Chapter 160: Alright, I Admit It—Li Ang Does Want the Ballon d'Or
Isco was rendered speechless by yet another round of Li Ang's cold, hard truths.
As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had no comeback.
Just look at Real Madrid today—this wasn't some rising power anymore. They weren't just the "dawn sun"; they were already noon, blazing at the absolute peak of La Liga.
Meanwhile, Barcelona, about to lose Guardiola and unsure of their next coach, unsure even if the locker room was still united, looked more and more like a sunset—beautiful, yes, but fading.
Of course, a sunset can rise again.
But who knew how long that would take?
And where would Real Madrid be by then?
A professional footballer only gets a few golden years at their peak. No one gambles lightly with transfers during that time.
If Isco hadn't already made a name for himself, he might still have jumped at the chance to join even a struggling Barcelona.
But he'd arrived now.
Even though he'd lost out to Götze in this year's Golden Boy Award, he was still Spain's own golden boy in the eyes of the fans.
Top clubs were lining up to pursue him.
And this version of Barcelona?
No matter how you looked at it, it wasn't a good place to "level up" right now.
If next summer, Real Madrid really made an offer for him…
Would he be able to turn down the chance to join Europe's current number one?
Was he really as committed to joining Barça as he believed?
His thoughts tangled like a mess of thread.
Finally, it was Li Ang who noticed how far gone he was and gave him a gentle smack to snap him out of it.
"Sigh… Little Lion, you've ruined me," Isco groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he jogged back to his half.
Li Ang stood still, blinking in confusion.
But once the match resumed, both players quickly put the conversation aside and dove back into their roles.
After scoring the opening goal, Real Madrid began slowing the tempo under the control of Li Ang and Modrić.
It drove Málaga crazy.
One side wanted to slow it down; the other wanted to speed it up.
The contrast in game plans only made the midfield battles more intense.
But again, when Real Madrid wanted to control the ball, there was only one club in Europe—maybe Barça—who could truly challenge them.
Málaga? Good, but not on Madrid's level.
And so, after deliberately disrupting the rhythm and fracturing the game, Madrid successfully dragged the 1–0 scoreline into halftime.
Mourinho was satisfied.
He especially appreciated the stable defensive performance.
Modrić's smooth integration and Matuidi's excellent coverage had him nodding with approval on the sideline.
At the end of the day, it all came down to attitude.
Matuidi had the ability to defend.
Modrić, perhaps less so—but both were willing to work.
They weren't above doing the gritty stuff.
That's the kind of mentality Mourinho loved.
As for Li Ang?
Mourinho didn't even bother complimenting him anymore. He'd done it too often.
And Li Ang was probably tired of hearing it anyway.
They didn't need to exchange words to understand each other.
A single look from Mourinho was enough—Li Ang would know whether it meant praise or criticism.
He might not have called Mourinho "dad" like Essien had, but in terms of trust and loyalty, their bond was the same.
"I know you trust me unconditionally.
And you know I'll stand by your side no matter what.
That's enough."
At halftime, Mourinho laid out the second-half tactics in the locker room.
Once he saw Li Ang nodding—his usual sign of understanding—he handed things over to Karanka to finish the briefing.
As soon as the second half began, Li Ang and Modrić resumed control of the passing game from deep.
Madrid's backline had no weak links on the ball.
Even Essien, often seen as rough around the edges, kept his short passes crisp and clean.
Málaga tried pressing high for five or six minutes straight…
But couldn't steal the ball.
Back in the commentary booth, Zhang Lu, partnering with He Wei, chuckled.
"Seems like Real Madrid's learned a trick or two from their old rivals at Barça.
This style of killing off games by controlling possession in their own half? We've seen it a lot in recent years."
Zhang Lu's line startled He Wei.
He couldn't tell if Zhang Lu didn't know about the huge news from Barça or just didn't care.
He himself wasn't senior enough to comment on that kind of situation, so he quickly changed the subject.
Fortunately, Zhang Lu didn't press the topic.
Chinese fans listening in chuckled knowingly.
If this had been 2023, forums and chat groups would've already been flooded with "protect the old man!" memes.
