Chapter 127: Watch Out—Here Comes Real Madrid's Aerial Attack Squad!
"Real Madrid takes the lead! Oh! Another lethal counterattack, a beautiful header! Barça has really suffered from aerial balls against Madrid these last couple of seasons. That was a total misjudgment from Piqué!"
"Everyone knows Ronaldo is a massive threat in the air, and Piqué couldn't just leave him unmarked—but I feel like Ronaldo is playing smarter than before. He's more willing to drag defenders away to create space for Benzema. A superstar who's willing to sacrifice for his teammates is way harder to deal with."
"Mm, that's spot on. So with this goal, it's 1–0. Real Madrid have taken the lead in the first half—and it's an away goal too. The pressure has totally flipped; now it's Barça who's under the gun offensively."
He Wei and Zhang Lu took turns analyzing Barcelona's predicament live on air—it sounded a bit strange, honestly.
Analyzing the home team's struggles… in Barcelona's own stadium?
But the reality was hard to ignore. Barça really were showing a lot of issues in these opening 20 minutes.
Their defense was the same old story. In midfield and attack, they couldn't seize control the way they used to. Possession was slightly lower than expected, and when Real Madrid launched a counter with high balls, the whole defense unraveled in panic.
Offensively, they didn't have the same fearsome ability to shred opposing backlines like in the previous few seasons.
At the very least, this current Barça squad looked genuinely helpless against Real Madrid's compact and organized mid-to-defensive block.
They couldn't dictate the rhythm when attacking, and defensively they were perfectly countered by Madrid's key traits. In short, it was just plain uncomfortable to watch.
Meanwhile, after the restart, Real Madrid were gaining more and more confidence with every play.
The players couldn't help but admire their coach—it was clear Mourinho understood Barça inside and out.
This style of play—sticking to the counterattack—was the right way to go. Every time they faced Barça, this was the approach, and every time it felt amazing to pin their greatest rivals to the mat.
But while most of the Madrid players were enjoying the game more and more, Li Ang was feeling the pain.
"Leo, don't be so aggressive, come on—we're friends, aren't we? When you came to Madrid last time, I even texted you and invited you out for dinner!"
Li Ang was once again dropping into a low stance as he muttered nonstop at Messi, who had that unmistakable look of intent—ball at his feet, ready to go full throttle.
But now, with Barça trailing, Messi wasn't about to waste time stuck in a prolonged duel with Li Ang.
The ball clung to Messi's feet as if magnetized, accelerating forward into Madrid's defensive third.
As always, Li Ang threw his body into the effort, scrambling to stall Messi long enough for his teammates to recover and help.
Messi almost managed to slip through the double-team of Li Ang and Coentrão—but in the final moment, Li Ang stretched out his foot and poked the ball away just as Messi was about to leave him behind.
On the sidelines, Guardiola nearly fell to his knees, hands on his head.
Messi turned back with a sigh, looking at Li Ang sprawled out on the turf, limbs tangled—but who had once again managed to boot the ball safely away from danger.
At the same time, Li Ang let out a breath of relief and looked back at Messi.
Their eyes met. One broke into a wide grin, while the other, cheeks puffed in frustration, jogged back to the center circle.
Coentrão helped Li Ang up off the grass. Li Ang's eyes, though, were even more focused now as he looked toward Messi.
"Messi, you're not the only one reaching your peak. I'm growing stronger too. One day, I'll beat you head-to-head—not just in the result, but in my performance."
It was a wildly ambitious goal, one that seemed almost impossible—but after setting it for himself, Li Ang quickly dropped the smile and locked back into the intense one-on-one showdown.
From the stands, Barça fans looked at Li Ang—who seemed to have improved even more defensively—and groaned in frustration.
"How the hell did a freak like this come out of Real Madrid's youth system?"
"And the worst part is, somehow, he actually made it into the first team!"
"If it weren't for Li Ang, Madrid's defense wouldn't be nearly this stable—and they definitely wouldn't have taken the La Liga title from us last season!"
The more they thought about it, the angrier they got—and a thunderous wave of boos erupted from the stands, directed squarely at Li Ang.
Even the other Madrid players were a little surprised by the sudden spike in hostility.
"What, did our little lion cub give another spicy interview before the game?"
"Nope. He's been laying low lately."
"Ah, it's fine. He was born to get under Barça fans' skin, haha…"
During a brief stoppage in play, a few of Madrid's senior players chuckled as they teased Li Ang.
He didn't mind at all.
As the saying goes: the boos and curses of your rivals are the highest praise for a defensive player.
Truth be told, Li Ang had grown to like the sound of Camp Nou's jeers.
The first time he played here last season, he had been a bit nervous.
Now? He was so used to the boos, it felt no different from hearing cheers at the Bernabéu.
He wasn't about to taunt the Barça fans with a mock "listening" gesture or anything—but that ever-present smile on his face was already enough to make the Catalan supporters feel uneasy.
And the match just kept trending more and more in Real Madrid's favor.
Guardiola looked increasingly lonely on the sidelines. Right now, he had no solution.
"Maybe I should prep Villa during halftime?"
David Villa, who had been relegated to the bench this season, suddenly popped into Guardiola's mind.
Compared to Pedro, who had offered little threat in the opening half-hour, Villa—more experienced and more capable of freeing up Messi—might be the better attacking option right now.
Sánchez had done decently and still enjoyed Guardiola's trust.
But before Pep could finalize his tactical adjustments, a whistle from the pitch interrupted his thoughts.
Madrid's counterattack had been disrupted by Barça's retreating press—Busquets committed the foul, giving Real a free kick in the attacking third.
"Push up! Push up!"
Mourinho was energized, signaling for Pepe, Ramos, and the others to go forward for the aerial duel.
Of course, that included Li Ang.
Barça's defense looked visibly tense. All eyes were on Piqué and Busquets—their only decent aerial defenders.
As one Madrid header after another pushed into Barça's box, the other defenders had no choice but to get nervous.
Especially Mascherano, who had already been punished in the air once tonight.
And Dani Alves, who was never known for his heading.
Ronaldo, Pepe, and Ramos were heavily marked by Barça's defenders.
As bodies jostled and shouts filled the box, Modrić sent in a fast, flat lofted ball from the right side of midfield!
Ronaldo and Ramos charged hard in the first wave.
Pepe held the center.
But the one who broke free and attacked the ball with full force at the far post… was Li Ang!
He had managed to shake off Iniesta and slip forward. His physique had bulked up noticeably compared to last year, and Iniesta's attempts to hold him back barely made a dent.
Plus, Iniesta didn't dare commit a foul in the box, so Li Ang had a clean run at it.
He launched into the header with full force.
Valdés reacted quickly—but the bouncing ball that Li Ang had struck dipped just as the keeper leapt, slipping right underneath him!
The ball rolled over the line—and just like that, Real Madrid had scored again before halftime!
Camp Nou fell dead silent.
It was as if the entire stadium had turned into a library.
Meanwhile, Li Ang—scoring his first goal of the new season—took off sprinting down the touchline!
His roar echoed across the pitch like a warning to every team in La Liga this season:
Watch out—Real Madrid's aerial attack squad has arrived!
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