On April 27th, just three days after the last El Clásico, the entire Real Madrid team traveled to Barcelona to prepare for the first leg of the Champions League semifinal.

Both teams had only three days to adjust. In fact, neither side had fully recovered from the impact of the previous match before they had to face each other again.

The reason it's called a grueling schedule isn't just because of the physical toll—the mental pressure is also a major factor.

Whether it's Real Madrid or Barcelona, these two weeks have been a formidable test for both.

"Here again. I really don't like this place!"

No one would like a city where the entire population harbors malice toward them. For Real Madrid players, Barcelona is exactly that.

From the moment they arrived at the airport, Barcelona fans followed their bus, hurling insults and trying every way to disrupt the Real Madrid players' focus.

However, this wasn't the first time they'd encountered such behavior, so they managed to stay relatively calm.

Though still somewhat indignant, they endured it.

After all, they still had to face the Champions League semifinal, which required them to maintain optimal form.

Upon arriving at the hotel, Mourinho didn't schedule any training. Instead, he held a tactical meeting around 3 PM to further familiarize the players with the strategy. After dinner, Mourinho ordered the players to refrain from any leisure activities.

This included watching TV, using phones, playing games, and all other forms of entertainment.

With a major match approaching, any media hype or incitement could affect the players' mindset, while games could interfere with their rest. Thus, Mourinho had to ensure the players could get a good night's sleep to prepare for the next day's game.

With no leisure activities, the players could only gather to chat.

Naturally, they congregated in Suker's room.

"Tomorrow's match is going to be another big battle."

"It's fine, we have Suker. As long as he is fine, we can secure the win."

Suker rolled his eyes: "Do you think Guardiola is an idiot? After suffering once, he won't make any preparations this time?"

Srna: "Let them prepare all they want, but your explosive performance can truly influence the game. It'll depend on how the coach leverages your strengths."

Suker's powerful performance was undeniable—it was an extremely powerful weapon.

As the coach, Mourinho's job was to outmaneuver Guardiola, figuring out how to showcase Suker's strengths.

As for Guardiola, he naturally didn't want to see that happen.

But regardless, Real Madrid still held some advantage in this aspect.

Even if that didn't work, their overall tactics were strong enough to go head-to-head with Barcelona.

"I think there are two key moments to unleash Suker."

Srna continued: "First, unleash Suker right at the start to immediately overwhelm Barcelona in the opening phase."

"Second, like last game, wait until the second half when they're slightly fatigued and let Suker apply even more pressure."

Hearing Srna's words, everyone nodded in agreement.

Only Suker grinned: "Do you think I'm a robot? Just erupt on command? Don't I need to adapt to the game, gradually warm up my body and emotions?"

Srna: "I feel like you can do it!"

As everyone joked, Ramos remained expressionless, seemingly unable to laugh.

Suker sensed this keenly.

After the tactical meeting, Mourinho had a private conversation with Ramos, clearly assigning some special tasks.

And judging by Ramos' expression, it was likely some dirty work.

Mourinho had intensely fueled the rivalry, to the point where Real Madrid and Barcelona were now irreconcilable.

Suker didn't think Ramos felt any guilt about targeting his national teammates.

In fact, Ramos had long been displeased with those Barcelona guys.

Throughout his career, Ramos had clashed most frequently with his own national teammates.

"Alright, it's 11 PM. Time for you all to go back to sleep."

Suker started shooing everyone out.

With the Champions League match tomorrow, it was time to sleep.

Hearing this, everyone began to disperse.

After they left, Kaká also slipped under the covers, ready to sleep.

Normally, Suker's even breathing would be heard by now—the guy always slept soundly.

But this time, there was nothing.

Kaká turned to see Suker sitting cross-legged on the bed, stroking his chin as if deep in thought.

"Aren't you sleeping?" Kaká asked.

Suker turned: "Don't you feel the atmosphere is a bit off?"

"Atmosphere?" Kaká was puzzled.

Suker nodded: "After the last game ended, the core of the match seemed to change from defeating the opponent to destroying the opponent."

Though just a two-word difference, Kaká noticed the issue.

"Actually, I feel that too. It's like the players are holding back a fire, waiting to unleash it."

This was the result of Mourinho's intention of rivalry and hatred.

Although derby matches naturally have this atmosphere, the ultimate goal is to win the game.

But for Real Madrid, it seemed to have taken a different turn.

It wasn't about beating Barcelona!

It was about crippling Barcelona!

Of course, if the Spanish players from Barcelona and Real Madrid beat each other's brains out, it had nothing to do with Suker. But the problem was, it couldn't affect the match outcome.

Suker was worried that these guys would become too aggressive and reckless, leading to ugly incidents that could impact him and the team.