Those kinds of jokes didn't exist yet, but fans still playfully teased He Wei online for his caution.
With Madrid in control, everyone watching was in a good mood.
Then came the 67th minute.
Li Ang made his first forward run of the match—
A surprise diagonal through-ball—
And Ronaldo scored Madrid's second.
Cue the eruption of celebrations on Chinese sports forums.
Fresh off his Club World Cup performance, Li Ang was still turning in decisive displays in La Liga.
He was the kind of player who thrived when praised.
The more love you gave him, the better he played.
In La Liga's final match before the Christmas break, Real Madrid beat Málaga 2–0 away from home.
With 15 wins and 1 draw from 17 games (one match short due to the Club World Cup), Madrid sat second with 46 points.
Barça? Even more ridiculous.
16 wins, 1 draw.
49 points.
Top of the table.
Even with the chaos around Guardiola, they'd still won their match 2–0 against Valladolid.
Messi, who scored both goals, bid a tearful farewell to his mentor on the pitch.
Their emotional hug went viral post-match, reposted by fans and media around the globe.
Guardiola couldn't hold it in—he cried during his final press conference.
Meanwhile, back in Madrid, Mourinho used his post-match presser to send his best wishes to his old rival.
Reporters saw real emotion in his eyes.
Not sadness for Barça—
But empathy for a friend.
And those who used to believe Mourinho and Guardiola were sworn enemies?
They had no words.
Because now...
In La Liga...
There would be no more Guardiola vs. Mourinho.
※※※
As the holiday break arrived, the buzz around Guardiola's departure began to settle.
Of course, debates about his next destination and Barcelona's future lingered in the press.
But in real life, fans who once bickered endlessly online found themselves wishing each other Merry Christmas instead.
Another Christmas arrived.
And for Li Ang, it was a meaningful one.
There were plenty of club activities—
Team dinners, fan events, charity appearances.
When he visited children's hospitals and orphanages, he couldn't help but think of home.
Not Spain.
China.
Seeing those innocent faces stirred memories of the rural kids he knew growing up.
He remembered his early childhood vividly—attending a shabby village kindergarten, then a small primary school.
He moved to town in third grade with his parents, but even in their not-so-poor industrial village, many children were still just barely able to afford basic schooling.
Some families couldn't even pay a few dozen yuan in school fees and had to pull their kids out of class.
That image stayed with him.
China had developed quickly since then.
And poverty alleviation efforts had changed the lives of many.
But the country was enormous.
And in thousands of villages even poorer than his hometown, there were still countless children suffering.
That night, for only the second time since coming to Spain, Li Ang couldn't sleep.
The first time, it was because of anxiety about his future.
This time, it was for kids he'd never met.
The next morning, he instructed his assistant team to set up a charity foundation for children in need.
Then he called Mendes directly—
And told him exactly what he wanted to do.
Li Ang had already established a charity foundation in China the year before.
At the time, he pledged an annual donation of one million euros. But now, that amount felt far too little.
It wasn't enough to build more than a couple of schools, nor could it cover even a few major cities.
His income now was huge.
One million euros—about 8 million yuan—was a figure he could earn with a single one-year endorsement deal with a mid-level Chinese company.
According to Mendes' team projections, Li Ang's total post-tax income in 2012 would reach 40 million euros.
And that was after they'd carefully limited his domestic endorsements.
If they had opened the floodgates?
It wouldn't be impossible for Li Ang to double that amount.
So when Li Ang told Mendes he wanted to donate at least ten million euros annually to build schools across China, Mendes was surprised—
But not the least bit opposed.
Ten million euros was a lot—
But it depended on who was giving.
Mendes had seen countless Chinese tycoons throw money around just to get into business deals with his clients. His perception had changed.
He was now confident that within two years, Li Ang's annual income could break 100 million euros.
As long as Li Ang stayed healthy and kept performing like this, that goal was a lock.
At that point?
He could give 20 million a year to charity and Mendes wouldn't even blink.
And besides—
These acts of charity were a huge boost to Li Ang's brand.
