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Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 325 323: Time Rewinds, the Demon God Descends! · Nov 11, 2026

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Chapter List (401)

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301 Chapter 301 299: What Conspiracy? Just Mutual Respect~ 2026-11-11
302 Chapter 302 300: The League Cup, FA Cup, Premier League, and Champions League—We Want Them All! 2026-11-11
303 Chapter 303 301: Guardiola and Mourinho Both Go Wild — The Eye-Catching Battle of the Blues 2026-11-11
304 Chapter 304 302: Guardiola’s First Time Truly Envious of Mourinho 2026-11-11
305 Chapter 305 303: Visiting Camp Nou Twice a Year, Each Time with a New Feeling 2026-11-11
306 Chapter 306 304: Chelsea and Barcelona Swapped Tactical Playbooks 2026-11-11
307 Chapter 307 305: Dear Camp Nou, This Is a Friendly Greeting from London 2026-11-11
308 Chapter 308 306: Shifting Shapes and Shifting Blows—A Dazed Barcelona 2026-11-11
309 Chapter 309 307: Once Again, the Heavily Backed Barcelona Falls... 2026-11-11
310 Chapter 310 308: Leon’s Ambitious Stats and the Golden Boot Battle Rekindled 2026-11-11
311 Chapter 311 309: Tottenham Will Not Have This Title—That, I Promise! 2026-11-11
312 Chapter 312 310: The Sword Stays Sheathed, But Its Threat Is Greatest 2026-11-11
313 Chapter 313 311: We’ve Already Achieved a Quarter of This Season’s Title Goals 2026-11-11
314 Chapter 314 312: A Day of Suffering for Barça Fans—The Birth of the “7-Up Massacre”! 2026-11-11
315 Chapter 315 313: The Second Title Challenger—Juventus 2026-11-11
316 Chapter 316 314: The Relentless Winning Streak That Crushed City’s Spirit 2026-11-11
317 Chapter 317 315: Master Allegri, Let Me Show You What I’ve Learned 2026-11-11
318 Chapter 318 316: At the End of the B2B Road—There Is Leon 2026-11-11
319 Chapter 319 317: By His Own Hand? No—This Was a Team Victory! 2026-11-11
320 Chapter 320 318: A Gift from Manchester United—Premier League Champions with Five Games to Spare! 2026-11-11
321 Chapter 321 319: The Lone Seed in the Dragon’s Den—The Premier League’s Final Hope 2026-11-11
322 Chapter 322 320: Facing Bayern in the Semis—A Wembley London Derby Awaits 2026-11-11
323 Chapter 323 321: Bayern’s Self-Sabotage—Heynckes’ Legacy Now Belongs to Chelsea 2026-11-11
324 Chapter 324 322: Call in the Flying Dutchman—Bayern’s Cry for Help! 2026-11-11
325 Chapter 325 323: Time Rewinds, the Demon God Descends! 2026-11-11
326 Chapter 326 324: Give United a Push—They’d Better Get Used to the Europa League 2026-11-11
327 Chapter 327 325: Stamford Bridge Blocks the Comeback—Leon’s 40th Goal of the Season 2026-11-11
328 Chapter 328 326: The Battle for a Place Among the Giants – The Most Iron-Blooded Champions League Final! 2026-11-11
329 Chapter 329 327: You’ve Given Everything for Liverpool — Bring Your Talent to London Now! 2026-11-11
330 Chapter 330 328: Against Arsenal, Chelsea Never Needs to Hide Their Tactics 2026-11-11
331 Chapter 331 329: The 30th League Goal — A New Milestone for a Midfielder! 2026-11-11
332 Chapter 332 330: Get Ready to Witness the First Domestic Treble in English Football! 2026-11-11
333 Chapter 333 331: Atlético Are Strong, But I Hope They Fulfill Their Champions League Dream Next Year 2026-11-11
334 Chapter 334 332: Heard You Guys Run a Lot? Funny, So Do We! 2026-11-11
335 Chapter 335 333: Don’t Tell Me Chelsea Really Wants to Play for Extra Time? 2026-11-11
336 Chapter 336 334: Milan Brothers’ Superstar Moment 2026-11-11
337 Chapter 337 335: The Fairy-Tale Summer of the Old Boys! 2026-11-11
338 Chapter 338 336: The End of a Legend, The Dawn of a New Era 2026-11-11
339 Chapter 339 337: Real Madrid Enters the Fray—Is Li Ang Going Home? 2026-11-11
340 Chapter 340 338: If We Offer the Highest Salary in Football, How Will Real Madrid Respond? 2026-11-11
341 Chapter 341 339: Brother Lion, Lead Us One More Time 2026-11-11
342 Chapter 342 340: Dribbling and Finishing Upgraded—Don’t Be Surprised, Li Ang Is Still Evolving 2026-11-11
343 Chapter 343 341: Six Titles Aren’t the Ceiling—We’re Going for Seven! 2026-11-11
344 Chapter 344 342: Lukaku Joins United, Gnabry Joins Chelsea—They Both Have Bright Futures 2026-11-11
345 Chapter 345 343: Trippier’s Brilliant Debut 2026-11-11
346 Chapter 346 344: A Hat-Trick Debut—Who Said Suárez Came to Chelsea Just to Be a Role Player? 2026-11-11
347 Chapter 347 345: Here We F*ing Come, Six-Trophy Champions!** 2026-11-11
348 Chapter 348 346: Two Six-Trophy Champions—The Undisputed Best in the World 2026-11-11
349 Chapter 349 347: Oh No—This Season the Premier League Has Two Unstoppable Flat-Track Bullies! 2026-11-11
350 Chapter 350 348: The Group of Death Is Born, and Li Ang Is Crowned Europe’s Best! 2026-11-11