"Stay extra vigilant tomorrow, especially with Ramos and Pepe. We must pull them back in time!"

Barcelona had lost the league and were smoldering with rage, waiting to clash hard with Real Madrid.

Real Madrid held more advantages. This season could potentially bring glorious achievements.

At this critical juncture, they absolutely couldn't lose their composure and be swayed by Barcelona's anger.

Stabilizing the situation was key!

The next day, the fiery atmosphere continued.

The Champions League semifinal arrived.

The entire city of Barcelona felt like a powder keg about to explode.

After consecutive losses, everyone at Barcelona was driven by a strong desire for revenge.

In this mindset, their hatred for Real Madrid intensified even more. Coupled with media hype and incitement,

Compared to historical El Clásicos, the current intensity had reached its peak.

Kill the Madridista!

Kill the Madridista!

Kill the Madridista!

The chants at Camp Nou were filled with intense hatred and anger.

The match hadn't even started, but the tension was already palpable.

The stadium was even filled with riot police and numerous security personnel. They surrounded the away-section Real Madrid fans, keeping home fans away and forming a buffer zone.

Yet, despite this, many Barcelona fans still charged the barriers—the situation was extremely dangerous.

Perhaps concerned about the match spiraling out of control, several more squads of riot police entered the stadium, further enhancing security.

At the entrances, four ambulances were parked, each equipped with emergency doctors.

The setup was terrifying.

"Is this war?"

Looking around, Srna couldn't help but feel worried.

This scene surpassed even a derby—it was akin to warfare.

To this, Suker said quietly: "This is pretty much war!"

Their ears were filled with vile insults, threats, taunts, and curses.

Under the malice of 100,000 fans, anyone without strong mental fortitude wouldn't be able to stand their ground here.

In this atmosphere, both teams completed their warm-ups.

Returning to the player tunnel, the Barcelona players stared intently at the Real Madrid players.

Their eyes were full of hatred and anger.

In response, the Real Madrid players glared back without backing down. From this moment, the match's explosiveness had already begun to spread.

"This is the first leg of the 2010/2011 Champions League semifinal: Barcelona VS Real Madrid!"

"Three days ago, Real Madrid hosted Barcelona and, after a grueling 90 minutes, won 3-2 in the 33rd league round. This marked Barcelona's sixth consecutive loss to Real Madrid over the past two seasons. It's safe to say that Barcelona's fury is now burning fiercely!"

"For Barcelona, this is a match they must win. Even Barcelona president Rosell stated in a televised address that Barcelona is in a crisis and must secure a victory to prove their dominance in football!"

"And for Barcelona, while they can beat any other team, the one they most want to defeat is their El Clásico rival, Real Madrid!"

"Folks, let's wait and see. This will be a fiery match!"

Spanish commentator Gonzalez rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

A clash of titans + a match filled with gunpowder—these elements stimulated the senses of the neutral fans.

They believed this would undoubtedly be an intense match.

Suker stood at the center circle waiting for kickoff. Real Madrid would start with the ball.

Suker took a deep breath, constantly reminding himself to stay calm.

His ears were still filled with boos and curses, but he tuned them out, steadily calming his emotions.

Peep!!

Just then, the whistle blew.

Suker immediately passed the ball and sprinted forward.

Suker charged ahead, while Benzema acted as the central striker, pushing straight toward the defense.

After receiving the ball, Alonso didn't pass back. Instead, facing Barcelona's press, he launched a long ball forward.

"Alonso with a long pass! He's looking for Benzema—"

Boom!

Benzema was about to jump for the ball when suddenly his mind went blank, and his vision turned sideways.

What happened?

Benzema was confused.

He landed heavily.

"What the f**k!"

Suker had been constantly telling himself to stay calm, but sometimes emotions can't be fully suppressed, especially in intense matches.

It was already hard to control his temper amid the surrounding curses, let alone witnessing a brutal foul by Barcelona.

Puyol had positioned himself against Benzema, and Piqué charged from the side, violently knocking Benzema into the air.

Is this football?

This is f**king rugby!

"To hell with this!"

Suker charged forward angrily; other Real Madrid players also rushed furiously toward Piqué.

Instantly, the atmosphere in the entire stadium ignited!

"Bring it on! Start it! What are we afraid of!" Suker snarled; "Kill them!"

41 minutes in, the entire stadium was on the verge of explosion.

Suker had been fouled repeatedly—his shin guards were kicked out, and the back of his heel was subtly bleeding, even after bandaging.

Messi's mouth was full of blood after being taken down by Ramos—it was unclear if his teeth were knocked out.

Kaká had also been fouled repeatedly.

