Chapter 109: This Is Mourinho's Trump Card—The Midfield Beast Trio PLUS Edition!
Real Madrid had now reached the Champions League semifinals for the second consecutive season, and this time, they had also built a massive lead over Barcelona in La Liga.
In the blink of an eye, Mourinho's reputation—somewhat tarnished after last season—had soared back to its peak.
If things played out the way many fans dreamed:
Mourinho leads Madrid past Bayern, then defeats Barcelona in the final, bringing Los Blancos their long-awaited Champions League trophy and completing a glorious revival—
Well, if that happened, it was almost certain Mourinho's status among active managers would temporarily eclipse everyone, even Sir Alex Ferguson.
Of course, the higher the expectations, the bigger the backlash if those expectations weren't met.
But Mourinho didn't care.
He never had any interest in bearing the weight of fan fantasies, nor did he bother engaging with the negativity of the press.
That had always been his way.
And he demanded the same from his players—stay focused, ignore outside noise.
Beating Marseille 6–0 over two legs and reaching the final four was worth celebrating, yes—
But Mourinho insisted that any celebration remain internal.
After that, it was back to work.
Focus on the league sprint leading into the next Champions League showdown.
Barcelona were still right behind them, biting at their heels.
Guardiola had clearly reawakened his squad's hunger for trophies.
Barça were no longer slipping up—they were on a winning streak of their own.
So Madrid needed to maintain their pace, matching Barça win for win.
Fortunately, the players had no objections.
After three years of being dominated by Barcelona, they were burning for a league title to restore their pride.
There was no drama this time.
Everyone had the calendar memorized.
They couldn't wait to knock down any remaining obstacles between them and the championship.
Valencia was the biggest one left.
Of all the La Liga Matchday 32 fixtures, Madrid vs. Valencia drew the most attention.
It was the only true heavyweight clash—first vs. third in the table.
Real's last real threat on the road to an early title.
That said, the points gap between the top three was enormous.
Madrid were on 85 points.
Barça were in second with 70.
Valencia sat in third with just 48.
The gap was laughable.
"Real and Barça aren't even in La Liga anymore," people joked. "They're in the Super La Liga."
And the joke wasn't wrong.
Madrid and Barça were in a league of their own.
The rest of Spain couldn't even keep up.
Still, Real Madrid needed to respect Valencia.
They'd already learned their lesson against Levante.
Underdogs could punch back if you let them.
One lucky break, one moment of madness, and you might find yourself on the wrong end of a result.
With that in mind, the coaching staff decided against a full rotation.
This was the final stretch.
The main players just needed to push through a bit more.
Once they got past Valencia, the remaining fixtures—Atleti and Sporting Gijón—should be routine.
Plenty of rest time after that.
So on the night of April 8, Valencia arrived at the Bernabéu to find Madrid's strongest lineup waiting for them.
Commentator Xu Yang was more fired up than even He Wei, a well-known Madrid supporter.
He Wei, realizing his partner might overdo it, took over the introductions himself:
"Valencia are going with an aggressive 4-3-3 today.
Goalkeeper: #13 Guaita.
Defenders: #17 Jordi Alba, #4 Rami, #18 Víctor Ruiz, #20 Ricardo Costa.
Midfielders: #5 Topal, #21 Parejo, #24 Alberto Costa.
Forwards: #8 Feghouli, #11 Aduriz, #14 Piatti."
"And for Real Madrid, Mourinho's gone with a 4-3-3 as well.
Goalkeeper: #1 Casillas.
Defenders: #15 Coentrão, #4 Ramos, #18 Albiol, #23 Nacho.
Midfield: #14 Alonso holding, #10 Leon and #24 Essien on either side.
Front three: #7 Ronaldo, #9 Benzema, #22 Di María."
"Yes, both teams are fielding their strongest possible lineups.
Madrid are missing Pepe and Arbeloa due to fatigue.
Valencia are without Soldado and Jonas due to minor injuries.
As the season nears its end, every squad is feeling the strain."
With the lineups introduced, He Wei and Xu Yang shifted the conversation to the title race.
Last year, when Leon won Serie A with Milan, Chinese commentator Duan Xuan had gone viral.
His dramatic commentary during the title-deciding match had become a fan-favorite clip online.
Now, He Wei was thinking:
Was he about to witness Leon winning La Liga in his first full season back at Madrid?
And possibly more than that?
He could already see himself, one month from now, calling the Champions League final with Leon starting for Real Madrid.
The thought gave him goosebumps.
Back in China, football forums were buzzing.
If Madrid could get past this "hard bone" called Valencia, Atlético and Gijón would be pushovers.
Just three more wins.
Title clinched.
Leon, who had lifted the Serie A trophy last season, would now add La Liga to his cabinet.
And he wasn't even 21 yet.
He had already collected more silverware than most players manage in a decade-long career.
There was no such thing as overhyping him anymore.
Some fans on Tieba even started posting with headlines like:
"Leon—The Most Decorated '90s Player Alive!"
That little "born in the '90s" tag shut down all arguments.
When it wasn't about their own favorite players, everyone supported Leon.
Götze? Hazard? Please.
Yes, all three had league titles.
But Leon also had an Italian Cup and the Spanish Super Cup.
If you went by honors alone, Leon was the number one of his generation.
The only area where he lagged was in personal stats—but that came with the position he played.
No worries.
Fans believed that once he met Götze or Hazard on the field,
he'd school them just like he had Dzagoev, Isco, and Griezmann before them.
At exactly 3:30 a.m. Beijing time, when the match kicked off, Tieba and every major Chinese sports forum exploded with live threads.
Posts were refreshing so fast they barely stayed visible for more than a few seconds.
Real Madrid vs. Valencia.
