Chapter 138: I Can Choose Not to Shoot—But You Don't Dare Not to Defend
Mourinho's mind stalled for a moment—but it didn't take long for that freeze to be overtaken by a rush of pure euphoria.
His delayed sprint down the sideline to celebrate looked a bit ridiculous, sure.
But who cared?
He was celebrating with all his heart!
"Little Lion! How the hell did you do that?! What a goddamn beautiful shot!"
Benzema was the first to reach Li Ang, practically tackling him with excitement as the rest of the Real Madrid players poured in behind them.
That thunderbolt strike from Li Ang didn't just stun the opposition—it shocked his own teammates.
The entire Madrid squad and staff were either cheering uncontrollably or standing frozen with disbelief.
Take Alonso, for instance. Even while giving Li Ang a high-five and a quick hug, he kept shaking his head in disbelief.
"I used to think you might surprise me now and then," Alonso said with a wry smile, "but now I just hope those surprises come a little less often. You were fantastic, absolutely brilliant."
He ruffled Li Ang's hair and gave him a firm pat on the back, beaming with pride.
He still remembered when Li Ang had first started training his long-range shots—how he'd often called to ask for advice.
Later, he even talked Alonso into handing over Steven Gerrard's contact info.
All told, it had only been three months since Li Ang began focusing seriously on long shots.
Not even 100 days had passed, and he'd already gone from barely trying them to firing off a world-class screamer in a live match.
Even if there was a bit of luck involved in that goal, Alonso couldn't deny it—Li Ang's learning curve and development speed were beyond normal understanding.
Thinking back to that first, slightly awkward conversation, Alonso couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion.
Li Ang grinned and once again thanked his "big brother" for all the help and advice during summer training.
On the Madrid side, it was all smiles. They were thrilled to see their young star take another major step forward and shatter the deadlock in style.
But on Rayo Vallecano's side? It was a gut punch.
They'd studied Madrid's attacking patterns in detail before this match. Their set-piece defense had been well-prepared, and they'd made sure to put extra focus on players like Ronaldo, Di María, and even Essien.
They hadn't seen Li Ang as a shooting threat—certainly not from distance.
Not even Modrić, who was known for his long-range efforts, had been marked as tightly.
So when Li Ang blasted that goal in from outside the box, nobody saw it coming.
Rayo's head coach Antonio nearly collapsed onto the pitch.
It was the 62nd minute. Down a goal, he knew they'd now have to open up—which would only make defending even harder.
They were the fish—and Madrid had just yanked the bait.
One week's worth of meticulous preparation, down the drain in one second. Antonio could only glare helplessly at Li Ang, who was now celebrating with the fans by miming a mask over his face.
Forced to push forward, Rayo launched themselves into a high-risk, all-out offense.
But Li Ang, now energized by his goal, was even more dominant defensively.
With Modrić and Alonso playing supporting roles, Li Ang swept up every loose ball and squashed every attempt to build through the middle.
Time and again, Rayo's desperate charges were turned into Madrid counters—and in the 83rd minute, Ronaldo headed home a clinical counterattack goal to seal the game.
2–0.
Madrid were clearly still not at peak form—but someone always stepped up to carry the load.
Barça fans sighed in frustration yet again.
And so, the two titans of Spanish football continued their unrelenting back-and-forth, matching each other win for win in La Liga.
Still, their somewhat labored performances gave hope to their upcoming opponents.
Barcelona were taking their time to rest and recalibrate.
Madrid, on the other hand, were already gearing up for their rescheduled Round 3 match against Granada.
With only three days between games, rotation was a must. Madrid had the depth to handle it.
Granada, though?
They didn't.
Their appeal to delay the match again had been denied. Now they had to go straight from facing Barcelona to facing Madrid. The definition of a nightmare schedule.
Even rival La Liga fans were posting online in solidarity—expressing sympathy for Granada.
Even some Madrid fans joined in.
Of course, sympathy didn't stop them from also demanding that their team demolish Granada to maintain their win streak alongside Barça.
And on September 28, over 2,000 Granada supporters got a firsthand look at just how "warmly" the Bernabéu could welcome an opponent.
Booing was the least of their worries.
What crushed their spirits was watching their team get pinned down by Madrid's rotated "B team".
Granada fans were heartbroken.
Madrid's backup players weren't messing around.
They didn't have international duty. Even players who'd been selected for Euro 2012—like Albiol and Callejón—barely saw the pitch during the tournament.
Now? They had energy to burn.
And a mid-table team like Granada was the perfect outlet.
Li Ang barely needed to join the attack in this one.
Callejón and Lucas Vázquez were rampaging down both wings, completely tearing Granada's shape apart.
All Li Ang had to do was keep the midfield ticking, distributing cleanly and giving Modrić full creative freedom to push forward.
By the 30th minute, Madrid had already generated multiple chances.
Unfortunately, Morata couldn't finish. His shots were just a hair off each time.
Mourinho could only bury his face in his hands.
"We've got to work on his weak foot in training… wait, which one is his dominant foot again?"
Karanka didn't even have an answer. The two of them just looked at each other and laughed helplessly.
Li Ang, watching this unfold, finally had enough.
In the 40th minute, he surged forward.
Modrić spotted it immediately and pulled a Granada midfielder away, creating space for Li Ang to charge into.
Li Ang quickly laid it off to Callejón, who had peeled wide.
Then he stopped—just outside the box—waiting to support.
Callejón was forced back by tight marking, but when he saw Li Ang raise his hand, he whipped the ball toward him.
In an instant, a Granada center-back and a defensive midfielder lunged at Li Ang, fearing another long shot.
But Li Ang was calm.
Instead of shooting, he delivered a curling cross with the outside of his foot to the far post.
The ball's bend was perfect—and Morata, desperate to make up for his earlier misses, sprung forward with determination.
A quick burst gave him positioning, and the rest was easy.
Flick. Header. Goal.
The ball slammed into the net. Morata finally had his moment.
"Beautiful run-and-pass sequence! Morata finally gets his first of the night! And of course, it's a header!
Li Ang knows exactly how to set him up—it's gotta be in the air!"
In the studio, commentator He Wei slapped his leg and shouted in excitement.
On the field, Morata grabbed Li Ang in a grateful embrace, and Li Ang patted him on the head with a smile.
As for the Granada defenders?
They were kicking themselves.
But could they really be blamed?
Li Ang might not always shoot—but they didn't dare assume he wouldn't.
With every outlet flooded with reports about his thunderous goal from days prior, no one could ignore the threat.
**He could choose not to shoot.
But you couldn't afford not to defend.**
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