Upon arriving at Real Madrid's training base, the first order of business once everyone had gathered was a medical check-up.

All first-team members reported to the physiotherapy room for their examinations in order.

This time, Mourinho was personally overseeing the process.

Seeing Mourinho standing to the side, hands in his pockets, with a fierce expression, the players felt a bit intimidated.

He looked like he was ready to work anyone into the ground if they had slacked off during the break and their physical metrics were off.

One by one, the Real Madrid players entered the examination room, and soon, the results came out.

"Everyone has met the standards!"

The team doctor reported to Mourinho.

Mourinho was surprised. "Everyone met the standards?"

The team doctor nodded again.

Mourinho glanced over. "Marcelo too?"

The team doctor grinned, holding back laughter, and nodded.

The other players couldn't help but chuckle.

Marcelo sighed. What kind of impression had he left on Mourinho to make him think he would fail the check-up?

Then again, Marcelo had indeed failed the previous two check-ups.

"Congratulations! No extra training for you!"

Suker patted Marcelo on the shoulder with a smile.

Marcelo grinned. "I trained hard during the break to maintain my condition."

After all, the second half of the season would be demanding, with the Champions League knockout stages, the Copa del Rey, and the league all requiring attention.

Under these circumstances, he wanted to be in better physical shape.

Moreover, he knew that his teammates, who seemed to be having fun, were actually training secretly to maintain their condition.

They were all cunning—if he had genuinely slacked off, he would have been the fool.

Once bitten, twice shy!

He wouldn't make the same mistake again!

Additionally, recently, Carvajal had been performing well, and Mourinho had given him more playing time.

Carvajal was already showing signs of threatening the starting position.

Srna was Mourinho's trusted player, and his performance was unquestionable. Compared to the right flank, Marcelo felt more pressure on the left.

To avoid being replaced by Carvajal, he had no choice but to train relentlessly.

Real Madrid didn't tolerate idle players. Slacking off at Real Madrid would only result in being shown the door.

After completing the medical check-up, the players headed to the training ground.

Pintus stood there with his hands behind his back.

He smiled. "I bet you all missed me!"

"No! We didn't miss you at all!" Marcelo shook his head vigorously.

"Is that so?" Pintus smiled. "Then I'll have to bond with you a little more. Everyone, slow jog for ten laps. Marcelo, fifteen laps!"

Marcelo wailed, "Coach! I was wrong!"

"Call me Sergeant!"

Another three days of fitness training!

Due to the previous injury crisis, those who had been injured were singled out for additional training.

In Pintus's philosophy of sports, injuries occurred because players didn't train hard enough.

His fitness training wasn't the problem; the problem was the "lazy" players.

Thus, Ramos, Kaká, Marcelo, and others were fitted with oxygen-restriction masks and began their "vomiting" journey.

At the end of the first day of training, as Suker was preparing to go home, Mourinho called him over.

Mourinho approached Suker and led him to his office.

"I called you here today mainly to discuss some changes in positioning!"

Suker raised an eyebrow. "Positioning changes?"

"Exactly!" Mourinho nodded. "I plan to have you try playing as a free-roaming forward more often in the second half of the season."

Suker looked surprised.

A Mourinho-style free role?

"A defensive free role?" Suker frowned.

"No! Playing as a number 10!" Mourinho continued. "Since the match against Atlético Madrid, I've been considering this. With your individual ability, you can easily handle this position, and it will also diversify our attacking options."

Suker looked at Mourinho. Letting him play as a number 10 wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as it would mean more tactical resources allocated to him.

But there was one problem with this.

"Our midfield is set up in a defensive formation, with Kaká as the central midfielder. If I play as a number 10, I'll be encroaching on Kaká's space..." Suker narrowed his eyes. "Are you planning to phase out Kaká?"

Mourinho could sense the anger emanating from Suker.

But Mourinho remained unfazed. He smiled and waved his hand. "I have no intention of phasing out Kaká."

Suker was taken aback.

"Then how do we make it work?"

This was a genuine spatial issue. Even with[Kaká's Awareness], Suker couldn't make it work.

If Suker moved into the attacking midfield position, he would inevitably compress Kaká's space.

In a midfield formation, there was hardly any room for a number 10.

Unless...

Mourinho said, "What if we use an inverted triangle midfield formation?"

Suker blinked. "That would be an offensive midfield setup, and it would mean a single defensive midfielder!"

"I admit Alonso is very capable, but asking him to handle organization, distribution, and defense as a single pivot would be too much pressure!"

"Even with Srna helping him, it wouldn't achieve the same defensive solidity as before!"

Mourinho nodded. "Exactly. So, in this formation, there's no place for Alonso."

Suker was stunned. "No place for Alonso?"

Mourinho nodded. "I've identified a good defensive midfielder, a pure destroyer."

"A sweeper?" Suker asked.

Mourinho nodded.