Bayern fans had every reason to place their trust and hope in Robben—but at this point in the game, bringing on just one Arjen Robben was far from enough to stage a comeback.

Sure, Robben could reignite their threat down the right flank.

But the gaping hole in midfield? Still wide open.

You field Müller and Thiago together while letting Schweinsteiger handle all the defensive coverage alone? In a Champions League semifinal against Chelsea?

That’s not bold—that’s reckless.

It might’ve worked in the Bundesliga or against weaker teams in Europe.

But this? This was Chelsea—a team built around the most lethal counterattack in all of Europe.

Field a lineup like this against Real Madrid or Atlético? Bayern wouldn’t have survived either.

They needed Javi Martínez.

Without him sitting deep, Schweinsteiger couldn’t operate as his full, dynamic self.

Instead, he was being exposed, stretched thin by a formation that left him no support.

Thiago’s inability—or refusal—to consistently track back only made things worse.

His physical level had dipped since last season, and blaming Schweinsteiger for defensive lapses would be missing the point entirely.

Müller, for his part, had done everything he could.

As an attacking midfielder, he sprinted back immediately after every turnover, even dropping into his own box to defend.

What more could you ask?

Even Thiago could argue: Pellegrini’s tactical setup asked him to push forward and organize attacks.

You can’t have it both ways—demand that he orchestrate in Chelsea’s half and still be back in his own box to help defend every time.

He wasn’t Leon, after all.

He wasn’t a steel-bodied B2B machine.

Try to play like Leon, and Thiago would burn out by the 60th minute.

Physically done. Useless.

So now, all three of Bayern’s midfielders felt unfairly judged.

Pellegrini sat on the bench, arms crossed, equally frustrated.

When Bayern had hired him, they promised he could implement his philosophy—to build a new Bayern in his image.

The front office had even granted him sweeping authority to phase out aging stars.

Pellegrini had his own ideas.

He believed in attacking football.

Replacing Heynckes’ 4-2-3-1 with a more progressive system made sense to him.

If Bayern wanted a carbon copy of the old ways, they didn’t need him—they could’ve hired any Bundesliga coach.

He wasn’t going to be anyone’s tactical puppet.

And he had a favorite pupil: Thiago.

He refused to bench Müller or Schweinsteiger.

So he sacrificed Martínez, who’d spent most of the season battling injuries anyway.

Promoting Götze while phasing out Robben?

That was another boardroom suggestion.

In Pellegrini’s mind, he wasn’t wrong.

Yes, conceding early wasn’t ideal, but he wasn’t going to cave and call upon Robben and Martínez just yet.

To do so in the first half would feel like an admission:

That Heynckes had been right.

That he had been wrong.

And for all of Pellegrini’s soft-spoken demeanor—he had his pride.

Right or wrong didn’t matter. Only fit or unfit.

Leon didn’t know about Pellegrini’s internal struggle.

He only saw Bayern’s bench making no move—and that put him completely at ease.

This Bayern looked nothing like the one from last year.

