Chapter 174: Fat Tiger's First Appearance for Madrid, Li Ang: "That's My Brother."
"Is it true Gonzalo didn't reach an agreement with the club?"
"Yeah, it fell through. He still wants guaranteed starter status, but… sigh, there's nothing that can be done. It's not like Karim's going to give up the spot he's finally earned, right?"
"He just couldn't bring himself to accept being a supporting player. The boss gave him chances before, but he didn't take them. Too late to complain now."
"Forget it, let's stop talking about this. We're just chatting here—like this never leaves the locker room."
"Got it."
After the 3–0 victory over Athletic Bilbao, Iker Casillas, in high spirits, invited his "inner circle" for a private dinner.
Ramos, Li Ang, Arbeloa, and the rest were all present.
Li Ang had just come for a good meal, but the conversation naturally drifted toward Higuaín's renewal situation.
It was pretty much what Li Ang had expected.
Having lost his starting spot and won plenty of silverware, Higuaín had made one last push to stay.
But he underestimated just how vital Cristiano Ronaldo had become in Mourinho's system—and how much the team needed him firing on all cylinders.
From the beginning, the competition wasn't just Higuaín vs. Benzema. It was Mourinho testing who could bring out the best in Ronaldo.
If Higuaín had been willing to play the sacrificial role like Benzema, and if he'd actively sought to build chemistry with Ronaldo, things might have gone differently.
Maybe Benzema never would've had a shot.
Even with Li Ang's butterfly effect—preventing Mourinho from publicly labeling them "the cat and the dog"—Mou's initial faith in Higuaín had been real and obvious.
But Higuaín had chosen his own path instead of the one Mourinho laid out.
It wasn't necessarily right or wrong.
Purely on ability, Higuaín might still edge Benzema. So his frustration was understandable.
But in a team sport, fit with the tactical system mattered more than individual strength.
And right now, Benzema fit Madrid like a glove.
All Li Ang could do was sigh.
He had a good relationship with everyone in the squad. But if a teammate couldn't come to terms with the club, the only thing he could do was mentally prepare to say goodbye.
Once they'd moved past the sensitive topic, the atmosphere in the private room lightened up again.
With Madrid looking strong in both the league and the Champions League, there was plenty of laughter and joy.
Ramos and Casillas were especially vocal in praising Mourinho's "wise" decision to drop the Copa del Rey.
Looking at them now, it was hard to imagine these same guys had once clashed with Mourinho over tactics and authority.
Victory and trophies, after all, were the best bonding agents.
Li Ang couldn't help but smile at the contrast between this current harmony and the chaos he remembered from this time in the "original timeline."
Back then, Madrid's locker room had fractured completely.
But now? They were unified.
And he played a big role in that.
He echoed the praise, matching the captains word for word.
After the meal, the guys said their goodbyes and left in high spirits.
Li Ang, for his part, was relieved.
Casillas still seemed sharp enough to keep personal drama out of the club. His loose-lipped girlfriend hadn't stirred anything up—yet.
And with the season entering the final stretch, they were just about six weeks away from the Champions League final.
Just get through this next month and a half. After that, if Iker's girlfriend wanted to cause a scene, whatever. Let her.
As long as it didn't interfere with their title defense, Li Ang didn't care.
Besides, he'd already rewritten so many players' fates at Real Madrid.
Some endings weren't perfect. But most of the squad—and the coaching staff—had gained new, brighter paths in their careers.
Where Madrid would go next, Li Ang couldn't say.
The landscape of world football had already shifted.
But for now, his "leveling-up phase" was complete.
He had the strength and confidence to face any coming storm.
Because in the end, only ability matters.
That, he understood more clearly than anyone.
And nothing would stop him from continuing to grow.
※※※
Training resumed after a brief break, and Madrid's morale was sky-high.
Next match: they wanted all three points.
During team practice, one new face caught Li Ang's attention—another Castilla kid had been called up.
The moment Li Ang saw the familiar, slightly weathered but determined face, he walked over with a big smile and welcomed him like family.
"Carlos, don't stress. Stick with me, I'll help you settle in with the tactics and the squad. You might get your debut next game, so stay sharp. I've got your back out there. I believe in your future."
Jesé, who had just greeted the new guy moments earlier, froze.
Wait a second… hadn't Li Ang said the exact same thing to him?
While Jesé stood confused, the other Castilla lads just rolled their eyes.
This was classic Li Ang.
He had a ready-made welcome speech for new recruits.
A few tweaks here and there, and he reused it for everyone.
If Matuidi had been nearby, he probably would've tilted his head too.
Because when Li Ang first introduced Matuidi to the squad, he'd used the same line.
But Casemiro—newly promoted and unaware—was deeply grateful.
He'd joined Castilla on loan from Brazil in the winter window.
His solid performances in the Segunda had caught Karanka's eye.
Now, Mourinho was giving him a taste of first-team life.
Same process as Nacho, Morata, and the others:
Train, adapt, rotate in—show your worth.
If you deliver? Welcome to Madrid.
With only a few games left this season, Mou likely just wanted him to get a feel for La Liga. Maybe earn a couple appearances, adjust to the pace.
Casemiro had raw potential. Madrid's top scouts in South America were high on him.
If he showed something in limited minutes, spending a few million to buy him outright would be a no-brainer.
From the moment he joined the senior squad, Casemiro shadowed Li Ang.
Just like Li Ang had once shadowed Xabi Alonso.
Pepe and Marcelo couldn't resist teasing them:
"Look at you three. A midfield version of Russian nesting dolls."
Alonso just smiled.
Li Ang laughed and accepted the joke.
