"Feeling good?"
"Huh?"
"I said, what's it like to join the club and win a title right away? Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Ha—definitely!"
In the middle of the post-match crowd, Li Ang grinned at a clearly elated Modrić, who was still admiring the Supercopa trophy in his hands, unable to hide the joy in his eyes.
"You'd better enjoy this whole week then. We just won the Supercopa, and in a few days, we're gonna win the UEFA Super Cup too!"
Only then did Modrić rember. That's right—Real Madrid had played the Supercopa on August 29th, and on September 2nd, they were set to face Atlético Madrid in the UEFA Super Cup.
If they beat Atlético as well, they'd clinch two trophies in just one week!
"What if Atlético wins, though?"
"Not happening. No way."
Seeing Modrić's cautious expression, Li Ang patted him on the shoulder with all the confidence of a veteran—just like his teammates had done for him the season before.
"If we were playing Athletic Club, sure—one-legged tie, so chance of slipping. But against Atlético? Even if we played them ten tis in ten straight finals, we wouldn't lose a single one."
"We're really that confident in the derby?"
"Heh… We've got Cris, don't we?"
At that mont, Ronaldo, who had noticed Li Ang pointing in his direction while chatting with Modrić, turned his head, assuming he was being praised. Smiling, he gave the two a friendly nod.
anwhile, at Atlético's training ground, Diego Sione and his coaching staff were still banging their heads over one problem: how the hell do you stop Cristiano Ronaldo?
No matter who you were, if you were facing Madrid these days and wanted points—let alone a win—Ronaldo was the first and biggest obstacle.
Fifty-one goals in La Liga. Fifteen in the Champions League. Two record-breaking tallies in one season. Ronaldo wasn't just dangerous—he was lethal.
His presence alone had Sione convinced that if they could just find a way to shut him down, Atlético might have a shot at winning the Super Cup.
Deep down, Sione probably knew that Mourinho's Real Madrid machine could still function without Ronaldo. But in a one-off final, a superstar could tilt the entire outco.
Last season, Ronaldo had torched Atlético with four goals in the second half of the league campaign—completely wrecking Sione's hopes of derailing Madrid's title charge.
He had gone into that ga full of confidence, thinking Atlético could play spoiler and be the heroes of the league's final chapter.
Instead, they got thrashed 5–1. Reality check.
This sumr, Sione had done his best to strengthen the squad. Most of the new signings were players he personally wanted.
Winning the Europa League had given him so montum.
This ti, facing Madrid again, he felt his team was at least capable of putting up a real fight.
Whether that would be enough? That depended on whether they could stop Ronaldo on September 2nd.
※※※
On September 1st, Real Madrid's squad boarded a flight to Nice, France, without much stress or worry.
They would land at the Côte d'Azur Airport around noon, take a bus to Monaco in the afternoon, and complete their scheduled training at the Stade Louis II.
Mourinho and his staff still went over tactical drills and plans during the journey—they weren't taking Atlético lightly.
But if you looked at the players, there wasn't even a hint of anxiety.
Li Ang included.
He'd already faced Sione's Atlético once before. Yes, the team had improved after half a season under the Argentine's direction.
But turning a squad around takes ti. Sione hadn't worked any miracles yet. Atlético were still a work in progress.
This season, they weren't yet ready to challenge Madrid for trophies. They needed at least one more full campaign of developnt to beco the ironclad squad that would later terrorize Europe.
Right now, their defense had only just been restructured. Their midfield control and attacking threat were still well below par.
And a team that only knew how to defend couldn't hope to stop Real Madrid. Not when their only reliable striker was Falcao.
Against Madrid's steel wall of a back line, that wasn't nearly enough.
The gap in quality between the two sides was still massive.
And it showed in the dia too. Every outlet, regardless of nationality, was overwhelmingly backing Real Madrid to beat their local rivals again.
The disparity was even starker than Sione had imagined.
So he had no choice but to double down on his motivational speeches—doing everything he could to inject belief into his squad.
The crowd in Monaco, made up mostly of curious neutrals, didn't care who won. They just wanted to see stars—and goals.
With sports dia descending en masse and global attention locked in, the UEFA Super Cup was enjoying plenty of buzz.
September 2nd. Stade Louis II. The players walked out behind the referees.
Real Madrid and Atlético Madrid. A continental title on the line.
In China, it was 2:00 a.m., but the ever-energetic He Wei was already live on-air, his solo comntary ready to keep fans company through the night.
After Madrid secured their fourth trophy of the year—the Spanish Super Cup—Chinese fans were going wild. No one wanted to miss what could be Li Ang's next step toward the legendary six-trophy haul.
So fans had only started watching football recently—thanks to Li Ang's appearances in sumr comrcials—and now, they were glued to their screens, bundled in blankets, tuning into CCTV-5.
He Wei's intro was brief. The director quickly cut to the live feed.
