live and Online 2026-11-11
220 Chapter 220 - 218: Who Advances in the Final Round? The King of London Decides 2026-11-11
221 Chapter 221 - 219: Let’s See What You’re Made Of, Youth Brigade 2026-11-11
222 Chapter 222 - 220: You Want Me to Choose? Then I Pick Bayern in the Knockout Stage! 2026-11-11
223 Chapter 223 - 221: 13 Goals + 10 Assists, Double Double Achieved! 2026-11-11
224 Chapter 224 - 222: First Knockout Round Against PSG — Li Ang Wants 272 to Feel Despair! 2026-11-11
225 Chapter 225 - 223: Set a Small Goal First—Let’s Win the League Cup 2026-11-11
226 Chapter 226 - 224: Welcome Back to the Era of the Iron-Blooded Blues Dominating the Premier League! 2026-11-11
227 Chapter 227 - 225: Premier League Overlords, Kings of London! 2026-11-11
228 Chapter 228 - 226: Premier League’s Top Star? He Already Is 2026-11-11
229 Chapter 229 - 227: Starting the Year with Two Young Bulls — Mourinho’s Foundation-Laying Frenzy 2026-11-11
230 Chapter 230 - 228: See You in the League Cup Final! 2026-11-11
231 Chapter 231 - 229: Another Award Season, Mourinho’s Real Madrid Hauls It In 2026-11-11
232 Chapter 232 - 230: Manchester United Doesn’t Want to Be Graceful? Then Let’s Help Them Be! 2026-11-11
233 Chapter 233 - 231: City Breathing Down Their Necks, Mourinho Makes a Decision 2026-11-11
234 Chapter 234 - 232: The Premier League Revival – Pep vs. Mou, Clash for the Top 2026-11-11
235 Chapter 235 - 233: Damn, We’ve Become the Stand-Ins 2026-11-11
236 Chapter 236 - 234: Reconciled League Leaders, Ecstatic Arsenal Meet Misery 2026-11-11
237 Chapter 237 - 235: Defensive Crisis – Trouble Ahead for Chelsea? 2026-11-11
238 Chapter 238 - 236: Coach, Let Me Play Center-Back! 2026-11-11
239 Chapter 239 - 237: ”I Can Really Do This! Want to Give It a Try?!” 2026-11-11
240 Chapter 240 - 238: This Time, the Lafite’s on Me! 2026-11-11
241 Chapter 241 239: I Won’t Just Shut You Down—I’m Scoring Over You Too 2026-11-11
242 Chapter 242 240: The Clutch Prince, Opener of Carnage 2026-11-11
243 Chapter 243 241: Winning by Four Isn’t Enough—Leon, the Ruthless One 2026-11-11
244 Chapter 244 242: A Lavish 20+18—Leon’s Statement 2026-11-11
245 Chapter 245 243: The Premier League’s Common Enemy—The Little Lion 2026-11-11
246 Chapter 246 244: So You’re Also Attracted by Looks 2026-11-11
247 Chapter 247 245: Pep, Every Encounter in This World Is... 2026-11-11
248 Chapter 248 246: Double Twenty, League Cup Champion—I Want It All! 2026-11-11
249 Chapter 249 247: A Season in Miniature, Born a Champion 2026-11-11
250 Chapter 250 2026-11-11

In the past two seasons, Chelsea vs. Manchester City had already become one of the Premier League’s headline clashes.

But it had never drawn the kind of media and fan attention it had this season.

At the root of it all were the two managers: José Mourinho and Pep Guardiola.

Two polarizing figures—equally loved and hated across the football world.

Ever since the 2008–09 season, right up through last year, Mourinho and Guardiola had completely dominated Europe’s biggest stage.

Between the two of them, they monopolized every Champions League trophy over the last five years.

Their climb to the summit earned them legions of fans.

And for the fans of the teams they defeated, they became villains.

But for the media? This was the perfect storm. Love them or hate them, both men brought one thing in abundance: attention.

The media didn’t care if fans admired or despised Mourinho and Guardiola—they just wanted eyeballs, and they got them.

And this time, the media push had been monumental.

Promos for the Chelsea–City match were hyped with an intensity rivaling El Clásico.

To be fair, it still couldn’t quite match that spectacle—after all, Spain’s version still had Messi and Ronaldo on either side.

But the fact that it was even close? That told you everything.

Even many die-hard La Liga fans had to admit: the English media’s ability to market and generate global buzz was second to none.

Spanish outlets, in contrast, suddenly looked… lacking.

Back when Real Madrid vs. Barcelona included both Mourinho and Guardiola, Spain had a gold mine of hype—but barely scratched the surface.

If either Real or Barça were to sell Ronaldo or Messi to Chelsea or City right now, the English media would’ve practically taken over world football’s entire attention economy.

So yes—credit where it’s due.

