Chapter 260: The Red Devils Are Dead—Long Live the Blues!
"Premier League Pride—Chelsea Return to the Champions League Semifinals!"
"One Last Stand of the Old Boys!"
"The Iron-Blooded Blues Reawaken in Europe!"
"Li Ang: Not Just the Premier League's Best!"
…
After eliminating Barcelona 3–1 on aggregate to advance to this season's Champions League semifinals, Chelsea were showered with praise across the English media.
With the Premier League title race all but decided, many sports outlets in England began summing up the key factors behind Chelsea's stunning resurgence this season.
Attributing it all to smart spending wouldn't cut it.
After all, Manchester City and Paris Saint-Germain had thrown around just as much—if not more—cash in the transfer market over the past few years.
But neither of them pulled off what Chelsea did: a complete transformation in a single summer window.
From finishing third in the league and failing to make the Champions League Round of 16, to (likely) Premier League champions and Champions League semifinalists—this kind of leap couldn't be explained away by €100 million alone.
If money alone could bridge that gap, at least ten clubs across Europe would gladly fork it over.
The real difference lay in vision at the top—and personnel execution.
Chelsea's current management, along with the double impact of Mourinho and Li Ang, deserved full credit for rebuilding the club so decisively.
In contrast, Arsenal's boardroom was in disarray. Ongoing disputes between major shareholders meant Wenger was forced to seek stability amidst chaos.
PSG didn't have ownership drama, but their upper management had a nasty habit of meddling in football operations and showed little patience with their coaching staff.
City, also backed by oil money, took a much more measured approach.
After landing Pep Guardiola last summer, Manchester City kicked off a complete structural overhaul.
Importantly, the board gave Guardiola full authority and trusted his football expertise.
They believed in putting professionals in charge of professional matters.
Yes, they had money—but they didn't throw it around blindly. They built steadily in the Premier League before turning their attention to Europe.
If they stayed that course, City's rise to the elite was only a matter of time.
Chelsea's stroke of luck?
Mourinho struck first—snatching Li Ang, a player once destined to be Real Madrid's future captain and midfield general.
To this day, fans were still stunned at the transformation Li Ang had undergone.
And now, the €80 million Chelsea spent to trigger his release clause last summer was widely regarded by Blues fans as the best-value signing of the window.
Yes, even for that price tag.
Li Ang was now closing in on a 30+30 season. That's right—nearly 30 goals and 30 assists.
Last season at Madrid, he managed just 14 goals and 13 assists.
This year, in a completely new league, tasked with being the focal point of both attack and defense, he had doubled those numbers.
His development curve was outright terrifying.
Had someone asked Florentino Pérez about the deal last summer, he would've likely smiled through gritted teeth and refused to answer.
But now? If asked again, he'd probably admit it straight up—he regretted it.
Back then, Li Ang hadn't yet fulfilled his potential. Pérez had high hopes for him, yes, but he wasn't about to sacrifice Cristiano Ronaldo for a budding talent.
Now? Things had changed.
Li Ang had proven his ability to dominate both ends of the pitch in the Premier League.
A midfielder with 30 goals and 30 assists?
Since the turn of the century, only one player had ever reached that insane level.
A familiar name: Lionel Messi.
Back in 2011–12, Messi hit his personal peak with an absurd 70 goals and 30 assists across all competitions.
That was the pinnacle of individual footballing achievement.
He didn't win the league or the Golden Boot that year—Mourinho's Real Madrid won the treble.
But Messi's numbers remained iconic, legendary, impossible to ignore.
Even he would struggle to match them again.
Which only underscored how hard it was to hit 30+30.
Now Li Ang was knocking on that door.
Yes, Madrid had lost him. But the future was unwritten.
He was only 23—his prime was still two to three years away.
So Florentino wouldn't let pride close the door on a possible return.
That said, if things stayed the same for the next two or three seasons, Li Ang was likely to stay at Chelsea, building a dynasty with Mourinho.
Just like Mourinho did with Real Madrid in 2010–11, using the first year to establish a system and lay a foundation.
Once the midfield and striker situation was sorted, it was time to collect trophies.
Without a reliable striker or a commanding defensive midfielder, Mourinho's teams often struggled under the weight of his tactics.
But this Chelsea team had both—so with silverware on the horizon, lift-off was just a matter of time.
If fans were worried about anything, it was the relationship between Mourinho and the board.
