Home / Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid / Chapter 298 296: Nineteen Wins, the Big Boss of the League—A Perfect Midseason Finish!

Read free on Ficlyn

Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 298 296: Nineteen Wins, the Big Boss of the League—A Perfect Midseason Finish! · Nov 11, 2026

Prev Chapter Novel Info Next Chapter

Chapter List (401)

Page number / 9

251 Chapter 251 249: What the Hell, You Still Dare to Fight Back? 2026-11-11
252 Chapter 252 250: Iron-Blooded Blow to Özil, 8-Goal Rout of PSG 2026-11-11
253 Chapter 253 251: Facing Barça in the Quarterfinals — Li Ang’s Smile! 2026-11-11
254 Chapter 254 252: Arsenal, It’s Time to Stop Dreaming 2026-11-11
255 Chapter 255 253: I Don’t Want to Say Chelsea Will Clinch the Title Early, But That’s the Reality 2026-11-11
256 Chapter 256 254: Returning to Camp Nou Feels Just Like Coming Home~ 2026-11-11
257 Chapter 257 255: Damn, Messi, You’re Actually Going All Out?! 2026-11-11
258 Chapter 258 256: The Counterattack Begins Now! 2026-11-11
259 Chapter 259 257: What We’re Doing Is Pure Torment—Crying? That Counts Against the Clock Too 2026-11-11
260 Chapter 260 258: Stop Scoring, Man—You’re Already Fourth in the Premier League Golden Boot Race 2026-11-11
261 Chapter 261 259: See You Next Year, Leo 2026-11-11
262 Chapter 262 260: The Red Devils Are Dead—Long Live the Blues! 2026-11-11
263 Chapter 263 261: The Champions League Is Full of Giants Lining Up to Get Revenge on Li Ang 2026-11-11
264 Chapter 264 262: Chelsea’s Midfield and Defense Still Need Major Reinforcements! 2026-11-11
265 Chapter 265 263: Hey Kuan, Bro, The Boss Here’s Generous—High Salary, Come Quick! 2026-11-11
266 Chapter 266 264: You Know It—The Little Lion’s My Brother, and Zlatan’s a Beast 2026-11-11
267 Chapter 267 265: Reinforcements Assembled, Legends Return—This Time, We’re Taking It All! 2026-11-11
268 Chapter 268 266: Li Ang, When Are You Winning the Ballon d’Or and Becoming a Grand Slam Champion? 2026-11-11
269 Chapter 269 267: A Dominant First Win—The Rise of the Galactic Chelsea Begins 2026-11-11
270 Chapter 270 268: The “British Battleship” Makes His Premier League Debut — The Excellent Maguire 2026-11-11
271 Chapter 271 269: Not a Single One Can Keep Up 2026-11-11
272 Chapter 272 270: Rotation? Even Chelsea’s Rotation Is a European-Class Powerhouse 2026-11-11
273 Chapter 273 271: Replicating Kaka’s 2007 Season? Why Not! 2026-11-11
274 Chapter 274 272: A Premier League El Clásico Reimagined 2026-11-11
275 Chapter 275 273: Guardiola, I Am Your Nemesis! 2026-11-11
276 Chapter 276 274: Your Blade Is Sharp, But So Is Mine 2026-11-11
277 Chapter 277 275: Premier League’s Finest—A Duel Between Possession and Relentless Pressing 2026-11-11
278 Chapter 278 276: In This Era, I Am Destiny! 2026-11-11
279 Chapter 279 277: A Hat-Trick to Be Crowned! The One True God of the Premier League! 2026-11-11
280 Chapter 280 278: Ambition on All Three Fronts 2026-11-11
281 Chapter 281 279: It’s Not That We Played Well—The Opponent Was Just That Bad 2026-11-11
282 Chapter 282 280: What, Arsenal Wants to Be the New Top Dog Too? 2026-11-11
283 Chapter 283 281: Eden, Stand with Me at the Summit of World Football 2026-11-11
284 Chapter 284 282: Everyone’s Showing Off—Except United, Who Are Getting Beaten Up 2026-11-11
285 Chapter 285 283: Tyrant Leon 2026-11-11
286 Chapter 286 284: Smashing the Face of the Premier League’s ”Top Club” 2026-11-11
287 Chapter 287 285: Double Digits in the League – Top Scorer in the Premier League! 2026-11-11
288 Chapter 288 286: Closer to the Ballon d’Or Than He Ever Imagined 2026-11-11
289 Chapter 289 287: I Want to Face the Strongest—But If It’s Barça First, That’s Fine Too 2026-11-11
290 Chapter 290 288: Luiz, Don’t Let Your Loyalty Ruin You 2026-11-11
291 Chapter 291 289: If You Ever Get the Chance, Think About Us—I’ll Be Waiting at Stamford Bridge 2026-11-11
292 Chapter 292 290: The Winning Streak Ends, But an Undefeated Title Run Is Still Possible 2026-11-11
293 Chapter 293 291: Little Lion, Are You Seriously Going for the Golden Boot?! 2026-11-11
294 Chapter 294 292: Time for Everyone’s Favorite Event—Beating Spurs Again 2026-11-11
295 Chapter 295 293: He’s Already a Young Legend 2026-11-11
296 Chapter 296 294: Someone Please Shut His Mouth Next Time! 2026-11-11
297 Chapter 297 295: Aiming for a New Midseason Record—Time to Sharpen the Blade Against Sky City 2026-11-11
298 Chapter 298 296: Nineteen Wins, the Big Boss of the League—A Perfect Midseason Finish! 2026-11-11
299 Chapter 299 297: 2014 Silver Ball Winner—Leon! 2026-11-11
300 Chapter 300 298: Hype Helps, but Performance Is What Truly Matters 2026-11-11