All this buildup, however, made the players nervous.

What had once been a big Premier League fixture was now being billed as the must-watch match of the global football weekend.

That kind of attention would shake anyone.

Anyone… except maybe Cesc Fàbregas and Li Ang.

They were used to this kind of stage.

Still, few media outlets were actually putting the two of them side by side for comparison.

That had a lot to do with Cesc’s history.

During his time at Barcelona, he’d never quite claimed a true core role in midfield.

Pre–Clásico comparisons with Li Ang usually involved Iniesta—or sometimes Busquets.

Cesc, if mentioned at all, was usually matched against players like Benzema or Di María on promotional materials.

So now, even though he was back in the Premier League, few fans or pundits were pitching him as Li Ang’s rival.

Had this been the young Cesc from before his Barça move—clean-shaven, boyish, full of flair—things might’ve been different.

But this version, now bearded, withdrawn, and playing deeper? He wasn’t the media darling anymore.

Today’s preferred matchup was Li Ang vs. David Silva.

But inside Chelsea’s dressing room, Mourinho and Li Ang knew exactly who the real threat was.

Silva was brilliant, sure—last season he was one of City’s dual engines.

But this season, Guardiola had benched Yaya Touré and shifted Cesc into the holding midfield role.

Now, Fàbregas was the heart of City’s system.

Whatever mistakes Pep had made at Barça—whatever missteps in how he used Fàbregas—were history.

Even if it had been Wenger, sitting in that Camp Nou manager’s chair back then, no one could’ve displaced Xavi, Iniesta, or Busquets.

Fàbregas simply didn’t have a spot to call his own.

But now? Outside of Barcelona? In Guardiola’s system?

Cesc was a gift.

Even Pep himself said in interviews: ”To work with Cesc again at City—it’s a privilege.”

Now 26 and in his prime, Fàbregas had become the metronome of Manchester City’s midfield.

With 6 wins, 1 draw, and 1 loss, City sat second in the league—just behind Chelsea.

And with 1 goal and 4 assists in 8 matches from a deep-lying playmaker role?

That was exceptional.

Sure, Cesc might not dazzle like he once did. But now he was more complete—more composed—and more dangerous than ever.

So when Mourinho and his analysts reviewed City’s game footage, Fàbregas received more attention than anyone else.

More than Silva. More than Agüero.

Mourinho’s answer was simple:

To stop Cesc, unleash Li Ang.

Li Ang could be a traditional defensive midfielder. Or a classic No. 10.

But today? He’d become Mourinho’s front-line destroyer—a supercharged shield.

He didn’t need to be glued to Cesc like he was to Messi in El Clásico.

But Mourinho needed sacrifice.

And if Li Ang found chances to attack? Whether he passed or shot—it was his call.

That was Mourinho’s tactical reward for his golden boy.

And he gave that freedom because he trusted Li Ang would make the right decision every time.

Li Ang knew this too.

Which is why he mentally ignored Mourinho’s sweet talk about ”tactical freedom” and got his mind ready for war.

October 27th, afternoon.

City’s fully rested starting XI stepped onto the pitch at Stamford Bridge, greeted by a wall of boos.

Li Ang spotted Cesc warming up across the way. He raised a hand in greeting.

No response.

Guess Cesc took Messi’s advice seriously.

But Li Ang didn’t mind. He just grinned, stretched, and got into his own warmup.

Tactics were already locked in.

Whatever the managers said in the dressing room now was just to lift spirits and settle nerves.

Li Ang was as relaxed as ever. On the walk to the tunnel, he even messed around—playfully squeezing Hazard and De Bruyne’s necks to ease their tension.

”Hey Kevin—when you’re swinging in crosses today, don’t screw it up.

Or after the game, I’m gonna ask what exactly you were doing last night.”

Zlatan, ever the master of motivation, slapped De Bruyne on the back while half-joking, half-threatening.

Everyone chuckled. The mood lifted. Even Hazard cracked a smile.

Game on.

Seeing the situation unfold, Li Ang no longer felt the slightest hint of worry. Full of confidence, he stepped into formation, raising his chin and looking straight ahead.

And just as the officials signaled for both teams to follow them onto the pitch, Li Ang’s voice echoed through the players’ tunnel—not loud, but clear and resolute.

”Brothers, just wait and watch me take down their midfield and backline!”

It wasn’t just his Chelsea teammates who heard it—Manchester City’s players, standing nearby, caught every word.

Arrogant.

That was the first thought in the minds of several City players, especially captain Vincent Kompany and the rest of the defensive line. They shot Li Ang sharp, hostile glances.

Only Fàbregas stayed still, frowning slightly.

He had faced Li Ang many times and knew the guy wasn’t the type to spout off just to taunt someone. There had to be more to it.

Is he playing mind games? Fàbregas wondered.