Li Ang appeared on screen, walking hand-in-hand with a young match mascot, his trademark confident smile lighting up the shot.
That smile alone gave millions of fans the reassurance they needed.
They'd already beaten Barça—why worry about Atlético?
Trophy number five was coming tonight. No doubt about it.
In contrast to Madrid's relaxed swagger, Atlético's players looked tense. Understandable. Facing a treble-winning squad as the underdog wasn't sothing you could simply shake off with a few pre-ga chants.
After a polite handshake between Mourinho and Sione, both managers returned to their dugouts, cool and composed.
Tactically, Mourinho felt well-prepared.
His predictions had been accurate. Sione didn't dare try anything radical. He stuck with a balanced 4-2-3-1 formation.
Madrid? They went bold.
No 4-2-3-1 tonight. Mourinho rolled out a full-on 4-3-3—a formation brimming with attacking intent.
Even He Wei sounded surprised as he announced the starting lineups.
"...Real Madrid's backline isn't too different from usual. But in the midfield and up front, Mourinho has gone for a lineup that's truly aggressive..."
"Feels good, doesn't it!?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking—what's it like to win a title right after joining the team? Feels amazing, right?"
"Ha—yeah, amazing!"
In the midst of the celebrations, Li Ang grinned as he watched Modrić gleefully stroking the Supercopa trophy like a prized possession.
"Well, you'd better get used to it, because this week's not over. We just grabbed the Supercopa, and in a few days, we'll be lifting the UEFA Super Cup too!"
Only then did Modrić recall the upcoming fixture. That's right—Real Madrid had just played and won the Spanish Super Cup on August 29, and now on September 2, they'd be facing Atlético Madrid for the UEFA Super Cup.
If they won again, it would be two major trophies in one week.
"But what if Atlético wins?"
"No way. Absolutely impossible."
Seeing Modrić's cautious tone, Li Ang clapped him on the shoulder, full of the sa unshakeable confidence his own teammates had shown him the season before.
"If it were Athletic Bilbao in a one-leg final, sure, there's a chance. But Atlético? Even if we played ten one-off finals against them, we wouldn't lose a single one."
"You really have that much confidence in the derby?"
"Co on—we've got Cris, don't we?"
Noticing Li Ang gesturing toward him, Ronaldo turned his head mid-warmup. Thinking he was being praised, he smiled and gave a nod of approval toward Li Ang and Modrić.
anwhile, at Atlético's training facility, Sione and his coaching team were still racking their brains trying to figure out how to stop Ronaldo.
Because the truth was, if you wanted to beat Real Madrid—or even take a point off them—you had to deal with one man first.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
Fifty-one league goals. Fifteen in the Champions League. Record-shattering numbers. The most dangerous striker on the planet.
Sione firmly believed that if they could just shut down Ronaldo, they had a shot at lifting the Super Cup.
He knew, deep down, that Mourinho's system would still be a threat even without Ronaldo—but this was a one-ga final. A superstar could change everything.
And last season, when Ronaldo had utterly destroyed Atlético with four goals in a single match, Sione had believed his team could be the heroes that stopped Madrid's title run.
But after a crushing 5–1 defeat, he had to face reality.
This sumr, he'd finally gotten the reinforcents he wanted. The Europa League title added a little swagger.
But challenging Madrid again? That would take a miracle.
※※※
On September 1st, Real Madrid departed for Nice, France, in high spirits.
After landing at the Côte d'Azur Airport, the team took a bus to Monaco to complete training and preparations at Stade Louis II.
Mourinho and his staff still ran tactical walkthroughs. They weren't taking Atlético lightly.
But if you looked at the players? Not an ounce of tension. None.
Li Ang was relaxed as ever.
He'd already played against Sione's Atlético. And while the team was stronger than last season, transformation takes ti.
This Atlético squad still lacked a fully cohesive midfield and a consistent attacking unit. Falcao alone wasn't enough to threaten Madrid's iron-clad defense.
Defensively strong teams could delay Madrid—but they couldn't stop them. Especially not with Ronaldo in his current form.
dia across Europe had picked their side. Almost unanimously, everyone favored Madrid.
Sione had to go all-out to pump up his players' morale.
Neutral French fans? They just wanted entertainnt—goals, star monts, fireworks.
As journalists from across the continent flooded Monaco, the stage was set.
September 2nd, Stade Louis II.
Real Madrid vs. Atlético Madrid.
In China, it was past 2 a.m., but comntator He Wei was right on ti, solo-hosting his way through the biggest match of the week.
After Madrid's fourth trophy—last week's Supercopa—the football scene in China was ablaze with anticipation. No one wanted to miss the mont Li Ang took one more step toward the elusive six-trophy season.
So new fans had only started watching football because of Li Ang's sumr endorsents. And now, they were staying up late, curling under blankets and tuning in to CCTV-5.
He Wei quickly handed the cara over to the live feed.
There was Li Ang, walking onto the pitch hand-in-hand with a young match mascot.