After finishing Matchweek 17 of the Premier League, Chelsea returned to London overnight.

There was no training scheduled for the morning of December 23rd,

so after the win over Stoke City, Chelsea’s players were able to enjoy a well-deserved lie-in.

They only needed to report to Cobham at 3 p.m. for physical checks and recovery training.

Their next match, against West Ham, was four days away—

which, for Chelsea, was the only piece of good news in this hellish schedule.

Because right after that match, they’d only have a day and a half of rest

before heading to face Southampton away.

For top Premier League clubs, this kind of schedule was simply incomprehensible.

Mid-table and lower-ranked sides? They had two options:

One: Bite the bullet and hope no one gets injured.

Two: Rotate the squad and just accept a loss, to preserve players for more winnable games.

After all, if a team’s core players get injured during this festive run,

the second half of the season could collapse.

West Ham, Chelsea’s next opponent, were also likely to rotate in the final match.

But with four days of rest, they could still put up a fight.

Currently sitting fourth in the league, their position was far from secure.

They had every reason to try to steal a point from Stamford Bridge.

On December 26th, fans from around the globe had their eyes fixed on London’s Stamford Bridge.

Chelsea vs. West Ham—Matchweek 18’s early kickoff.

Every major English outlet had reporters on-site.

Were they there to witness another dominant Chelsea win?

Hardly.

They were desperate for a miracle—

for West Ham to finally end Chelsea’s undefeated run.

A loss would mean explosive headlines. Drama. Clicks. Engagement.

In the run-up to kickoff, some papers didn’t even try to hide their bias—

boldly backing West Ham.

Inside the West Ham dressing room, the players felt it too:

this was their chance to represent the rest of the league.

To go up against the unbeatable giant.

Sure, Chelsea were stronger in every department.

But spirit counts for something.

Manager Sam Allardyce chose not to kill that fire.

Yes, he wanted his players to stay grounded and understand the gulf in quality—

but hammering that point would only crush morale.

So, just before the match, Big Sam threw caution to the wind.

Forget playing it safe—play with heart.

This was a gamble.

If they won, the mental boost for the squad would be huge.

If they lost?

No big deal.

City and Arsenal had both been beaten by Chelsea.

At least they fought.

With nothing to lose, West Ham stepped onto the pitch like fearless underdogs.

Chelsea’s goal was clear: control the tempo, win with minimal effort.

Efficient. Ruthless.

Mourinho and his staff had predicted West Ham’s tactical approach in advance.

After seventeen straight wins and endless praise from the European media,

Chelsea knew they’d be hunted.

Teams didn’t just want to beat them—

they wanted the glory of being the one to stop them.

Even a draw was enough to steal headlines.