Veterans like Lahm still carried Heynckes’ DNA.

But younger players—Thiago, Götze, Lewandowski—had fully aligned with Pellegrini’s vision.

The result?

A tactical fracture within the team.

And Pellegrini lacked the championship pedigree to fully command the locker room.

The cracks were visible on the field.

Bayern’s unity was gone.

Last year, they were a machine—every player moving as one.

Now?

Lahm tried to rally his teammates—but few responded.

Meanwhile, Chelsea looked more united than ever.

Leon had his arm around Kroos, whispering something in his ear.

The two laughed together.

Ibrahimović ruffled Hazard’s hair.

De Bruyne and Azpilicueta embraced in celebration.

Terry waved his arms to the crowd, firing up the fans.

On the touchline, Mourinho clapped vigorously, eyes gleaming with confidence.

Chelsea’s players jogged back to position, fired up, shouting encouragement to one another.

The contrast couldn’t be clearer.

Even neutral fans who’d favored Bayern pre-match were starting to jump ship.

The match restarted.

This time, Chelsea didn’t play games.

They bunkered in and committed to defending their lead.

Bayern, unaware of just how well Chelsea had set their trap, were suddenly cautious too.

No more reckless pressing.

Both teams slowed the pace.

Bayern probed without real teeth.

Chelsea stood firm.

By the 30th minute, the match had dulled.

Bayern’s substitutes started warming up.

Robben.

Martínez.

Pizarro.

Rode.

By the 35th minute, Bayern finally pushed again.

But Chelsea had already reshaped into a compact 4-5-1.

Ribéry tried to take on Azpilicueta, drew a couple fouls.

But Lewandowski?

He was a ghost.

Just one shot in the half.

Support play aside, this was well below par.

Compared to last year’s Mandžukić, Lewandowski looked tame.

But Bayern had no better option.

Mandžukić and Gómez were both shipped out last summer.

Now it was Lewy or bust—and fans had no choice but to back the younger striker.

The halftime whistle blew.

Bayern’s players trudged toward the tunnel.

Pellegrini followed, stone-faced.

Chelsea?

They were calm.

Focused.

In the locker room, Mourinho praised the team top to bottom.

Then he circled back to his message:

Stay solid. Lock it down.

Bayern fans’ faith in Robben needed no explanation. But right now, if they hoped to turn the game around, sending on just Robben was far from enough.

Sure, Robben could revive their right flank.

But the gaping hole in midfield remained.

Fielding Müller and Thiago while leaving Schweinsteiger to handle all defensive duties in the middle?

Completely unrealistic.

In the Bundesliga or against weaker opposition in Europe, maybe you could get away with that setup.

But against Chelsea, the most lethal counterattacking team in Europe?

That’s not bold—that’s suicidal.

Let’s be honest: even if Bayern hadn’t drawn Chelsea, a setup like this wouldn’t have worked against Madrid or Atlético either.

They needed Javi Martínez.

Without him sweeping behind, Schweinsteiger couldn’t express his full box-to-box game.

Instead, he became overburdened and exposed—especially with Thiago’s inconsistent defensive transitions.

Thiago had clearly declined compared to last year.

Blaming Schweinsteiger for Bayern’s defensive flaws was unfair.

Müller, too, had done his part.

As an attacking midfielder, he hustled back every time Bayern lost the ball—often tracking all the way to the edge of his own box.

Thiago might even argue:

”Pellegrini asked me to push forward and direct the attack. You can’t also expect me to recover into our box every time we lose it. I’m not Leon—I’m not made of steel.”

Trying to play like Leon would burn him out in 60 minutes.

Game over.

So now, every member of Bayern’s midfield felt wrongly accused.

On the bench, Pellegrini watched with a weary heart.

When Bayern hired him, they had promised freedom to build the team in his own image.

They’d even encouraged him to phase out aging veterans.

Pellegrini had a vision—a style.

Aggressive, possession-heavy football.

”Offense is the best defense.”

If they wanted Heynckes’ 4-2-3-1, they could’ve hired someone else.

He wasn’t going to be a tactical puppet.

And he had his guy—Thiago.

Unwilling to bench Müller or Schweinsteiger, and with Martínez constantly injured, Thiago was his only real option.

Promoting Götze while gradually replacing Robben?

That too came with a nod from upper management.

So Pellegrini didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

Sure, conceding a goal early was tough.