Even without flashy promotion, the moment people saw it was real, both the Chinese public and government would embrace him.
From Mendes' perspective, spending 10 million euros a year for long-term national goodwill was a business masterstroke.
Of course, he kept that opinion to himself.
After giving Li Ang a few sincere words of praise, Mendes personally led his team to China.
He wanted to restructure the foundation and form a trustworthy financial and administrative core.
It wasn't paranoia—it was reality.
China was too big. Too many people.
In previous business dealings for Li Ang, Mendes had encountered more than a few shady operators trying to take advantage.
Everyone who understood China, understood this.
For the money to truly help people, it had to be supervised and managed with precision.
When Li Ang received the detailed proposal from Mendes, he felt a huge weight lift from his chest.
He had training to focus on.
He wouldn't be able to return to China until the summer break.
So having Mendes handle it personally gave him deep relief—and gratitude.
With his worries set aside, Li Ang refocused his short winter break on improving his long passing.
Even though the break was shorter than usual due to an early Copa del Rey match, he almost reached his target of breaking the 85 mark on his long pass rating.
He wasn't quite there, but he could feel it was close.
January 4th:
Madrid's rotation squad traveled to face Celta Vigo in the first leg of the Copa del Rey Round of 16.
Li Ang played the last 36 minutes as a sub.
But in the end, Real Madrid lost 1–2—marking their first loss of the season.
Still, the squad wasn't too concerned.
The starters had been well-rested, and they managed to score an away goal.
After the match, Mourinho gave the rotation players a couple of days off.
January 6th:
Madrid, now with a full-strength lineup, hosted Real Sociedad at the Bernabéu in La Liga's 18th round.
Sociedad were in 7th place, just three points behind 5th-place Real Betis—eager to break into the European qualification zone.
Having already been knocked out of the Copa del Rey in the fourth round, they had no midweek distractions.
Fresh off the holiday, full of energy and motivation, they gave Madrid serious problems.
If both teams had been in equal shape, things might've gone differently.
But no one anticipated Javi Prieto's explosion.
The Sociedad playmaker scored two long-range goals in the first half.
Griezmann didn't shine as brightly—Li Ang had him on lockdown again—but his movement and passing freed up Prieto to fire at will.
By halftime, Madrid were trailing 1–2 at home—a shocking scene that left fans across La Liga wide-eyed.
In the second half, Mourinho's fury lit a fire under his players.
Ronaldo and Marcelo tore through Sociedad's right side.
Prieto, who had previously dominated the midfield, was forced to retreat and help fullback Estrada defend the flank.
Meanwhile, Higuaín—subbed in for Benzema—did what strikers do best.
With Ronaldo drawing in defenders and Marcelo slicing in a low cross, Higuaín pounced and curled a brilliant volley into the net.
2–2.
But the chaos wasn't over.
Just as Madrid looked ready to turn the tide, Griezmann used Prieto's movement to find a sliver of space on the edge of the box.
He received the ball, shifted his body, and curled a stunning shot toward the far corner.
It came from well outside the penalty arc.
Li Ang hadn't expected him to shoot from that distance.
And Casillas, caught by surprise and lacking the wingspan to reach the corner, couldn't stop it.
2–3.
In the 57th minute, just three minutes after Madrid equalized, Sociedad took the lead again.
The stadium was stunned.
Madrid had never conceded three goals at home this season.
And these weren't lucky scrappy goals—
They were bangers.
One deflected off Pepe's backside.
Two were screamers from distance.
The home crowd didn't even know who to blame.
Bad luck? Great shots? Defensive lapses?
But just as morale started to dip, Mourinho made the call.
"Push up! Li Ang, Xabi—move forward!
Attack!
Attack until the last second!"
His roars from the sideline fired up the entire squad.
No retreat.
No surrender.
Just relentless offense.
Sociedad's players barely had time to enjoy their lead before a tsunami of white shirts came crashing down.
Madrid's attack pressed relentlessly, pounding at Sociedad's back line like waves against rock.
When Sociedad dropped into a low block, Madrid stopped trying to thread passes.