That question stayed with him right up to kickoff.

Because the moment the whistle blew, Li Ang charged forward like a tiger descending the mountain, launching straight at City’s midfield.

Fàbregas, who had received the opening pass, instantly snapped into full alert mode, shifting into high gear to counter Li Ang’s pressure.

Pep Guardiola, during preparations, had anticipated Mourinho might deploy Li Ang in a forward-pressing role.

After all, it was a tactic Mourinho had used back in La Liga to torment Guardiola. Pep knew this kind of preemptive midfield hunt all too well.

He’d even seen with his own eyes how Li Ang once tracked Messi all the way into Barça’s own half.

So while he had mentally prepared himself and his team for this, it was still unnerving.

City started slowly building from the back. No urgency, just control. Fernandinho hovered near Fàbregas, keeping an eye on Li Ang, acting as a bodyguard of sorts.

But then—just when it seemed Li Ang’s only goal was to shadow Fàbregas—Chelsea sprang the trap.

Hazard and De Bruyne tucked inside from the wings, flanking Li Ang on both sides. Together, they launched a full-press siege on City’s ball handlers.

Behind them, Lampard crept forward, ready to intercept any outlet passes City might try to sneak through the lines.

Chelsea’s entire forward and midfield line had suddenly become a tightening net, closing in on City’s half like a wave of blue pressure.

Guardiola was caught off guard.

Before the meat grinder could fully engage, he instinctively signaled for his backline to clear it long—fast.

City’s players had the same instinct.

Fernandinho sent a long ball forward… and Guardiola immediately slapped his forehead. No—don’t do that!

Watching on television, City fans sighed in collective dread.

Nasri, pulling inside, tried to contest the aerial ball.

But Matic was already there. He simply stepped in and boxed him out, taking control like an adult brushing off a child.

On the sidelines, Mourinho cracked a knowing smile.

Exactly.

When facing high pressing? Sure, go long. It’s a classic counter. Hit the open space behind a pressing midfield. Simple, right?

But there was a catch.

It doesn’t work on Chelsea.

It worked for other teams. But not Manchester City.

Guardiola’s City was built with speed, technique, and individual brilliance.

But physicality? That was their flaw.

Look at their front line—Silva, Nasri, Agüero, Navas…

All lightweights.

In tight ground-passing games, sure, they had the edge.

But the moment they resorted to aerial duels, Chelsea’s defenders—built like tanks—had a field day.

Drop a long ball near the center circle? Matic would mop it up every time.

Push it deeper? Terry and David Luiz would come storming out, grinning as they devoured those 50-50s.

Pep had seen this movie before.

Back at Barça, his sides had been pummeled by Mourinho’s Real Madrid using this very playbook—long balls, relentless pressing, and ruthlessly efficient transitions.

He had hoped things would be different at City. But the moment he entertained the thought of going long, he knew…

Mourinho had set the trap.

Even knowing it, though, reacting in time on the pitch was another story.

No Premier League team had tested City with this kind of press before. No one had introduced them to Mourinho’s manic press—what Li Ang liked to call ”Kraken Ball.”

Suddenly, Fàbregas was no longer calm.

Even he was rattled.

In the 9th minute, under intense pressure, Fàbregas tried to pass sideways to Fernandinho—but the touch was slightly off.

Li Ang pounced.

With a tackle that was part slide, part steal, he poked the ball free and fed it to Ibrahimović, who had dropped back to receive.

Ibrahimović held off Martín Demichelis with ease, then laid the ball off to De Bruyne—yes, the same guy he had threatened just before kickoff.

And just as Zlatan surged forward and Lampard and Hazard flooded City’s box, De Bruyne made his decision.

Don’t let him cross!

Guardiola screamed from the touchline, panic rising.

After all, De Bruyne had already delivered several pinpoint crosses this season.

And now Chelsea had three players crashing the box.

Guardiola knew what was coming.

But De Bruyne didn’t cross.

Instead, he slid the ball across the grass with a shallow curve—aimed not into the box, but just outside it.

The surprise. The killshot.

City’s defenders were all packed into the penalty area. Not a single one was in position to contest Li Ang, who had ghosted into the top of the D.

As the ball rolled toward him, Li Ang took one touch to guide it forward.

Then he cocked his right leg back and unleashed hell.

Joe Hart’s mind went blank. He had no idea why—but he felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread.

He guessed near post and dove—only to realize, too late, that the shot was dead center.

Boom.

The ball screamed past his shoulder and slammed into the back of the net.

The net rippled violently as the ball burst through—and the Stamford Bridge crowd exploded.

The sound of ball-on-net rang out clearly, amplified through the broadcast to the world.

Li Ang roared and pounded his chest, standing tall at the edge of the box like a conqueror.

That feeling was back.

Whenever he faced a team coached by Guardiola…

Li Ang always exploded.

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