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Now reading: Chapter 222 - 220: You Want Me to Choose? Then I Pick Bayern from Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid, a Action novel by Johanssen10.

Li Ang was visibly more active in today's match than usual.

But contrary to what many fans assud, it wasn't because he wanted to "teach a lesson" to the young players on the other side.

Truth be told, he'd just been itching to play after being rested during the last Champions League round. A whole week without competitive football had left him pent-up.

Add to that the fact that Southampton were packed with players who'd later beco Premier League stars—the overall quality of the match was high. It was only natural that Li Ang was fired up.

What he didn't realize was that his intensity on the pitch was weighing heavily on Southampton's youth.

Luke Shaw, Ward-Prowse, and the other teenagers, all still under 20, were looking at him with an odd mix of respect, tension… and defiance.

Yes, they were nervous—but they were also hungry to challenge.

After all, they too were regarded as "rising stars."

These were kids who had grown up under the spotlight of dia praise and fan hype.

Even at eighteen or nineteen, they were full of pride and ambition.

And setbacks only fueled that desire.

They didn't back down from Li Ang. On the contrary, they wanted to prove themselves against him.

For fans and journalists, this kind of dynamic—young prodigies challenging an established star—was exactly the kind of storyline that brought a match to life.

But for Pochettino, it was a double-edged sword.

Training young talent ant encouraging courage, pride, and flair.

But those sa traits could beco liabilities when the situation demanded tactical discipline.

Take Lallana, for example.

A bit older and more experienced, Lallana was calm and steady.

He didn't think it was wise for Shaw and Ward-Prowse to charge forward so recklessly.

From a team structure perspective, Southampton needed to think about balance.

The smarter play would be to consolidate defensively and cut off Li Ang's driving runs through the middle.

Sure, Li Ang was a distributor—but if they blocked off his central progress and double-marked Hazard, they could force Chelsea to funnel their attacks through Lampard and Ramires.

And frankly, Lampard was aging, and Ramires was nowhere near Hazard in terms of threat.

That, Lallana thought, would be their best chance.

But he couldn't make the decision for the whole team.

And Pochettino?

He didn't alter the tactical setup either. He chose to double down on the attacking pace.

Li Ang noticed it imdiately and smiled. Mourinho had read them perfectly—again.

This Southampton side lived and died by their wing attacks.

Both full-backs were quick and aggressive going forward, but not particularly strong defensively.

So against a team with elite wide attackers like Chelsea, they couldn't afford to slow things down and play a positional ga.

Southampton's ideal strategy was clear:

Smash through the flanks, send in dangerous crosses, score first, and then tighten up and counter.

With Rickie Lambert acting as the battering ram in the box and Jay Rodriguez following up for rebounds, this approach had brought them plenty of success.

But today, Mourinho wasn't playing along.

He'd countered the strategy by starting younger full-backs—Bertrand and Azpilicueta—to match Southampton's pace and press them back.

So far, it had worked perfectly.

Southampton's flanks were locked down, and their attackers had no aningful connection with the midfield.

Pochettino didn't want a midfield battle.

Mourinho? He forced it anyway.

It made the ga look a little slow and choppy—but that's exactly how Mourinho liked it.

And in a ga like this, Li Ang thrived.

Unless Pochettino was willing to abandon his wing play entirely and send all his forces into the middle to clog Li Ang's space, there was no stopping him.

But if he did that, Hazard would run riot.

It was a tactical trap.

Pochettino chose to press the flanks and isolate Hazard.

Mourinho responded by giving Li Ang full attacking freedom in the center.

And the result?

Lallana barely managed to slow Li Ang down. Unless he resorted to tactical fouls, he had no chance.

Even Schneiderlin and Wanyama had to double up on Li Ang—because neither could handle his aggressive drives alone.

Chelsea, now playing at ho with full referee protection, weren't hesitating to bulldoze through the middle.

Before kickoff, Wanyama had assud Li Ang would play with finesse.

After all, his recent gas had shown flashes of slick dribbling.

But when Li Ang went straight into shoulder-to-shoulder contact, Wanyama found to his dismay that he couldn't even keep up.

Li Ang's strength and stamina were well beyond what he'd expected.

Eventually, Wanyama gave in and called Schneiderlin for help.

Their double-team weakened the spine of Southampton's midfield.

Because even when Li Ang was marked by two, he could still release the ball to Hazard, Ramires, or Zlatan.

Chelsea's build-up didn't stop.

By the 30th minute, Pochettino had already drained two bottles of water on the sideline, his frustration mounting.

He had watched Li Ang grow—he'd faced him back in La Liga.

And he knew better than anyone how much Li Ang had improved in just three years.

Watching him now, slicing into the heart of his team's defense, he had to admit—he had no idea how to contain him anymore.

Maybe he'd have to abandon the wings and clog the middle.

Even if it went against his principles.

"It's an away match," a voice whispered in his head. "If we get a point, that's still a result. There's no sha in parking the bus occasionally."

But then ca the doubt.

"Can we really survive by just sitting back? Chelsea have too many ways to break down a deep block. It's too risky."

The two voices clashed in his head.

This was a common flaw among many modern managers.

They struggled to choose between sticking to their philosophy and adapting to reality.

They often blad players for failing to execute their tactics rather than questioning whether those tactics were right for the mont.

Mourinho, by contrast, always started with one assumption:

His players had done their jobs.

