Chapter 320: Facing Bayern in the Semis—A Wembley London Derby Awaits
"The ball's in! Leon buries the penalty with precision, and Chelsea score again! The aggregate is now 2–0!
Juventus are hanging by a thread! No matter what tactical cards Allegri is still hiding, he has to reveal them now!"
Zhan Jun, trying to contain his excitement, kept his commentary sounding somewhat neutral on the surface.
But General Fan, today's special guest in PPTV's live studio, had no such restraint.
Leon had now scored in both legs of the knockout tie—a clutch performer of the highest caliber.
Both Fan and analyst Zhang Lu were quick to praise him, without a hint of reservation.
"That's 10 Champions League goals! Ten goals and eight assists—Leon is still the top goal contributor in this tournament!"
"This season, Leon might end up as the top scorer in both the Premier League and the Champions League. And he's already guaranteed to be the top assist provider!
As for goals, he's just one behind Cristiano Ronaldo now. He can definitely catch up!"
Zhang Lu's bold prediction didn't even sound like a jinx to Chinese fans anymore.
Cristiano's scoring efficiency in Europe had dipped compared to previous seasons.
With Xabi Alonso aging and Matuidi out for the season, Real Madrid's midfield was paper-thin.
They were practically relying on Casemiro alone to hold it together defensively.
Modrić had been inconsistent, and when Madrid's midfield couldn't dominate, Ronaldo's opportunities naturally dried up.
Sure, he still scored easily in La Liga against mid-tier teams, but in the Champions League—where everyone targets him—his influence waned.
Messi and Neymar, both eliminated earlier by Leon's Chelsea, had also racked up eight goals apiece.
Now, only Ronaldo stood between Leon and the Champions League Golden Boot.
Real Madrid had comfortably dispatched Manchester City 5–3 on aggregate, but Ronaldo had only managed one goal across two legs.
City focused entirely on shutting him down—even if it meant giving Benzema and Bale more room.
Their strategy worked. What knocked them out was Bale and Marcelo going nuclear in the second leg, combining for three goals and sealing the tie.
It was hard not to feel bad for Guardiola.
Two seasons, two rotten draws.
But back to Leon—
With Ronaldo slowed, and this match still ongoing, Leon had a real shot at overtaking him.
One more goal, and he'd be tied for the Golden Boot lead.
He wasn't going to ignore a personal accolade that was this close.
If Juventus dared to keep pushing and left space at the back, Leon would take the shot.
Still, after his penalty celebration, he immediately called his teammates back, telling them to refocus on defense.
Juventus would now be forced to press high—they had no choice.
Leon's instincts were sharp. The match wasn't over.
Mourinho sat calmly on the bench, watching Leon organize the team's shape.
He nodded in quiet satisfaction.
Call it luck. Call it tactics.
Chelsea were in complete control.
And unless destiny had one hell of a twist left in store, they weren't going to lose this.
Some fans still thought Chelsea should press harder and kill the tie with another goal or two.
But Mourinho didn't care.
Stabilizing the midfield was his only priority now.
The calmer Mourinho appeared, the more rattled Juventus became.
Pirlo and Buffon stayed composed, but the rest of Juve's young squad grew anxious.
Even they couldn't deny it—the game was slipping away.
It took Allegri's hairdryer treatment to snap them back to reality.
He stormed to the touchline and unleashed a furious tirade.
Vidal and Pogba snapped to attention.
Pirlo seized the moment to reestablish rhythm.
No more reckless charges into Chelsea's defensive block.
But time was already short.
They couldn't wait until halftime to regroup.
Allegri and his assistant huddled, then made their move in the 30th minute.
They would shift focus to the flanks.
Attacking Chelsea through the middle wasn't working.
No team this season had succeeded that way.
So now—Evra and Lichtsteiner began bombing forward.
Kingsley Coman, not even 19 yet, took off his bib and joined the warm-up.
A smart decision.
Chelsea had demolished everyone who tried to attack them through the middle.
Juve's famous diamond midfield had brought them great success all season.
But Allegri knew it was time to adapt—or be eliminated.
As Juve's flanks came alive, their attacks improved.
Pogba and Vidal no longer rammed into Chelsea's wall—they flowed, stretched the defense.
Pirlo dictated from the center, sending diagonal balls to both sides.
But Chelsea still had their ace.
Leon saw Juve's momentum building, and he made his call.
He dropped deeper—way deeper.
And with that, Chelsea deployed their three-man midfield wall.
Leon, Matic, and Kroos locked it down.
No team had ever broken this wall and lived to tell the tale.
No team had ever overturned a deficit at Stamford Bridge while facing it.
"The goal stands! Leon's clinical penalty puts Chelsea ahead once more! The aggregate is now 2–0!
Juventus are teetering on the edge—whatever tactical cards Allegri has left, he'll have to show them now!"
Zhan Jun tried to contain his excitement and keep the tone neutral on air.
But in the PPTV studio, guest commentator Fan Zhiyi didn't bother with formalities.
Two goals in two knockout legs—Leon was proving to be unstoppably clutch.
Both Fan and analyst Zhang Lu lavished praise on him with no hesitation.
"That's his 10th goal in the Champions League! With 10 goals and 8 assists, Leon is still leading all players in goal contributions by a wide margin!"
"He could finish as both top scorer and assist king in the Premier League and the Champions League! Right now he's just one goal behind Cristiano Ronaldo—he can absolutely catch up!"