And if Chelsea were West Ham today?

They’d go for it too.

Leon knew this match would be brutal.

So he didn’t take chances.

He used a stamina-recovery supplement the day before.

He wasn’t at 100%, but 90% was still enough to ruin someone’s afternoon.

At 1:45 p.m. London time, the whistle blew for Matchweek 18’s early kickoff.

West Ham started hot.

They attacked Chelsea’s half in full force—

a full-blooded press with their 4-3-3 formation.

Three forwards, three midfielders, two fullbacks.

Everything committed.

Fans watching on TV were stunned.

Was this West Ham?

What guts!

Leon instantly dropped back.

He, Matic, and Kroos took position just outside the defensive third.

Lukaku and De Bruyne tracked wide to disrupt West Ham’s ball progression.

Chelsea locked into their shape immediately,

not giving the Hammers any space to breathe.

With the high press stalling, Allardyce adjusted quickly.

He ordered his players to hold formation and switch to wing-based attacks.

But West Ham’s flank strategy was… unusual.

Downing was the true winger on the right.

On the left, Enner Valencia relied solely on pace to break through.

The real playmaker on that side? Left-back Aaron Cresswell.

He did the crossing. He controlled the rhythm.

This weird asymmetry had worked well in previous matches.

Downing played free, with defensive support from Jenkinson behind him.

The result?

Four goals and five assists in 17 matches—impressive for a 30-year-old winger.

So Mourinho countered.

Azpilicueta started at left-back specifically to shut Downing down.

And with Ivanović aging, he sat this one out.

Callas started on the right—faster, more agile, better for man-marking.

Valencia had pace, sure—

but after ten minutes, he hadn’t gotten past Callas once.

As for Cresswell?

Every time he tried to push up, Leon was lurking.

The kid had no space, no speed advantage, no physical edge.

Eventually, he gave up on overlapping altogether,

settling for small link-ups with Valencia or supporting midfielders like Kouyaté.

Bottom line?

Chelsea’s staff had planned for all of this.

Mourinho willingly gave up early control to assess West Ham’s plan.

Fifteen minutes in, he’d seen enough.

He glanced at Leon, still planted deep and focused.

It was almost time.

”Tony, next time we win the ball back, don’t go for the long pass. You take control, steady the tempo, and let’s work our way past midfield.”

Like Mourinho, Leon had been analyzing West Ham’s approach from the first whistle.

By now, he had seen through the structure of their pressure game.

To be fair, West Ham’s rise into the Premier League’s top four wasn’t baseless.

They were aggressive in midfield, physically imposing, with well-organized wing play.

And with Carroll, a service-reliant target man, performing reasonably in the middle, their attack looked balanced.

Compared to United still searching for form or injury-ravaged Tottenham,

West Ham genuinely deserved their fourth-place spot.

But to challenge Chelsea head-on? That was a different level entirely.

Their wing play was fine—just way too reliant on Downing.

The moment Downing was silenced, West Ham didn’t just lose a leg. They lost three-fifths of their attack.

Carroll couldn’t create for himself and was mostly just waiting for crosses.

And when Downing needed help? Carroll was nowhere to be found.

Seeing all this, Leon made his move.

Time to take back control.

Leave Downing to Azpilicueta in a 1v1.

Without him, Valencia on the left was just a reckless dribbler—a ”solo and lose” type.

Callas had him on lock.

With instructions given, Leon cranked up the pressure from deep.

In the 24th minute, Chelsea regained possession again.

But instead of launching a counter through the flanks, they slowed things down.

Kroos held the ball in Chelsea’s half, deliberately lowering the tempo.

West Ham, expecting a high press, were confused.

They waited for Chelsea to surge forward—but it never came.

Instead, they saw a patient, composed team slowly reclaiming midfield territory.

Unable to resist, West Ham’s front players began pressing.

But whether it was Kroos or Leon in possession, they couldn’t even touch the ball.

Their passes were crisp.

Leon’s dribbling spins broke through double teams like a knife through butter.

The more they failed to win the ball, the more desperate they became.

And as West Ham committed more and more players to press…

Leon and Kroos dropped deeper, luring them in.

Originally, Leon’s plan had been to regain midfield control.

But now? A better opportunity had presented itself.