A pure defensive midfielder, was known as a sweeper.

But Suker couldn't understand why this was necessary.

There was no need!

The current setup was fine!

Suker didn't want to disrupt the entire formation for a slight increase in tactical resources.

What they needed now was stability.

Seeing the confusion in Suker's eyes, Mourinho sighed. "Actually, Alonso approached me recently. He wants a more prominent role in the midfield, a more important position."

"You know, since Kaká has dropped back, it has taken some of Alonso's responsibilities, but it has also allowed Alonso to focus more on defense. However, he wants to contribute more to attack."

Suker nodded.

No one enjoyed defending, as it meant playing passively.

"However, I don't plan to accommodate his request, so I need to be prepared for any issues that might arise."

"What issues?"

"Alonso might want to leave us."

Suker stared at Mourinho for a long time, then pursed his lips. "I can't give you an answer immediately. This involves my positioning, so I need some time to think about it."

Mourinho nodded. "I can give you time. I'll wait for your response."

Then, Mourinho said, "I've always trusted you."

Suker silently cursed.

Well, I don't trust you!

After leaving the coach's office, Suker quickened his pace, exited the building, and immediately pulled out his phone.

"Suker?" Casillas's voice came from the other end.

Suker said seriously, "We need to talk."

That evening, in Casillas's backyard.

"Sorry, I'm out of juice. Would you like a cup of coffee instead?" Casillas asked.

Suker shook his head. "Just water is fine."

Casillas nodded.

Suker took the glass, drank a large gulp, and then let out a sigh.

But his brow remained furrowed.

Casillas looked at Suker and couldn't help asking, "Why did you suddenly come to see me?"

Suker organized his somewhat chaotic thoughts and said to Casillas, "I'll get straight to the point. Is Alonso planning to transfer away?"

"What?" Casillas's eyes widened. "No way!"

With that, Casillas was about to call Alonso.

Suker immediately stopped him.

"Don't call him yet. Let's sort this out first."

Then, Suker relayed everything Mourinho had told him.

Upon hearing this, Casillas was furious!

"Damn Portuguese! I've already made enough concessions, and he's still targeting me. He drove Diarra away, and now he wants to force out Alonso too?"

Casillas was on the verge of exploding with anger.

Suker frowned. "What I don't understand is why he wants to force out Alonso? There's no need for that!"

Casillas snorted. "Because Alonso complained to Mourinho. He wants more midfield resources, a more important role. But this was just a player's request and communication with the coach. Mourinho sees it as a challenge from Alonso, or from us!"

"Damn it! Why does this guy always think like this? Can't he just be normal?"

Suker grimaced. "I almost became his pawn!"

Casillas said, "And a pawn held against the necks of us Spanish players!"

Casillas's tone was filled with frustration, but Suker understood. After being repeatedly suppressed, this situation was indeed infuriating.

He had almost fallen for Mourinho's scheme.

Mourinho had tempted Suker with tactical resources. If Suker had taken the bait and agreed, Alonso would have had no choice but to leave!

If Suker played as a number 10, the midfield would inevitably shift to an inverted triangle formation.

At that point, Alonso would either have to fully transition to a defensive midfielder or move to the right to play as an attacking midfielder.

Either option would severely diminish Alonso's tactical importance.

No one could tolerate such a change.

Alonso wouldn't endure it in silence; he would seek a transfer.

And this wouldn't be Mourinho forcing him out—it would be a chain reaction triggered by Suker's positional change.

Suker was the core of Real Madrid's core. No one could touch him.

His tactical priority was the highest!

In that case, whether it was Casillas, Alonso, or Suker, they would have to swallow this bitter pill.

And it wasn't just that. If things went wrong, it could even lead to conflicts between the Spanish faction and Suker's faction over Alonso's issue.

Then, the Real Madrid locker room would descend into chaos.

Amid the chaos, Mourinho would have the opportunity to weaken both factions, strengthen his own position, and complete his takeover of the locker room!

Casillas watched as Suker rubbed his temples, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Previously, this guy had been watching from the sidelines, enjoying the show. Now he finally knew what it felt like to have the fire at his doorstep.

"Giving in repeatedly will only make him more excessive!" Casillas said to Suker.

Suker also sighed. "We really need to do something."

This time, Suker was also angry.

Mainly because he had been minding his own business, and Mourinho had tried to drag him into the conflict.

They could fight among themselves—Suker didn't care.

But once they involved Suker, it was no longer acceptable.

"What do you want to do?" Casillas asked.

Suker said, "Let's talk."

"Talk?" Casillas said irritably. "Haven't I tried that? It's impossible. He only hears what he wants to hear."

Casillas had thoroughly learned that Mourinho was impervious to reason.

"So, we need a suitable venue."

"Where?"

"Mr. Pérez's estate."

The next day, Mourinho received an invitation from Florentino Pérez.