Instead, the likes of Ronaldo, Li Ang, and Essien began hammering shots from distance.
Marcelo and Arbeloa pushed forward like wingers, flinging crosses into the box.
Li Ang's surging runs from deep dragged defenders and freed up space for Ronaldo and Higuaín.
Sociedad tried to counter.
Griezmann and Carlos Vela nearly broke through more than once, forcing yellow cards from both Pepe and Ramos.
But Madrid didn't care.
They kept pressing.
In the 76th minute, Mourinho subbed on Nacho for Pepe.
Faster, more agile.
A better matchup for Vela and Griezmann's pace.
Varane began warming up.
If Nacho got another yellow, Mourinho would sub off Ramos. No hesitation.
This all-in mentality finally shattered Sociedad's defense.
In the 82nd minute, Di María received a switch pass from Essien, faked a shot, then slipped past Zuru Duzza into the box.
As he wound up, Inigo Martínez lunged to block.
But Di María pulled the ball back—again—and danced past him.
As goalkeeper Claudio Bravo rushed out, Di María calmly chipped the ball to the far post—
Where Ronaldo rose above everyone, crushed a header, and sent it into the empty net.
3–3.
The Bernabéu erupted.
Fans screamed, players roared, but the celebration didn't last.
Ronaldo pumped his arms wildly, shouting for more support.
Ramos clapped and ordered focus from the back.
And Li Ang?
He sprinted into the goal, scooped up the ball, and ran it back to midfield—
Because Real Madrid wasn't done.
They didn't want a draw.
They wanted the win.
The fiery unity and determination of this Real Madrid team stunned everyone watching.
They hadn't let their break dull their edge. Instead, they returned even more relentless, even more obsessed with one thing—overcoming bad luck itself.
That's not just confidence.
That's sheer dominance.
Mourinho clenched both fists on the sidelines and made one final tactical decision.
With a sharp flick of his left arm, he swung it toward Real Sociedad's half with full force.
Along with the motion came his explosive roar:
"Keep attacking!!!"
The Bernabéu went wild.
Tens of thousands of fans screamed themselves hoarse as if the roof would blow off the stadium.
And down on the pitch? Madrid's players lost all restraint.
Speed.
More speed.
Faster transitions.
More attacking phases.
Movistar's commentators and guest analysts were all shouting hoarsely by now.
Griezmann, on the other hand, desperately wanted one more counterattack.
Just one more.
If he could score, he'd become the match's undeniable protagonist.
He'd seize the spotlight.
But he couldn't run anymore.
His legs felt like they were filled with lead.
So then how?
How could those Real Madrid stars—those multimillionaire athletes, fresh off the Club World Cup—still be running like this?
Pintus, standing beside Karanka, couldn't sit still either.
He clutched Karanka's shoulder and whispered to himself, fully satisfied with the physical transformation he'd brought to this team.
"Use it, boys. Use that stamina to break your opponent."
By now, it was the 88th minute.
Real Sociedad's back line was on the verge of collapse.
But they hadn't broken yet.
Bravo, no longer charging out recklessly, stayed focused and made save after save on the line.
Even Ramos had pushed into the final third!
Xabi Alonso dropped deep to cover.
Li Ang took possession on the right side of Madrid's half and exploded past Zurutuza—using raw pace to break through the lines.
Real Sociedad's left flank crumbled under the sudden shift.
De la Bella had no choice but to step up and challenge, forcing Li Ang to release the ball wide to the overlapping Arbeloa.
But Li Ang didn't stop—he just changed direction.
He surged forward again, arriving into the box in sync with Ramos, who cut to the near post.
Ronaldo started his sprint toward the back post.
Li Ang and Higuaín burst into the middle.
Then came Arbeloa's cross.
A low, fast delivery with a slight curl.
As Ramos leapt at the near post, Bravo anticipated and began to shift—
The entire stadium held its breath.
Mourinho crouched low, eyes locked on Ramos.
But the ball flew just over Ramos's head.
Every Madrid fan in the stands felt their heart drop.
But only for 0.5 seconds.
Because two figures launched into the air in the middle of the box.
Li Ang in front.