After all, his first stint at Chelsea had ended because of a breakdown with Abramovich.
But this time?
The day after Chelsea advanced to the semifinals, media outlets published photos from the victory dinner: Abramovich and Mourinho laughing and joking like old friends.
That put the fanbase at ease.
Still, Chelsea's starters didn't get much rest.
The FA had allowed Arsenal and Hull City to postpone their next league matches ahead of the FA Cup semifinal.
Manchester United benefitted too—their next league match was against Hull, so they got a break as well.
But Chelsea?
No such luck.
They had to face Swansea on April 13th in Matchday 34 of the Premier League.
Even with the good mood from their Champions League triumph, the congested schedule had the players grumbling.
On April 10th, Chelsea's starters finished their recovery session.
That evening, the final two Champions League quarterfinal second legs kicked off.
Real Madrid, having won the first leg 3–0 over Dortmund, nearly blew it.
They lost 1–3 in the return match and needed a last-minute goal from Sergio Ramos to avoid extra time.
If that match had gone on, and with Dortmund's momentum, Madrid might've actually been eliminated.
It was a wake-up call for everyone at the Bernabéu.
Dortmund lost, but they earned respect.
Meanwhile, Manchester United were a total letdown.
After losing 2–0 away to Atlético in the first leg, they returned to Old Trafford and were beaten again—another 2–0 loss.
No fightback. No drama. Just elimination.
The Red Devils were dead.
Long live the Blues.
Let's just say it—Manchester United lost to Atlético without putting up a fight.
Their midfield was completely shredded by Atlético's press, and the defense couldn't withstand Diego Costa's relentless assaults.
"Pretty Boy" Costa scored twice over the two legs, boosting his transfer value with a brutal display of striker instinct.
But to be fair, for Moyes to even take United into the Champions League quarterfinals this season was already an overachievement.
Most United fans agreed—just reaching the last eight in Europe was more than enough for their expectations.
However, their current seventh-place standing in the Premier League—unable to even crack the top six—left Moyes' future very uncertain.
English media were already buzzing with reports that United's board had begun scouring the market for a new manager.
Rumors were everywhere.
Any coach with a recognizable name and even a remote chance of being poached was suddenly being linked with United.
Oddly enough, this gave some United fans hope.
Little did they know, from next season onward, United would embark on a long, winding, and fruitless "resurgence" journey.
And Mourinho? There was a 99% chance he wouldn't be diving into that mess.
Which meant that the small treble United once proudly boasted might just remain a one-time anomaly...
Li Ang had zero interest in United's future, even if some of the chaos had been triggered by his own butterfly effects.
Like every Chelsea player, his full attention was now on the next Premier League match against Swansea—and watching to see if title rivals Manchester City would stumble.
City were about to face Liverpool at Anfield—a massive clash between second and third place.
Until now, it had always been City lying in wait for Chelsea to slip.
This time, finally, the roles were reversed.
If City lost to Liverpool, and Chelsea beat Swansea, the Blues would clinch the title with four matches still to spare.
This was the scenario every Chelsea fan had been dreaming of.
But Chelsea's squad had come so far this season—they were ice cold in their mindset now.
Li Ang didn't think it was wise to pin too much hope on their rivals failing.
Better to win your own matches. That's what you can control.
Anyway, it was just two more wins.
Swansea this round, Sunderland next. Favorable fixtures—just get it done.
On the afternoon of April 12th, Matchday 34 of the Premier League kicked off.
Tottenham, in the early game, were surprisingly held to a 3–3 draw by relegation-battling West Brom.
A major upset—and one that sent gamblers into a frenzy.
Other top-six clubs were now on full alert.
Everton and Southampton, who played later, both edged out 1–0 wins.
In fact, aside from the high-scoring Spurs draw, every other match on the day ended 1–0.
Clearly, matches were getting tighter. Players' stamina was fading as the season wore on.
But the energy shown by relegation-fighting teams was truly something to behold.
Swansea, who sat 17th and just three points above the drop zone, were absolutely still in the survival battle.
After seeing what West Brom just pulled off, Chelsea knew they couldn't underestimate anyone.
Mourinho, ever the meticulous planner, even held an extra tactical meeting with his coaching staff the night before the match.
There was one major upside for Chelsea going into the game: City vs. Liverpool would kick off before theirs.
So even if Chelsea weren't counting on a City collapse, they'd know the result before stepping onto the pitch.