They had just met a few days ago. Why was he being summoned again so suddenly?

Moreover, Mourinho had a bad feeling about this!

He drove to Florentino Pérez's estate, where the secretary was already waiting at the entrance.

Led by the secretary, he went straight to the front yard.

He found Suker and Casillas already seated there, but there was no sign of Florentino Pérez.

"Why are you here?" Mourinho frowned. "Where is Mr. Pérez?"

"Mr. Pérez won't be joining us. He didn't summon you—we did. We want to talk."

Mourinho frowned at Casillas, then turned to Suker.

Suker looked up. "Sir, let's talk."

Mourinho pursed his lips slightly, took a slow breath, and sat down.

"I don't have much time. I have a lot to handle."

Suker turned his head. "If you don't resolve this matter, you won't have the chance to handle those other things."

Mourinho frowned.

"Are you threatening me?"

Suker smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just want to have an open and honest conversation."

Then, Suker pointed at Casillas. "We already spoke yesterday, so I think you know what mindset I'm in right now."

Mourinho fell silent.

Clearly, he knew the scheme had been exposed.

Suker looked at Mourinho and said, "First, let's each state our demands."

Mourinho and Casillas remained silent.

Suker was the first to raise his hand. "My demand is stability for this season. That's also why we used Mr. Pérez's name to invite you here. We don't want to clash with you in the locker room, as it would panic the players and lead to a decline in overall performance. I think our goal is the same: to win championships!"

"So, for the sake of winning, I need stability, at least for this season! That's all from me."

Casillas nodded and continued, "I don't want anyone else to become a sacrificial lamb. I don't understand why you're suppressing us, but Alonso won't leave, and no one else will leave in the future either."

Mourinho let out a breath. "Alright, since we're here, I'll state my demands too."

"Have you ever understood my team-building philosophy? Have you ever truly respected me?"

"In a football club, the coach must be the core of the team. That's what a healthy football club should look like!"

"But look at our locker room: factions, cliques, a captain and a star player joining forces to threaten the head coach." Mourinho said sternly. "Why do I suppress you? Because I fear this exact situation, and now it's happening. Do you think this is what a healthy club should look like?"

Casillas retorted, "If you hadn't suppressed us, this wouldn't have happened!"

"Who can guarantee that?" Mourinho sneered. "How did Pellegrini leave? Wasn't it because you forced him out? Don't say it had nothing to do with you. I know what happened here. He didn't do a great job, but did you ever give him the respect a head coach deserves?"

Casillas pursed his lips, unable to refute.

Suker looked at Casillas, feeling frustrated.

Bro!

You're the main firepower!

If you're this bad with words, how are we supposed to handle this?

Suker glanced toward the villa window, where Florentino Pérez stood holding a phone.

Beside Mourinho, the secretary also held a phone.

Clearly, Mourinho had noticed this too.

These words weren't meant for them.

They were meant for Florentino Pérez!

Half an hour later, Mourinho left, striding away triumphantly.

Florentino Pérez leisurely walked downstairs.

He smiled at Suker. "You lost."

Suker shrugged. "What can I say? You picked a mute as captain!"

Suker looked at Casillas, who was still stunned by Mourinho's words.

"Iker isn't much of a talker!"

Then, he turned to Suker. "Why didn't you say something?"

Suker shook his head. "What could I say? I'm not the biggest victim here!"

The main cannon had misfired.

Was he supposed to take on their "Katyusha" with a secondary cannon?

Suker shook his head and looked at Florentino. "You heard everything. So, what are you thinking?"

This time, Mourinho had successfully painted himself as the victim.

And by bringing up Pellegrini's experience, he had further reinforced his image.

So, these head coaches were all silver-tongued; none of them were easy to deal with.

Florentino was silent for a moment. "We're in talks with Ancelotti! But it's confidential."

Suker was taken aback.

"You're secretly contacting Fat Pa?"

"Fat Pa?" Florentino was momentarily confused, then burst out laughing. "It seems you have a good relationship with him to joke like that."

Suker awkwardly scratched his cheek. He was just too surprised.

"So, what made you decide this?"

Suker thought Mourinho's performance had been quite successful.

Florentino smiled. "Right before you returned, he spoke with me. He wanted to place Faria in the technical department."

Suker grimaced.

What a twist of fate!

Mourinho was digging his own grave!

Challenging Florentino's authority was a different matter entirely from suppressing the locker room.

He thought he had successfully tested the boundaries.

But he had stepped on Florentino's minefield!

Technical department = transfer authority!

Unless Florentino stepped down as president, he would never let go of this department, even if it killed him!

Instantly, Suker felt much better.

Suker stood up and patted Casillas on the shoulder. "Let's go, Mute Captain!"

"Huh?" Casillas looked up blankly.

"Is it over?"

Sigh!!!!

Suker and Florentino exchanged glances and couldn't help but sigh.