Higuaín right behind.
Double threat.
Inigo Martínez leapt with them—
But he was a step too slow.
Li Ang launched his entire body at the ball.
The height.
The aggression.
The momentum—
It terrified Bravo.
Li Ang smashed the header like a dunk, sending Martínez stumbling backward from the sheer force.
The ball bounced off the grass toward the far corner and then shot upward into the net.
Bravo's glove arrived—too late.
Too. Damn. Late.
"Ramos missed! Li Ang—THE HEADER!!!
OH MY GOD—IT'S IN—IT'S IN!!!!
LI ANG! LI ANG WITH THE LAST-MINUTE WINNER!!!
INCREDIBLE! UNBELIEVABLE!
LI ANG SHATTERED REAL MADRID'S CURSE TONIGHT!!!
4–3!!!
Real Madrid has snatched every last shred of hope from Real Sociedad in the final moments of regular time!!!
This is Real Madrid!!!
This is Mourinho's Real Madrid!!!"
The Bernabéu was shaking.
Li Ang scrambled to his feet and ripped off his shirt, sprinting in a frenzy across the pitch.
Every Madrid player followed.
Not just those on the field—even the bench cleared.
Mourinho couldn't run as fast anymore, but even he charged down the line, passion in every step.
Li Ang was tackled from behind by his teammates—
All of them screaming in unison, collapsing into a pile of ecstatic bodies.
Real Sociedad's players stood frozen, hands on hips, chins tucked to their chests.
They had led 2–1, then 3–2.
They had been in front almost the entire match—only to be equalized and then beaten in the final seconds.
The psychological blow was devastating.
They had scored three goals at the Bernabéu—and it still wasn't enough.
Griezmann bit his lip, unwilling to accept it.
When the match restarted, he still chased the impossible.
Until the final whistle blew.
The Bernabéu erupted again.
But everyone knew the fans weren't celebrating a win over Real Sociedad.
They were celebrating a win over fate.
If Madrid could win this match—what challenge could possibly stop them now?
The second-half of the season's supervillain Madrid?
Yeah, they'd just made their entrance.
After the match, Li Ang couldn't contain his emotions.
He ran to the stands, waving both arms, hyping the crowd to cheer even louder.
His teammates dragged him back into the victory huddle.
The miracle comeback had shaken all of Europe.
Clips of Madrid's last 20 minutes went viral among fans of other elite clubs—
All of them stunned by the intensity and insanity of that finale.
The perfect prelude to FIFA's 2013 Ballon d'Or Gala on January 7th.
Real Madrid's starting eleven would all attend.
Mourinho too, of course.
Before the ceremony, Li Ang met many familiar faces—
And a new one.
A young talent still playing in Brazil, already linked to both Real Madrid and Barcelona.
The breakout star everyone was watching.
Neymar.
They were both newcomers to this kind of event.
Both young.
Both spoke the same language.
Naturally, they hit it off.
But when the ceremony started, both could only smile politely and sit quietly in front of the cameras.
As expected, Real Madrid and the Spanish national team swept most of the night's awards.
Mourinho was crowned Coach of the Year.
Ronaldo took home his second Ballon d'Or.
Madrid had seven players named in the FIFA FIFPro World XI.
Li Ang, however, wasn't among them.
He couldn't surpass the midfield trio of Xavi, Iniesta, and Alonso.
The European Championship had weighed heavily in the voting.
Had there been no international tournament in 2012, he might have made it.
But now, all he could do was smile and applaud.
There was, however, one small consolation—
He placed 18th in the Ballon d'Or rankings.
That was higher than he had expected.
Chinese media at the event were thrilled.
But Li Ang's eyes weren't on his rank.
They were locked on the Ballon d'Or trophy in Ronaldo's hands.
He'd thought he'd be cool about it.
That he wouldn't care.
But standing here now?
Yeah... he wanted it.
He really wanted it.
Get 30% off on my Patreon and enjoy early access to new chapters.
You can also purchase the next 100 chapters of the novel directly from my Patreon page.
Hurry up! The promotion ends on January 2, 2026.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/johanssen10