If West Ham wanted to press, let them.

With their midfielders pulled forward, space opened up behind them.

Leon darted past Nolan and launched a fast, low, guided missile of a pass toward the right wing.

Lukaku, already at full sprint, controlled it with his chest, then burst forward.

Jenkinson couldn’t cope—just like old times when Drogba tormented Senderos.

And funnily enough, Jenkinson was still Arsenal property, only loaned to West Ham.

Lukaku blew past him effortlessly and charged into the box.

Collins and Reid assumed he’d square it for Ibrahimović.

But Lukaku whipped a sharp pass across to the far post.

There was De Bruyne, shedding his marker, bringing the ball down cleanly,

then laying it back toward the edge of the box.

And that’s when West Ham realized they’d forgotten the most dangerous man on the pitch.

”De Bruyne lays it off—Leon arriving late… SHOT!!”

Leon, who hadn’t scored from range in a while, stepped into it and unleashed a rocket.

The roar tore through the air like thunder above the box.

Adrián leapt instinctively—he knew where it was going.

But he didn’t get there.

The ball never touched his fingertips.

Instead, it struck the net with a violent snap,

and Stamford Bridge exploded.

”WHOOOOAAAAA!! What a goal! Leon has done it again!”

The Sky Sports commentator screamed.

”A worldie! That’s his 17th Premier League goal of the season! He just keeps going!

Every time Chelsea need a breakthrough—he’s there!”

Back in China, Jian Jun, Fan Zhiyi, and Zhang Lu were already celebrating on-air.

Allardyce licked his dry lips, whispering to himself: ”It’s not over… still time…”

But deep down, another voice echoed louder:

”The gap in individual quality is just too damn big…”

On the sidelines, Mourinho peeled himself away from Holland’s hug,

ran a hand through his hair, then calmly gestured for the team to stay grounded.

The Chelsea players didn’t celebrate long.

When play resumed, they dropped the match into their comfort zone—the fishing trap.

West Ham’s attempts to equalize only made them more vulnerable.

The first half ended 1–0, giving the Hammers a glimmer of hope.

But within 20 minutes of the second half, Chelsea struck twice more.

3–0.

West Ham’s spirit was shattered.

This supposed Premier League ”marquee matchup”?

Ended 4–1.

Across the league, fans were in awe of Chelsea’s dominance.

Eighteen straight wins.

They broke their own record of 52 points at the halfway mark.

Just one match left.

No one—not even Southampton themselves—believed they could stop Chelsea now.

On December 28th, at St. Mary’s Stadium, Chelsea and Southampton lit up the pitch with an end-to-end battle.

Leon, Hazard, and Ibrahimović all found the net.

Chelsea closed out the first half of the 2014–15 season with a 4–2 win.

Nineteen wins. Nineteen games. Unprecedented.

Leon, with 18 league goals, sat atop the scoring chart, ahead of Cavani (15) and Suárez (15).

The Big Boss of the Premier League had raised its head.

Chelsea stood on the summit—

unmatched, unshaken, and utterly dominant.

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

Read 40 Chapters In Advance: /johanssen10

Prev Chapter Novel Info Next Chapter

Recommended Novels

Rebirth: General, Don't Mess Around! Azure Ascend

Maze Survival: Only I Can See Hints Los Angeles dried fr

Pillar of Yita Crimson Flame

Divine Level Witch Doctor 5 Zhi

All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me Dao_Of_Heaven

Incredible Insight: Toy Factory Discovers Swarm Drones Li Ju Ai Chi Tu Dou

Tech Giants: Starting from Bankrupt Companies Bao Xiang Da Pai Gu

You Were Told to Design Software, But You Created Tiktok?! You Xi Jun Zi

Survival In the Crypt: I Can Hear the Tone Book raw cabbage

Tycoon War God Once Young

A God-tier Counter-damage Priest, I am the Master! Zui Ai Da Shui Keng

Urban Martial Saint River Handsome

Global Wanted: Start Casino, Capture Tsunade 笨笨的宇宙

Online Games: Billions Spent on In-app Purchases, Archery Becomes a God Man Man Meng You

Unlimited Top-ups, the Most Lavish Pay-to-win Live Streams Ever Ao Tian Wei Shu Tiao