Chapter 256: The Counterattack Begins Now!
Messi's goal was like a floodgate bursting open, unleashing a wave of cheers and emotional release from Barcelona fans who had long bottled up their frustration from repeated letdowns at the hands of Li Ang.
And truth be told, it was a beautiful goal.
Even though Messi wasn't matched up directly against Li Ang this time, he still went one-on-one with the Premier League's best defensive midfielder—Nemanja Matić.
And he made it look as easy as sipping water. The way he shook off Matić and curled that shot in… that was class.
This was Messi being Messi.
One of only two players in world football capable of dismantling elite defenses on his own, Messi had just perfectly demonstrated both his tactical value and individual brilliance.
Only then, after scoring, did Messi finally respond to Li Ang for the first time all match.
A sly little wink.
The broadcast cameras didn't catch it, but Li Ang saw it clearly. He even noticed the faint smile peeking out beneath Messi's beard.
"He did that on purpose. That was definitely on purpose!"
Li Ang shouted inwardly, frustrated beyond measure.
But what could he say? Messi had drawn first blood tonight, leading his team ahead.
In that moment, Li Ang got a real taste of what Messi had endured over the past two seasons—watching Real Madrid take the lead time and again, helpless to stop it.
The truth was, Messi always played well in those El Clásico clashes. His performances were never poor.
But unless he exploded into one of his freakishly dominant displays, Barça would always be forced to follow Madrid's lead.
That sense of being powerless, despite doing nothing wrong… it stung.
And more often than not, the one responsible for creating that scenario was Li Ang.
So now, seeing Li Ang's annoyed, helpless expression, Messi finally felt some relief.
"So, it's your turn now, huh?"
He celebrated joyfully with his teammates, relishing the moment. But to Messi's surprise, Li Ang didn't dwell on it as long as expected.
After muttering a few complaints to himself, Li Ang composed himself and returned to his half, rallying his teammates alongside Terry.
Sure, he was frustrated—but giving up when things got tough? That was not who Li Ang was.
First, he approached Matić and offered him a few words of encouragement.
However, he didn't bother teaching Matić any special "how to stop Messi" techniques.
Because, let's face it—Matić was taller and less agile. His turning speed was inferior. Even if Li Ang shared all his secrets, Matić wouldn't be able to execute them the same way.
What they needed instead were more practical solutions.
Forget one-on-one—go straight to double-teaming.
And if that didn't work? Foul him.
"As long as it's not reckless or dangerous, the ref won't call everything. Just throw in little disruptions—interrupt his momentum and shooting rhythm.
If he gets past you, block his path inside. Force him wide. I'll be tracking back more to help out…"
With that quick briefing, Li Ang stepped away, trusting that Matić would cooperate more with Ramires to keep Messi in check.
Sánchez and Neymar were dangerous too, no doubt. But neither of them could turn a game on its head the way Messi could. For now, they could afford to pay a bit less attention to the other two.
Being down a goal, Li Ang couldn't afford to retreat deeper to shadow Messi.
What Chelsea needed more than anything right now was attack—an equalizer.
So falling back wasn't an option. Not yet. Not until they were back on level terms.
Mourinho, unsurprisingly, had reached the same conclusion.
With the team trailing, there was no room for Li Ang to drop into defense. Chelsea had to double down on the attack.
But how they attacked—that could change.
This wasn't the peak Barcelona of a few years ago, but still—going toe-to-toe at Camp Nou in a wide-open game? Not smart.
So Mourinho quickly gave a tactical signal from the sideline.
Chelsea's players saw it and subtly adjusted their positions.
And as play resumed, commentators and fans alike noticed the change: Hazard and De Bruyne had both dropped deeper.
Li Ang, with Ibrahimović's help, began applying more direct pressure on Barcelona's midfield brain—Xavi.
This kind of in-game tactical tweak was classic Mourinho.
Still, for Barcelona, losing Xavi to man-marking didn't cripple them.
They had Busquets, Iniesta, even Piqué—all capable of carrying and distributing the ball. Alves, too, could tuck inside to help out.
So after a brief adjustment, Barcelona picked up the tempo again, eager to extend their lead.
It was clear that coach Gerardo Martino came into this game with real ambition.
He valued offensive initiative and was determined to build on their early lead quickly.
If it had been Guardiola on the sideline tonight, things might've looked very different.
Pep would've instructed his players to slow things down—to lure Chelsea out, force them to commit numbers forward, and then exploit the mistakes.
Had that been the case, Chelsea would've been in serious trouble.
Thankfully, Martino wasn't playing those kinds of mind games. He wanted aggression. He wanted more goals.
And seeing Barça continue to push forward, searching eagerly for the second goal, Li Ang felt reassured.
The deeper positioning of Hazard and De Bruyne was already paying off.
They dropped back to support Bertrand and Azpilicueta, helping to absorb Barcelona's wide attacks.
With the flanks covered, Matić and Ramires could concentrate fully on protecting the vulnerable half-spaces in front of the box.
Li Ang wasn't going to chase back all the way to the penalty area—but he could absolutely control the space around the center circle and the attacking third.
And having just told Matić to commit tactical fouls if needed, Li Ang made sure to set the tone himself.
Not by fouling Messi, though.
His target? Andrés Iniesta—the engine behind Barcelona's rhythm.
From the 8th to the 15th minute, Li Ang picked up two fouls.
Beyond that, he repeatedly used subtle, disruptive touches—nothing dangerous, just infuriatingly annoying.
It was vintage nuisance defending. Low damage, high irritation.
The relentless interruptions reminded Iniesta of something—Barcelona's first league match against Atlético this season.
Back then, Atleti's four-man midfield had made life hell for him and Xavi.
The fractured rhythm, the brutal duels, the willingness to take cards—he remembered it all vividly.
Now, Li Ang was doing the exact same thing. And it wasn't coincidence.
Iniesta quickly realized—Li Ang must've studied that match in detail. He knew exactly how to break Barcelona's tempo.
In the 18th minute, after getting pulled down by Li Ang again, Iniesta finally snapped and complained to the ref.
Other Barça players swarmed too—but the referee was quick to blow his whistle and wave them off sternly.
Li Ang grinned behind the ref's back. He wasn't stupid—he'd tested the ref's tolerance early in the game and had a read on how much he could get away with.
When the referee turned and gave him a warning glare, Li Ang quickly dropped the smile and followed him to the side.
"Watch your tackles. I'm keeping count of your fouls. If it adds up, I won't hesitate to reach for my card."
"Understood, sir. My bad. Just got a bit too into it—I'll be more careful from now on."
Messi, who had wandered over and overheard the exchange, rolled his eyes hard.
If it were any other Chelsea player saying that, he might've believed them.
But coming from Li Ang? He didn't need to think twice—complete lies.
Sure enough, once play resumed and Neymar dropped back to receive a pass in midfield, Li Ang was on him in a flash.
No restraint. No subtlety.
Neymar, still lacking Iniesta's experience, fell hard and a little too theatrically—his dive a bit too exaggerated, his reaction a little too fast…
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