April 13th, 1:35 p.m.—at a raucous Anfield, Liverpool kicked off and immediately pressed City hard.
Chelsea, still in their hotel, watched as the first half unfolded.
Li Ang and his teammates saw Liverpool dominate the early stages—but fail to score.
That's always a worrying sign.
Any seasoned player can tell you what that kind of match usually means.
Privately, Li Ang had already started imagining the worst: City surviving the pressure and scoring a late goal to snatch the win.
"Come on, Suárez. Don't go quiet on us. You too, Sturridge. If you boys knock out City, I'll treat you to a three-day party in London…"
On the bus to Swansea's Liberty Stadium, Bertrand was muttering under his breath.
Li Ang and the others chuckled at the idea.
To be fair, Bertrand would probably do something like that.
Mourinho, seated up front, laughed and threw in a few jokes of his own.
If Suárez and Sturridge really did the job and took down City, Bertrand wouldn't even have to pay—the club would gladly host them for a celebration in London.
"Enough dreaming. Focus on ourselves. Worst case, we win today and then again next round against Sunderland. If that happens, I'll take care of the three-day party."
Li Ang clapped and spoke with a grin—immediately prompting wild howls of excitement from the younger players.
Any lingering tension evaporated.
Up front, Mourinho gave Li Ang a thumbs-up.
He didn't say anything else, just mentally cleared out all thoughts of City's match.
After arriving at the stadium and changing into his kit, Li Ang led the team through the final pre-match warmups.
Time ticked by.
Just before the warmup ended, a sudden wave of noise swept through the Liberty Stadium.
The Chelsea players turned toward the away end.
From their own fans' section, the commotion quickly transformed into loud, ecstatic cheering.
That could only mean one thing.
Chelsea's players rushed into the tunnel.
And in the dressing room, they finally heard the news they had been praying for:
"Liverpool won 2–1! Suárez scored the winner at the death! Boys, it's all in your hands now!"
Assistant coach Holland's voice echoed like a trumpet call.
In the Liberty Stadium away dressing room, the roar of celebration from the Chelsea squad was thunderous.
Even Li Ang, usually calm, couldn't contain himself.
He wrapped his arms around his teammates, pounding their backs and shouting in joy.
But the rational part of his brain quickly kicked back in.
Mourinho stepped forward, clapping to gather attention, reminding everyone to stay focused.
Yes, City had slipped.
Yes, the title was within reach.
But only if Chelsea beat Swansea.
The players were fired up. They couldn't wait to get on the pitch and tear Swansea apart.
But tactically, Mourinho emphasized caution.
"Even if we play conservatively in the first half, we must stay solid in defense. Do not give Swansea any space to threaten us.
Take your time. No rushing. The win will come..."
Mourinho's final instructions were clear.
Li Ang flashed him a reassuring thumbs-up.
After calming their excitement, the squad lined up and followed the officials out for the pre-match ceremony.
At the end of the tunnel, Li Ang and Terry brought the group together one last time.
"Let's finish it today, lads."
Chelsea were awarded kickoff, and as the referee blew his whistle, they quickly spread out into formation, launching an aggressive probe against the hosts, Swansea.
Whether it was because they'd already heard about Manchester City's defeat, Swansea came out with a clearly passive approach—sitting deep, looking like they had no desire to become an obstacle on Chelsea's path to the title.
But in Li Ang's eyes, this strategy was downright foolish.
Whether Swansea chose to attack or defend didn't really matter—Chelsea simply outclassed them in every aspect. The gap in quality was too wide.
Li Ang had actually been more concerned about Swansea flooding midfield with bodies, trying to disrupt Chelsea's rhythm and break up play.
But now? They were just handing him space to operate. Letting him organize without pressure?
Li Ang was amused. He gave a tactical signal, gesturing for both full-backs to push higher.
If Swansea wanted a positional battle, fine—Chelsea would crush them properly.
Trying to lure Chelsea into a half-court game?
Please. That was like a mouse walking into a lion's den.
After calmly bringing the ball past midfield and pressing up to Swansea's defensive line, Li Ang began rotating possession to both flanks, drawing their midfielders out.
On paper, Swansea's 4-2-3-1 left them with decent numbers in midfield when they dropped back.
But if you looked past the numbers, the flaws were obvious.
Swansea under Laudrup played passing football, Spanish-style possession. Their squad was built for technical flair—not for parking the bus.