He didn't have the arrogance to call himself a "mentor."
He was still learning from Xabi every day.
But big brother? That role he'd gladly own.
Jesé and Morata were already his little bros.
If not for Nacho and Carvajal keeping him in check, Li Ang might've declared himself the Castilla Class of '90 captain already.
But he didn't just talk big.
He paid for team dinners.
He gave the best birthday gifts.
The truth was, outside of himself and Nacho, the rest of the Castilla graduates were still on starter contracts—earning tens of thousands a year.
Not bad for regular folks.
But in top-tier football? Peanuts.
Li Ang had money to spare.
So he was generous.
At first, Morata had felt awkward.
Jesé called him "big bro" without hesitation.
But now?
Even Morata was starting to come around.
After Li Ang gifted him a luxury watch and the latest iPhone on his birthday last October, Morata had caved completely. From then on, he was all-in on the big bro act. No hesitation, no shame.
Naturally, Casemiro received the same treatment.
On the very first day of training after joining the first team, Li Ang personally reserved a well-known Brazilian restaurant in downtown Madrid.
The whole Castilla crew was invited—a proper welcome party for the new kid.
Casemiro, who still carried a faint sense of inferiority, was nearly moved to tears by the overwhelming hospitality.
After dinner, Li Ang led the gang to a private gaming lounge nearby, where they had the whole place to themselves for hours.
They were all young.
You eat.
You game.
Bonds form quickly.
Li Ang even drove Casemiro home afterward.
That night, the Brazilian tweeted:
"Today I met someone amazing. He's my big brother now."
Casemiro wasn't famous yet. His tweet didn't make much noise.
But thanks to Li Ang's very public, very high-profile hangouts with the Castilla gang, fans took notice of the new kid.
Madridistas were simple in their logic:
"If Li Ang says he's one of us, then he's one of us.
If he's running with the Castilla crew, we support him."
So, before Madrid's next La Liga clash against Real Betis, Casemiro's social media saw a small explosion of followers.
Then came the pre-match press conference for Matchday 32.
Reporters spotted Casemiro's name in the 18-man squad list—and went digging.
A 21-year-old Brazilian defensive midfielder. Balanced in attack and defense. Spotted by Madrid scouts in South America.
The Spanish press was intrigued.
Madrid already had a stacked midfield. And now they were grooming another holding midfielder?
Some speculated it was because Essien would return to Chelsea next season. Others thought it hinted at Xabi Alonso's potential departure.
Whatever the reason, Casemiro—just promoted to the senior squad—was getting serious attention.
Most young players would be thrilled.
Casemiro?
He was nervous as hell.
Sure, he'd played professionally back in Brazil. But this was Real Madrid.
This was the epicenter of world football.
The pressure was entirely different.
Li Ang noticed right away.
"This kid's too honest for his own good."
During warm-ups, he made Casemiro stick by his side, helping him loosen up.
"Guess how many people will be in the stadium today?"
"I… I don't know."
"Maybe 60,000!"
"Wha—?!"
"Too bad we already played Barça. You missed the Camp Nou—it holds 100,000."
Li Ang chuckled.
When he saw Casemiro getting even more nervous, he dropped the jokes.
"Alright, listen. If you get a chance to play today, remember—
You've made it from Brazil to La Liga.
Think about everything you've overcome to get here.
What's a stadium full of fans compared to that?"
"Think of your family, your friends.
Think of the fans in Brazil watching on TV.
You want to make the World Cup squad next year, right? On home soil?"
He gave the kid a pat on the shoulder.
Casemiro's eyes widened.
He licked his lips.
And something inside him clicked into place.
The nerves faded.
He was ready.
Kickoff came. Casemiro and Morata watched from the bench as the starters took the field.
This season, Real Betis were no fluke.
Last season, Levante had surprised everyone by finishing sixth.
This year, Betis were doing the same—currently sitting in sixth place.
Two points ahead of Valencia. Just one behind Málaga.
They were fighting for Europe—and they were fired up.
Even against Madrid, they wanted points.
But Madrid shut that down immediately.
First half? Total control.
Once again starting as a central midfielder, Li Ang gave no mercy to his old teammates.
He was more physical than usual—defending like a destroyer.
Whether it was marking, scrapping, or tactical fouls, Li Ang completely nullified Betis' midfield engine, Beñat.
And on the counter?
Li Ang was just as sharp—slotting in killer passes that tore through Betis' backline.
He didn't get an assist in the first half.
Madrid still went up 2–0.
Benzema? He missed a few golden chances set up by Li Ang.
In fact, Benzema's only goal came from a scrappy ball played in by Ronaldo.
Li Ang just shook his head.
No stats for him today—but that's football.
In the 58th minute, Alonso—who had assisted Di María's goal earlier—was subbed off for Essien.
Four minutes later, C Ronaldo came off. Morata came on.
It was clear:
Mourinho was rotating ahead of the next Champions League clash.
72nd minute.
Modrić off.
And on came Casemiro.
Just turned 21.
Making his Real Madrid debut.
He took a deep breath, high-fived Modrić, and stepped onto the pitch.
Li Ang smiled and waved to the crowd, signaling for applause.
The Bernabéu responded. Loud and warm.
Brazilian commentators went wild, introducing Casemiro to the world.
And the kid?
Locked in.
Madrid were up 3–0, but he played like it was 0–0.
Tracking. Sliding. Intercepting.
When Casemiro executed a clean slide tackle to stop a Betis attack led by Nosa Igiebor, Li Ang ran over, grinned, and pulled him off the grass—patting him on the chest in approval.
"Remember his name.
Casemiro.
He won't let Madrid down."
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