And if the plan still didn't work?

Then the problem was with the plan.

When Mourinho sees that a particular part of his ga plan is being exploited, he doesn't hesitate. He starts running ntal simulations to adjust. If he can tweak the tactics, he'll do that. If not? Then he'll swap players.

That decisiveness, paired with his deep tactical repertoire, makes Mourinho a rare breed. Sure, he loves safe, clean victories, but he's more than capable of unleashing his team in aggressive shootouts too.

He's flexible, ard with a wide array of strategies, and he only cares about one thing: winning. The path to victory? Doesn't matter. Just get there.

This is why his in-ga adjustnts often look so tily—and effective.

That doesn't an Pochettino is a bad manager. On the contrary, most managers would hesitate in the sa spot. Mourinho's in-ga decisiveness is what makes him the exception, not the rule.

So it's not surprising that Pochettino was still hesitating.

Most Southampton fans, too, were torn. Should they keep pushing down the flanks, or sit back and grind out a draw?

By the 42nd minute, that dilemma disappeared.

Chelsea's patience and tactical pressure finally paid off.

Near Southampton's right side of the penalty area, Li Ang, Zlatan, and Ramires strung together five crisp, one-touch passes.

When the ball returned to Li Ang, he gave it a feint—staring at Hazard, making it look like the attack would shift left.

But instead, he used his heel to flick it behind him—perfectly into the path of the late-arriving Lampard!

Before the match, Pochettino had hamred the point: don't give Li Ang any space to shoot at the edge of the box.

And Southampton's defenders listened.

Li Ang had been marked tightly all ga and hadn't gotten a single clean shot off.

But this ti, he'd made himself a decoy.

He'd lured both Schneiderlin and Wanyama toward him, freeing Lampard completely.

And now the legendary Lampard—calm, poised—was winding up at the top of the D.

Pochettino froze.

He hadn't just used Hazard as bait. Li Ang had baited with himself.

In goal, Boruc could only pray.

But this was Lampard, and the result was inevitable.

The sweet crack of the ball hitting the net cut through the stadium.

Boruc had no chance.

"GOAL!!! Frank Lampard!!! A vintage strike from the edge of the box puts Chelsea on the board! That's his fifth goal of the season—he's still got it!"

"So reckless! Leaving Lampard with ti to shoot from there? Southampton's defense got caught sleeping!"

Jian Jun and General Fan were losing their minds in the Sina Sports studio.

On the pitch, Lampard sprinted to the corner flag, fists raised, roaring with joy.

Even Mourinho was surprised. He hadn't expected Lampard to open the scoring—not in this match, not with how defensively he'd been deployed.

But credit to Li Ang—his clever setup had reactivated Chelsea's long-range weapon from last season.

Pochettino, who had been agonizing over whether to bunker down and aim for a draw, no longer had that luxury.

The final minutes of the first half passed quietly, and the mont the second half began, Southampton ca out swinging.

Pochettino knew the rule: against Mourinho, don't wait to chase the ga.

Because by the 70th minute, Mourinho's team would still be running like machines… and yours wouldn't.

He'd learned that lesson painfully during his La Liga battles with Real Madrid.

So he fired up his players during halfti—no more caution. All in.

And credit to Southampton—their second-half aggression was sharp and dangerous.

But this was exactly what Chelsea wanted.

How could they counterattack if Southampton didn't attack first?

Chelsea dropped back, waited, and struck.

Li Ang switched roles with Lampard, falling deeper into the pivot alongside Matić.

Now, he was the fulcrum.

The defensive shield. The counterattacking general.

His job wasn't to score—it was to launch the perfect break.

He didn't need to deliver the final pass.

He just had to see the path and start the play.

And when Southampton finally overcommitted?

He'd be ready.

In the 71st minute, Shaw delivered a cross. Terry beat Lambert to the header.

Li Ang moved.

Ramires received the clearance and imdiately sent a diagonal through ball into space ahead of Li Ang.

Wanyama lunged in with a full slide.

Li Ang, nimble, flicked the ball past him, then jumped to avoid the tackle and kept going.

But instead of sprinting all the way forward, he adjusted his stride and pinged a long, cross-field pass to the right wing.

Hazard, at that very mont, torched Chambers with a burst of pace and left him in the dust.

With one touch to control and another to cut inside, Hazard drove toward the box.

Before Southampton's center-backs could recover, he squared the ball backward at the perfect angle.

Zlatan arrived.

With a clinical first-ti strike, he buried the shot.

Boruc could've had Spider-Man's reflexes and still not saved it.

2–0. Ga over.

Mourinho didn't even celebrate.

He was already calling for Kalas and Ivanović to warm up.

Li Ang stopped thinking about counterattacks. He stayed back with Matić and shut down Southampton's last-gasp assaults.

Lambert was desperate but ineffective.

Still nursing an injury, he couldn't be his old self.

Osvaldo ca on, contributed nothing.

Southampton kept crossing.

Chelsea kept clearing.

The three minutes of added ti vanished. The final whistle blew.

Another big win.

Chelsea's lead at the top grew once more.

And after the match, a beaming Li Ang accepted an interview with Sky Sports.

They asked him about the league. The upcoming EFL Cup. Even the Champions League.

Li Ang laughed and shrugged.

"Champions League? If I get to choose… I say give a strong one. Let's play Bayern Munich in the first knockout round. How's that sound?"

Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.

Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon/johanssen10

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