That confident smile was all it took to reassure fans back ho.
They'd already beaten Barcelona—why worry about Atlético?
This was the night. Title number five was in the bag.
While Madrid's players looked calm and assured, Atlético's squad looked visibly tense.
Going up against a treble-winning Real Madrid? That pressure didn't go away just because your coach yelled a few slogans before kickoff.
After a brief handshake between Mourinho and Sione, the two managers returned to their dugouts.
Mourinho felt well-prepared. Tactically, everything was in place.
Sione didn't take any major risks. No switch to a 4-4-2. He stuck with a balanced 4-2-3-1.
Madrid, on the other hand, went full attack mode.
No 4-2-3-1 today. Mourinho sent out an aggressive 4-3-3.
Even He Wei was surprised when the formations were announced.
"...Real Madrid's backline looks pretty standard, but in midfield and up front—Mourinho's gone bold tonight! Di María and Li Ang as dual attacking mids, Alonso holding, and a front three of Cristiano Ronaldo, Higuaín, and Benzema!"
That lineup hit like an adrenaline shot.
Fans across China were wide awake now. Scratch that—everyone watching, anywhere, was fired up.
Sione, on the other hand, was stunned.
"Is this... just how little they respect our attack?"
He clenched his fists on the sidelines.
But once the match began, and Atlético were imdiately forced back into their own half, Sione had no choice but to swallow that bitterness.
Mourinho had earned the right to set up this way.
With five players in the attacking third and both full-backs constantly overlapping, Madrid pinned Atlético back hard.
Falcao had to track all the way back near the halfway line just to help defend.
And once Atlético's formation had been compressed, Mourinho looked even more relaxed.
Falcao was a great striker, but he wasn't a target man. His threat lay inside the box, not in midfield. With no pivot, no explosive winger to stretch play, Atlético's chances of countering were slim.
Madrid had been built on counterattacks—they knew exactly how to shut one down.
With Atlético's attack neutralized, their defense packed deep, and no outlet to relieve pressure, they were stuck.
If only Sione had brought on Diego Costa earlier.
Costa could've created chaos. He wasn't afraid of Ramos or Pepe and would've used Madrid's defensive gaps more effectively.
But Sione wasn't ready to unleash that beast.
So under relentless pressure, young Courtois beca the busiest man on the pitch.
Ronaldo's long shots were pure thunderbolts.
Within four minutes, Courtois had already parried two of them out for corners.
Madrid hadn't scored yet, but their frontline was heating up.
Watching from the bench, Modrić's eyes sparkled. Di María was playing brilliantly, but Luka felt like he could do even better in that position.
"If I played left center mid, Li Ang to my right, and Di María on the wing… We could dominate even more."
He burned with desire—but all he could do for now was wait.
Back on the pitch, Di María was being triple-tead. Li Ang sprinted forward, yelling for the ball.
Di María shifted his body and slipped a sharp diagonal pass through the press.
Facing down Gabi, Li Ang didn't try anything fancy. He backed into position, shielded the ball, and played it left.
No silly one-on-one. No lost possession.
Benzema picked it up, passed it wide to Arbeloa—who bombed down the flank and crossed into the box...
But not to the back post.
Instead, it was a cut-back to the edge of the box—where Li Ang and Benzema had already positioned themselves.
Gabi and Godín both raced for the ball—but Li Ang, shielded by Benzema, got there first and flicked a header toward the far post.
Just as he collided with Godín, Ronaldo pounced.
Free of his marker, CR7 launched himself at the ball and powered a close-range header past Courtois.
From midfield buildup to flank overlap, from decoy runs to finish—Real Madrid's attacking flow was seamless.
Sione's eyes darkened.
"Is there really no way to stop this?"
He slamd the bench.
Mourinho, anwhile, clapped and smiled.
"This one's in the bag."
So thought he was speaking too soon.
But when Ramos headed in the second goal in the 34th minute from a set-piece?
No one doubted him anymore.
Atletico were rattled. Mourinho dropped the lines back, morphing into a counter-heavy 4-2-3-1.
Higuaín led the line, Benzema dropped to CAM, and Li Ang dropped back to double-pivot alongside Alonso.
The whole team adjusted effortlessly. Atlético had no answers.
In the second half, Atlético threw on two strikers in the 75th minute for a last-gasp push.
Madrid responded by ramping up their counters.
Marcelo crossed in, Higuaín flicked it ho—3–0.
When the final whistle blew, Sione sat motionless.
His eyes stung at the scoreline.
Well, it was progress. From 1–5 to 0–3.
After a quick handshake with Mourinho, he walked over to his players, vowing to use this painful loss to fuel their growth.
But tonight?
Tonight belonged to Madrid.
As Casillas hoisted the UEFA Super Cup, cheers echoed across the continent.
Real Madrid.
The Fifth Trophy of the Year.
Kings of Europe.
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