Zhang Lu's bold declaration didn't feel like a jinx—not to Chinese fans.
Leon's stats were simply too monstrous to doubt.
Meanwhile, Cristiano's scoring touch in Europe had cooled off.
Madrid's midfield was aging, and with Matuidi injured long-term, Casemiro was carrying the defensive load alone.
Modrić had been inconsistent, and without midfield dominance, even Ronaldo struggled to find space.
He could still feast in La Liga, sure—but in the Champions League, everyone was targeting him.
Messi and Neymar? Already eliminated by Leon's Chelsea.
Now, Ronaldo was the last major obstacle in Leon's quest for the Golden Boot.
Madrid had dispatched Manchester City 5–3 on aggregate, but Ronaldo had only scored once.
City had suffocated him and made everyone else beat them.
Ironically, it worked—until Bale and Marcelo exploded in the second leg and buried City.
Guardiola, once again, ran into bad luck.
Ronaldo's rhythm had been disrupted—and Leon was closing in.
And the match against Juventus wasn't over yet.
If Leon scored again tonight, he'd tie Cristiano at the top of the leaderboard.
A personal honor so close—of course he was going for it.
If Juventus left themselves open, he'd strike again.
But after his celebration, Leon calmly instructed his teammates to stay compact.
Yes, he wanted goals—but not at the expense of control.
Chelsea needed to lock this game down first.
Juventus would push. They had to.
And if they overcommitted, then maybe—maybe—Leon would get one more chance.
Mourinho sat back on the bench, content.
Leon was still leading and organizing like a field general.
At this point, say it was good fortune or brilliant tactics—either way, Chelsea were dictating the game.
Only a miracle could turn it now.
Some fans insisted Chelsea should push for more goals.
But Mourinho only cared about protecting the midfield.
His composure fed Chelsea's discipline.
The more calm and patient Chelsea looked, the more flustered Juventus became.
Pirlo and Buffon remained composed, but the younger Juve players were visibly rattled.
Allegri had to step in.
The "hairdryer treatment" came out.
Screaming from the touchline, he snapped Vidal and Pogba out of their daze.
Pirlo reasserted tempo.
No more blind charges into Chelsea's wall.
Still, there wasn't time to wait for halftime.
So in the 30th minute, Allegri made his move—
A tactical shift to emphasize wing play.
The middle was a dead end.
Nobody beat Chelsea there.
Evra and Lichtsteiner surged forward.
Kingsley Coman, not even 19 years old, shed his warm-up vest.
He joined the subs warming up, ready to come on.
It was the right call.
Chelsea had humiliated every team that dared attack them through the middle.
Juve's diamond midfield had served them well.
But Allegri knew—adapt or die.
Once they opened up the wings, Juventus improved.
Pogba and Vidal stopped slamming their heads into Chelsea's wall.
Pirlo found space to spread the ball wide and stretch the defense.
But Chelsea had one more trump card.
Seeing Juve's attack click into gear, Leon dropped deeper.
And with that, Chelsea deployed the three-man midfield wall—Leon, Matic, Kroos.
The final form.
The Iron Curtain.
No team had broken this shape all season.
No team had come to Stamford Bridge and reversed a deficit against it.
The match slowed.
Juventus clawed, but couldn't penetrate.
Time ticked down.
Even when Llorente came on in the final moments, Juve couldn't crack the wall.
After four minutes of added time, the final whistle blew.
Stamford Bridge erupted.
Chelsea were in the Champions League semifinals again—for the second year running.
But this time, fans believed it wouldn't end there.
Chelsea beat Juventus 2–0 on aggregate and claimed the final spot in the UCL final four.
Just minutes earlier, Atlético Madrid had beaten Arsenal 2–1, winning the tie 3–1.
With that, the 2024 Champions League semifinal lineup was set:
Real Madrid. Atlético Madrid. Bayern Munich. Chelsea.
The Madrid giants would battle to uphold La Liga's pride.
Bayern, the defending champions, hunted a repeat.
Chelsea?
They were back. And they were coming for everything.
The quarterfinals were over.
Three days later, the semifinal draw took place in Switzerland.
UEFA's new format meant there was no predetermined bracket.
Every round was a fresh draw.
Every opponent unknown—until the balls were pulled.
This added tension to the final stretch.
Leon, this time, played it smart with the press.
"I don't want to face Real Madrid—unless it's in the final," he said with a smile.
No taunting. No jabs.
Just quiet confidence.
UEFA didn't rush the inevitable.
The draw didn't pit Real Madrid and Chelsea against each other just yet.
Instead, fate delivered another grudge match.
Madrid Derby in one semi.
Chelsea vs. Bayern in the other.
The draw Bayern fans feared most.
The rematch Chelsea had been waiting for.
Last season, Bayern crushed Chelsea in the semis—ending their dream.
But this year, Chelsea were stronger.
And they were ready to rise from where they fell.
Leon welcomed the challenge.
He had made it his mission to beat every league champion this year.
And if he could meet Real Madrid in the final—perfect.
On April 26, Chelsea faced Aston Villa in the FA Cup semifinal.
One match. Winner takes all.
Chelsea didn't hesitate—4–0, total dominance.
Their opponent in the final?
Familiar.
Arsenal.
Wembley would host its second London Derby of the season.
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