Iniesta had gone down multiple times.

Alonso was injured and substituted off, replaced by Diarra.

Xavi was limping, seemingly unable to continue.

In just over 40 minutes, both teams had accumulated 9 yellow cards.

Suker, Kaká, Alonso, Ramos, Marcelo.

Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, Piqué.

These players were all on yellow cards.

It showed just how gruesome this match was.

"My God! This match has exceeded expectations in intensity. Should the referee blow the whistle to stop the game and let both teams cool down?"

At that moment, Suker just received the ball.

Messi immediately press Suker.

Suker shoved back fiercely, causing Messi to stumble. But before falling, Messi still managed to trip Suker.

Both players went down.

The referee blew the whistle again for a foul but didn't issue a card, only giving both players a verbal warning.

As they got up, Suker and Messi locked eyes. Both held a determination to win and a hint of anger.

The match continued, and so did the fouls.

You tackle me, I immediately take you down.

The game could hardly flow smoothly—after 2-3 passes, fouls were inevitable.

The referee was also sweating profusely.

This was a highly watched match featuring top stars, especially iconic players like Suker and Messi. Neither side could be easily offended.

Moreover, following the football association's instructions to maintain the match's entertainment value, he had been ordered not to issue red cards.

But without red cards, how could the game continue?

The good news was that halftime had finally arrived.

The first 45 minutes ended 0-0. The entire half had been spent 'fighting' on the pitch.

Pah!

Suker spat out a mouthful of saliva tinged with blood, then took off his boots and socks.

The back of his heel was covered with a blood red cotton. Part of it had stuck to his sock, and removing it caused a stinging pain.

Kaká also took off his socks and removed his shin guards.

The guards were covered in blood, with several small holes that matched the shape of studs.

His calf was bleeding profusely—a gruesome sight.

Others had minor injuries too, but Suker and Kaká were particularly severe.

Forwards get kicked.

Defenders do the kicking!

Thus, forwards are always the ones getting injured!

"How's Alonso?" Casillas asked.

Faria replied: "Don't worry, it's a sprained ankle. Not a serious injury."

Hearing this, Casillas sighed in relief, then said angrily: "That idiot Villa!"

Alonso's sprain was entirely thanks to Villa.

As a national teammate, no one expected him not to compete, but he shouldn't have made a dirty tackle!

As Alonso landed, Villa had subtly pushed him, a sneaky move that affected Alonso's landing position and caused the ankle sprain.

At that moment, Mourinho walked in.

He scanned the room, his face growing even darker at the sight of his players'惨样 (miserable state).

"In the second half, Kaká will drop back to play as a defensive midfielder. Di María will play as right winger. Our task is to stabilize the situation and look for counterattacks! Understood?"

Everyone nodded, and the team doctors hurriedly performed emergency treatments.

Just then, the door opened.

The referee walked in with match officials.

"Gentlemen, I need to have a word with you," the referee said sternly, beginning his speech.

On the other side, Barcelona's situation was equally grim.

Messi had blood-absorbing cotton in his mouth, occasionally frowning—clearly in pain.

During the match, he hadn't felt it much, but after cooling down, the stinging sensation intensified.

The team doctor twisted Xavi's knee. After several attempts, he shook his head at Guardiola, indicating Xavi couldn't continue.

Iniesta, like Kaká, had a calf covered in blood.

Guardiola watched the scene with a headache.

Although he had encouraged his players to be more physical and proactive, he hadn't expected the match to develop in this direction.

By the 20-minute mark, the game had essentially spiraled out of control.

The door opened again.

The referee for the match walked in.

"Gentlemen, I just visited Real Madrid's locker room and persuaded them to tone down their tackles. This match has gone beyond just winning or losing—your challenges are too dangerous!"

"Moreover, I've received instructions from UEFA. If the second half continues to spiral out of control, my decisions will become even stricter, and you will face varying degrees of sanctions. I hope you understand—don't let one match ruin an entire season's efforts. Understood?"

The Barcelona players exchanged glances.

Villa asked: "What did Real Madrid say?"

The referee grimaced.

Why were these guys all the same?

Real Madrid had also asked him:

'If Barcelona compromises first, we'll agree.'

The referee took a deep breath and said seriously: "Gentlemen, I'm not joking. You must reduce the tackles—if you still want to win this match!"

This last sentence was essentially a threat.

If the match continued like this, it might even provoke the volatile Barcelona fans into making some foolish decisions.

Then, the club would pay for the fans' actions!

UEFA might directly award the win to Real Madrid!

The Barcelona players understood this logic, so they silently accepted the referee's words.

"Good!"

The referee nodded slowly upon seeing this and turned to leave.