Guys like Routledge and Nathan Dyer had speed and attacking instincts, but defensively? Not much.
They could follow instructions and press zones, but lacked the instincts and toughness needed for a deep block.
Defensive compactness was Chelsea's specialty. They were the masters of the low block.
And because they understood it so well, they also knew exactly how to break it.
De Bruyne and Hazard rotated frequently on the flanks, constantly testing Swansea's width.
Azpilicueta and Bertrand overlapped aggressively, dragging defenders wide.
If they made it to the byline, Chelsea had three targets in the box—Ibrahimović, Lampard, and Li Ang.
And if Bertrand whipped in a cross from the left, Azpilicueta often surged in diagonally from the right—he wasn't weak in the air either. He could win headers against forwards, let alone wingers.
Even if the ball didn't go wide, Chelsea had Lampard and Li Ang in central midfield to recycle possession quickly and effectively.
Swansea's back line might hold up for a while, but not all game.
Eventually, cracks would appear.
If they were strong enough to resist Chelsea's full-strength attack, they wouldn't be sitting just above the relegation zone after 33 matches.
Li Ang dictated the rhythm with patience, waiting for the right moment.
In many ways, he reminded himself of Pirlo—calm, calculating, always looking for the perfect trigger.
The only difference was, unlike Pirlo, Li Ang had the legs to surge forward himself.
In the 24th minute, after a stretch of almost casual control, he finally saw his chance.
Lampard stole the ball from Swansea's attacking midfielder, Hernández, near the center circle.
Li Ang instantly abandoned his deep-lying role, bolting toward Swansea's box.
He didn't even need to call for it—Lampard sent it forward right away.
Hernández's turnover opened up a gaping hole in Swansea's midfield.
Facing two slow defensive midfielders, Li Ang blew past Leon Britton like he was standing still.
Shelvey was still on his way over when Li Ang sent the ball to De Bruyne on the right.
Now unmarked, De Bruyne cut inside and drove straight into the box.
Ashley Williams stepped out to challenge him.
Ibrahimović's run forced Flores to backpedal, leaving space open.
De Bruyne rolled a simple horizontal pass.
It looked innocuous—until the camera caught Li Ang arriving at the top of the box, cocking his leg.
"De Bruyne lays it across—Li Ang takes a touch—he shoots!!!"
Commentator Zhan Jun was practically yelling in the Sina Sports studio.
Li Ang settled the ball perfectly to his right and blasted a shot that ripped past Vorm before the keeper even reacted.
Mourinho leapt from the dugout, pumping his fist and holding up three fingers for all to see.
His third Premier League title was within reach.
It was cocky. Arrogant. Pure Mourinho.
Swansea's fans were furious—but powerless.
The Sky Sports commentators couldn't stop praising Li Ang.
And he deserved it.
All season long—Premier League, Champions League, you name it—Li Ang had been the one to open the scoring and break deadlocks for Chelsea.
This was no different.
Now that Chelsea had the lead, Swansea's deep block meant nothing.
Laudrup, hands on hips, gave a resigned smile.
Once Chelsea finished celebrating, Swansea kicked off and switched gears.
They gave up on defending.
If they were going to lose, they'd go down swinging.
And when they played freely, Swansea showed surprising energy and cohesion.
Li Ang nodded to himself—he had underestimated them.
But respect was one thing.
The title was on the line.
And Li Ang? He showed no mercy.
In the 39th minute, Hazard burst into the box after receiving a pass from Li Ang.
A quick cross, and Ibrahimović slammed it home at the far post.
2–0.
Early in the second half, in the 49th minute, Swansea struck back.
Wilfried Bony scored his 16th league goal of the season—well beyond what pundits had predicted in August.
But just as Swansea started dreaming of a comeback, Chelsea answered.
Three minutes later, De Bruyne finished off a clever through ball from Li Ang with a low shot into the corner.
3–1.
Then, in the 67th minute, Lukaku—on as a sub for Hazard—finished a headed flick from Ibrahimović, burying Chelsea's fourth.
At that moment, all of London exploded with joy.
It was done.
After four long years, Chelsea were Premier League champions again.
The rebuilding project was complete.
Even neutral fans had to admit: Chelsea's rise had been fast.
At a time when Manchester United's empire had crumbled and the league seemed up for grabs,
the Iron-Blooded Blues returned—with Mourinho at the helm, and Li Ang as the beating heart.
The Red Devils were dead.
The Blues now ruled.
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