The final wall on their road to the title.
And Mourinho had just unveiled his ultimate formation:
The Midfield Beast Trio—PLUS Edition.
At this point, every real football fan in China—no exceptions—was a die-hard supporter of Leon.
And when that enormous wave of support translated into actual TV ratings, the executives at CCTV Sports could barely stop grinning.
Meanwhile, the major Chinese corporations that had locked in endorsement deals with Jorge Mendes ahead of time were just as thrilled.
With Leon's domestic popularity soaring and his international reputation rising fast, those "extra millions" they'd spent to secure a long-term partnership now felt like the best investment ever.
As long as he didn't get involved in scandals or legal trouble, there would be no end to the lucrative contracts coming his way.
And Leon? He responded to all this trust and support the only way he knew how—by delivering another incredible performance on the pitch.
Well… okay, to be fair, it helped that the day before the match, he used a physical recovery booster.
As long as his fitness wasn't compromised, as long as he could run, Real Madrid's midfield had a rock-solid advantage in ball recovery and pressing.
And the long-preserved "Essien card" Mourinho had been holding in reserve?
Now, it was finally paying off.
A healthy, well-rested Essien paired with Leon on either side of midfield—the two of them completely tore apart Valencia's rhythm from the opening minutes.
Xabi Alonso, operating behind them, was having the time of his life.
On defense, he only needed to provide occasional cover.
And once Leon or Essien won back possession, Alonso could calmly dictate the tempo from deep.
With Alonso comfortably in rhythm, Madrid's entire system clicked into place.
Mourinho sat on the bench watching the chaos unfold—grateful, but also a bit regretful.
"If only this was peak Michael (Essien) alongside Leon…" he muttered to himself.
"The level of midfield dominance they'd bring would be unmatched. What a shame."
He shook his head, then smiled bitterly at his own greed.
If Essien were still in his prime, Chelsea wouldn't have let him go in the first place.
It was already a luxury to have two high-level ball-winning machines plus a world-class orchestrator in one midfield trio.
Karanka wasn't thinking so deeply.
He was just… happy.
Watching Madrid's midfield running like a well-oiled engine, Karanka felt like their chances against Bayern had just jumped at least 20%.
The Leon–Essien–Alonso combination was simply too perfect.
In terms of playing style and complementary skillsets, the three of them fit together like they'd been designed for it.
Each fulfilled their tactical role flawlessly, and together, they commanded the pitch like generals in formation.
Valencia's midfield couldn't keep up.
They were losing the ball constantly, and on defense, they were always half a beat too slow.
Had Mourinho started Khedira or Kaká instead of Essien, Madrid never would've gained this kind of stranglehold.
He'd failed to get Khedira to adapt his style, but with Essien—a player most people thought was past his best—he finally got the tactical picture he wanted.
On the Valencia sideline, Emery was starting to panic.
He thought Essien had already performed well in his limited league appearances.
Not just him—most La Liga managers probably thought the same.
The guy was coming off a serious injury, was well past 30—no way he could still play at 70-80% of his peak.
But now? Watching him charge through tackles and shrug off defenders without hesitation?
Yeah, Emery knew he was in for a long night at the Bernabéu.
"Damn it… Real Sociedad couldn't trip them up last round, so now I have to be the punching bag?"
Emery cursed internally as he began debating whether to bring on an extra midfielder to help absorb the pressure.
Parejo and Alberto Costa were getting absolutely wrecked.
And unless they held out until Leon and Essien eventually tired, there was no way Valencia would ever regain control.
But the match was barely ten minutes in.
Was it too early to sub?
Emery hesitated for two minutes.
And in those two minutes, Madrid hit him with the sequence that would define the entire game.
It all started with Leon.
He stole the ball cleanly off Parejo, and immediately, the Madrid forwards surged forward in perfect sync.
But instead of launching a long pass or recycling the ball to Alonso, Leon passed it laterally to Essien—and followed him forward.
Two muscular tanks bulldozing through the center of the pitch sent Valencia's defensive shape into chaos.
Parejo and Alberto tried to recover, but their midfield partner—Topal—made a fatal mistake.
Instead of dropping back to shield the center-backs, the 6'3" midfielder tried to press forward.
Essien chuckled mid-run, passed it back to the overlapping Leon, then curved around the slow-footed Topal.
Leon played a perfect return pass into space, and just like that—a simple one-two combination shattered Valencia's midfield.
Emery wanted to strangle Topal.
But it got worse.
Essien's next pass went wide to Di María, who didn't even stop the ball—he just accelerated, brushing past Jordi Alba with ease.
One body feint, one cut inside, and Di María unleashed his signature cross with his stronger foot.
Benzema, doing the dirty work, drew Rami out of position.
And at the far post?
Cristiano Ronaldo, leaping above his Portuguese national teammate Ricardo Costa, unbothered by friendship or sentiment.
He crushed the header.
Guaita had already moved toward the near post anticipating the ball.
But Ronaldo went far post.
Guaita stretched—
Too late.
The ball ripped into the net.
The Bernabéu exploded.
He Wei and Xu Yang, commentating live, couldn't hold back their excitement as they roared into their mics.
The stadium was a sea of madness.
The camera zoomed in on Ronaldo… then panned to midfield, where Leon and Essien were laughing, high-fiving, and embracing.
They waited a moment, then linked up with Alonso—who jogged over grinning—and the three of them ran shoulder-to-shoulder toward the celebration huddle.
Mourinho sat on the bench, absolutely glowing.
Every commentator, regardless of country, had the same thought at that moment:
So this… this is Mourinho's true masterstroke.
Essien was back.
Khedira was out.
And Real Madrid's Midfield Beast Trio—PLUS Edition was officially online.
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