Chapter 128: Why Does That Number Ten Keep Charging Into Our Box?!
Li Ang's first goal of the new season came even quicker than he'd expected.
He vaguely remembered that last season, he didn't score his first goal for Real Madrid until well past Matchday 10 in La Liga.
Now, in only the second game of the new season, he'd already found the net—and against Barcelona, no less. The feeling could be summed up in just one word: sweet.
Last season, he only scored six goals across La Liga and the Champions League combined. For a player like him, finding the back of the net was still no small feat.
Sure, he'd made progress this season—improving both his heading and long-range shooting—but Li Ang wasn't greedy.
His target for the season? Try to hit double digits in total goals.
That meant across all competitions: La Liga, the Champions League, the Spanish Super Cup, UEFA Super Cup, Club World Cup, and the Copa del Rey.
Ten goals—just four more than last season—would already be a big step forward. He'd be completely satisfied with that.
As for hitting double digits in just La Liga? He wasn't daring to dream that far yet.
His opponents weren't clueless. They studied him. He'd already completed a full season in Spain, and every team was going to start targeting him more carefully.
He was well aware of this. Mourinho and his coaching staff had their own regular tactical meetings—wasn't it all about how to nullify the threats posed by key opposition players?
Li Ang had a very realistic view of his own offensive skillset. He knew exactly how full his "bowl" was—and only aimed to fill it accordingly.
Stay grounded. First, lock down defense. Then, handle his duties as Xabi Alonso's midfield partner. Occasionally rotate into an organizing role. And only after that, look for attacking chances.
Get the priorities wrong, and Mourinho would definitely start to suspect something was off with his mentality.
After another round of intense celebrations with his teammates, Li Ang's mind grew sharper instead of more elated.
"They're definitely going to press hard in the final minutes of the first half. Let's focus on defending and make sure we protect the lead. Don't let them find a way back in."
His timely reminder didn't bother the other Madrid players in the slightest.
They were used to his barking on the pitch, his leadership on defense, and his vocal directions.
And when it came to off-field relationships, Li Ang got along with every big name in the dressing room. No one resented him calling the shots at the back.
Even Casillas was happy to give up a bit of authority and let Li Ang do the shouting. As for Ramos—he had zero objections.
On the sideline, Mourinho made the same call—reinforce the defense.
Against this version of Barcelona, Real Madrid no longer had to go full turtle mode for 90 minutes. That was unnecessary. If both teams went all-in, it was a 50/50 battle.
But there were key phases when they had to defend.
Like the final stretches of each half—especially when Barça was trailing and bound to go all-out in search of a goal.
Mourinho had just tweaked his tactics when, on the other side, a clearly agitated Guardiola was already shouting from the sideline.
He was urging his players to push up and restart quickly.
But judging from the defeated looks in some of the Barça players' eyes, his usual fire-and-brimstone approach wasn't having the desired effect.
As he dropped back into position, Li Ang couldn't help but feel a little wistful.
Truthfully, the signs of Guardiola losing control over this Barça side had begun in the latter half of last season.
Guardiola was still coaching them—for now. But in the winter transfer window, he'd received no additional funding to strengthen the squad.
With the club execs brushing him off and his waning authority over the players, Li Ang had a feeling Guardiola wouldn't be sticking around much longer.
Maybe it was because of Messi that he re-signed after his previous contract expired last season? Maybe that's why he stayed for two more years?
That was the only explanation Li Ang could come up with.
If there was anything tying Guardiola emotionally to this team, it had to be Messi first—and second, the iconic Xavi-Iniesta-Busquets midfield trio he was so proud of.
But even with his best efforts, the writing was on the wall.
This Barça side needed partial reconstruction. The central spine might be kept intact, but to maintain hunger and ambition, they had to bring in new blood.
Li Ang didn't know how much longer Pep would remain in La Liga—maybe half a season, maybe the full year.
But one thing was clear: the end of the "Dream Team" era was near. This season would likely mark the fall of Barça's golden generation.
To witness firsthand the decline of Real Madrid's greatest rival—the team that had dominated them for three seasons straight—Li Ang didn't know whether to feel joy or sorrow.
"At least we got one season of direct revenge while they were still in their prime. At the club level, we've erased all regrets."
With that quiet sigh, his complicated expression slowly cleared up as the match restarted.
Sentimentality aside, there was no way he'd ease up on Barça now.
When Madrid was still growing and getting battered, Barça never went easy on them.
A little posturing between rivals was fine, but when you had the chance, you had to go in hard—no mercy.
In the final minutes of the first half, nearly the entire Real Madrid squad dropped back into their own half, making Barça's home fans stomp in frustration.
Without Messi delivering the final blow, their so-called "siege" attack was far less dangerous.
But Messi couldn't do it all, even if he wanted to.
He'd delivered plenty of threatening passes in the first half—might as well have spoon-fed his teammates—but they just wouldn't take a bite. There was nothing more he could do.
So in the end, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
After several feints and dribbles, he curled a low shot with his favored foot that slammed off the post, making every Real Madrid fan's heart skip a beat.
Thankfully, Li Ang stepped up at the death. With two decisive tactical fouls, he broke Barça's rhythm and killed their momentum.
He only received a verbal warning from the referee—no yellow. In his mind, that was a totally worthwhile trade. He didn't even bother protesting.
As usual, Barça launched their typical group protest routine, and Messi—who had wanted to take a quick free kick—was once again left shaking his head.
The first half ended right after Casillas collected Messi's last free kick.
And the news that Real Madrid led Barça 2–0 at halftime spread like wildfire across Europe.
While pundits and fans outside buzzed about Madrid's explosive form, inside the dressing room, Mourinho was laying out his tactical adjustments for the second half.
Another "tactical surprise" was brewing—and at least for Real Madrid fans, the second half delivered exactly that: a bold, aggressive Madrid who took the initiative.
But for Barça fans, it was a total nightmare.
Real Madrid leaned into their aerial dominance, pushing down the flanks and swinging in threatening crosses nonstop.
And it wasn't just Ronaldo and Benzema up front.
Wearing the number ten shirt, Li Ang no longer hung back like in the first half—when he occasionally pushed forward just to make a pass or deliver a through ball.
Now, he was bombing into Barça's box over and over again.
With his current physique, he still struggled to muscle past Piqué—but against any other Barça defender?
It was a massacre.
Barça fans started panicking.
Wait—why is that number ten always in our penalty area?!
Where's Busquets?! Stop him!
Problem was, Busquets was already busy trying to contain Benzema. He couldn't handle both threats at once.
So after a barrage of waves, Madrid scored their third goal in the chaos, essentially killing off the Spanish Super Cup tie in a single match.
Li Ang didn't score this time. He didn't assist either. But the way he repeatedly made Barça's defenders look helpless in attack left a deep impression on countless neutral fans.
He could sit back and anchor the defense—or surge forward and become a wrecking ball.
With that raw, aggressive style—especially those brutal headers—he had Barça's backline crying for help.
Li Ang might just be the most unrefined number ten in Real Madrid's history.
And on this wonderfully strange path of his, he was only getting more unstoppable.
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