But it was too early to call on Robben or Martínez.

Making that move now would mean admitting he’d gotten it wrong.

That Heynckes had been right.

And despite his kind demeanor, Pellegrini had his pride.

There’s no absolute right or wrong—only what fits, and what doesn’t.

Leon didn’t know about Pellegrini’s internal battle.

All he saw was a silent bench—and that was enough to give him peace of mind.

This Bayern? It wasn’t the same as last season’s.

Some players, like Lahm, still carried Heynckes’ tactical DNA.

But others—Thiago, Götze, Lewandowski—were fully aligned with Pellegrini’s ideas.

Two tactical factions.

And Pellegrini didn’t have the silverware clout to unite them.

On the field, the fracture showed.

Last season’s Bayern had been united—every player on the same wavelength.

Now?

Lahm still tried to rally his teammates—but few responded.

In contrast, Chelsea looked like a brotherhood.

Leon whispered something into Kroos’ ear—both men laughed.

Ibrahimović playfully ruffled Hazard’s hair.

De Bruyne and Azpilicueta hugged in celebration.

Terry gestured to the crowd, rallying the fans.

Mourinho clapped with satisfaction from the sideline, his eyes gleaming.

Chelsea’s players returned to their positions full of fire.

Two teams. Two mindsets. Two different worlds.

Even neutral fans who had blindly backed Bayern were now changing their tune.

The match resumed—and Chelsea no longer played coy.

They fully committed to defending the lead.

Bayern pressed, but with caution.

It was as if the match had entered a cold war—one side unwilling to expose itself, the other bunkered in and waiting.

Bayern’s attacks dulled. Chelsea’s defense hardened.

Until the 70th minute, when Pellegrini finally made a move.

But instead of swapping out a midfielder or defender, he sent on Robben for the still-active Müller.

A shocking choice.

Bayern fans expected Götze to come off.

Müller’s face darkened, but he obeyed the manager’s call.

On camera, he still embraced Pellegrini before heading to the bench.

Robben jogged straight to the right wing.

Götze drifted to the center.

Bayern had reinstated their ”dual-wing assault” formation.

But more importantly—Leon vs. Götze had resumed.

And Leon wasn’t in the mood to be polite.

If Götze tried to carry the ball through the middle, Leon would greet him the only way he knew how: hard.

After Bayern’s substitution, Leon saw an opportunity.

Midfield had been shaky all match.

Now Pellegrini had removed Müller, who at least pressed and defended.

Putting Götze in the middle? That was asking for trouble.

As expected, Bayern’s attack became more active—Robben made things happen down the right.

But midfield was soft.

With Thiago and Götze both pushing forward, only Schweinsteiger was left behind to cover.

Leon waited patiently.

As Mourinho had said: attack with caution.

Above all, protect the midfield.

But Bayern’s eagerness handed him the opening.

In the 79th minute, Robben used fresh legs and sharp technique to rip open the right wing.

Bertrand and Matic were forced to retreat.

With the defense pulled wide, Robben attempted a dangerous through pass.

But he and Götze weren’t on the same page.

Robben led the pass—expecting a diagonal run.

Götze had slowed down—expecting a pass to feet.

They both guessed wrong.

Terry cleaned up the mess and sent the ball back to Kroos.

Kroos immediately shifted it to De Bruyne on the right, who skipped past Bernat with ease.

Leon launched forward—a missile.

De Bruyne found him with a perfect through ball.

The run shattered Bayern’s midfield.

Schweinsteiger was chasing in vain.

Boateng, stuck between Leon and Ibrahimović, could only retreat.

Leon didn’t hesitate.

He looked right—just a glance to check on Hazard’s run.

Then he spotted Neuer’s position.

Germany’s sweeper-keeper was too far out—near the edge of his box.

Leon smirked.

Screw it. Why not?

He adjusted his stride. Swung hard.

Commentators around the world went silent.

Leon pulled the trigger from nearly 40 meters out.

The ball screamed through the air—rising, then dipping violently.

Neuer sprinted back, but he was a step too slow.

For a split second, he was back in Warsaw—watching Balotelli’s cannonball fly past him.

He dove—futile.

He closed his eyes.

SWISH.

The net rippled.

Stamford Bridge erupted.

Leon ripped off his shirt and sprinted to the sideline, arms raised high.

The crowd bowed before their god.

Time had rewound.

And the Demon God had descended again.

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

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