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Chapter 62: Arsenal vs Manchester United 2
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 15:26:34 +0000 UTCAfter returning to the pitch, Kai’s position shifted slightly.
He switched places with Arteta, moving from the right to the left flank.
In other words, Kai was now facing Ashley Young on the left wing.
Since the old man wanted to exploit Arsenal’s left side, the Professor responded by putting his toughest shield right there.
Arsenal would meet force with force.
What Ferguson didn’t expect, though, was that Arsenal’s shield could bite back.
Kai took a deep breath. His second-half task wasn’t just heavy—it was pivotal.
With Arteta struggling to dictate tempo, Wenger had given the offensive reins to Kai.
To free him up from defensive pressure, Arteta’s forward surges were scaled back.
If Ferguson wanted a direct clash on the left, Wenger was happy to meet it head-on.
The second half kicked off, and Arsenal took possession.
Suárez surged forward, while Arteta dropped deep.
United pressed high, aggressively.
Kai dropped back to receive.
Vermaelen sent the ball to him, and as soon as Kai controlled it, he felt the pressure.
Van Persie was right on him, trying to shove him off balance, but Kai didn’t budge.
He wasn’t that skinny kid anymore. At 87 kilograms, he held his ground. Van Persie couldn’t move him.
Kai nudged him aside with a swift body feint, turned, and sent the ball to Arteta.
Van Persie shook his head, a little frustrated.
Kai didn’t care. He moved up and signaled to Arteta.
Arteta immediately returned the pass.
Kai received it again and shifted it to Cazorla.
Cazorla found Podolski with a clever pass.
Under pressure, Podolski returned it to Arteta, who played it back to Kai.
This time, Kai switched play with a long pass to Walcott.
Walcott took it on the run, aggressive from the get-go, trying to beat Evra.
Evra pushed back hard, but Walcott wasn’t giving in. Two quick cuts and he was nearly through.
Evra had no choice—he went in with a slide, taking Theo down.
"Hey!!"
Kai shouted, charging toward Evra.
The others closed in, tensions flaring.
It was a reckless challenge.
Players from both teams squared up, but before it could boil over, the referee jumped in, separating them and flashing a yellow at Evra.
Evra looked annoyed, but he didn’t argue. Deep down, he knew—they were targeting him.
Kai helped Walcott to his feet, clapping him on the shoulder. “ He can’t keep up with you.”
Walcott nodded, “Yeah, I will put him in a lock.”
“Just stay sharp,” Kai warned. “Don’t get hurt.”
Walcott nodded again, stealing a glance at Evra. He smelled blood.
Kai passed to Cazorla for a short free kick.
The ball stuck to his feet as he danced through challenges.
United players tried to dispossess him, but Cazorla’s movement was too fluid. Eventually, one had to foul him.
On the sidelines, Ian Darke's voice sounded heated. “Arsenal’s front line is heating up—Walcott and Cazorla are threatening the United backline, and with Suárez up front, Arsenal are pushing hard!”
The rhythm in the second half had changed entirely.
The only clear difference was that Kai was on the ball more. Was he organizing?
No—the main organizer was still Arteta.
But Kai was controlling possession. And occasionally, he was stepping into that organizer role. Not constantly, but when he did, the results were sharp.
The breakthroughs by Walcott and Cazorla were individual efforts, sure, but they needed dangerous passes to set them up.
In the first half, Arteta’s slower pace never unlocked that side of them.
Now, Kai was feeding them balls into threatening zones, letting them use their flair to break through United’s defenses.
Fans swallowed.
Strong in defense.
Sharp in key passes.
And now, showing flashes of organizational control.
He looked like a rising midfield general.
And the fans saw it too.
Every clean pass, every clever switch of play—they were watching Kai light the fuse.
What looked like a simple ball was a perfect spark.
Walcott and Cazorla had been unleashed.
And this wasn’t the slow, deliberate Arsenal of the first half.
This was direct, focused, and aggressive.
The fans knew it.
This wasn’t Arteta’s tempo.
Darke in commentary said. "Arsenal's offensive rhythm has gone up a notch or two."
McManaman, ever the analyst. "It looks Wenger tweaked Kai and Arteta's positions a bit. Arteta hasn’t been involved in most of these passes. "
Darke responded. "Indeed, and it looks like it's working."
Steve nodded. "Kai is organizing everything—delivering the ball to the most comfortable spots, giving his teammates the platform to create. He’s doing better than we expected. His organization isn’t passive—it’s assertive. He passes forward more often than anyone else out there."
...
Chen Yixun was glued to the screen, eyes fixed on the Arsenal midfield.
Though he was a Manchester United fan, Kai’s presence—a fellow Asian —made Arsenal impossible to ignore.
He wasn’t a die-hard supporter of any team. United just played a style he liked.
But now, that affection was starting to shift. Toward Arsenal.
And the reason was clear: Kai.
Watching someone from your Continent excel at this level was powerful. You couldn’t help but feel it.
And Kai’s performance was electric.
Chen realized midfielders could dominate in ways strikers couldn’t.
They didn’t just finish the chances—they created them. They controlled everything.
...
A steal.
A precise bit of organization.
Kai suddenly launched a diagonal long ball.
Podolski burst forward, rose for a header, and knocked it down to Cazorla.
Cazorla, quick as ever, redirected it to Walcott.
United’s back line shifted, trying to plug their right side—but it left Walcott open.
He slipped into the box.
Evra rushed over to cover, but Walcott calmly cut the ball back.
Cazorla appeared at the edge of the area.
"Close him down—he’s gonna shoot!" Evra shouted.
Ferdinand and Evans scrambled across, throwing themselves into blocks.
But Cazorla chopped the ball sideways and faked a shot.
Both defenders were sliding on the ground.
"No!" someone cried in the stands.
And here came Suárez, who received the ball from Cazorla.
He didn’t hesitate. Just teed it up with his right and smashed it low, quick, and clean.
The ball whipped along the turf, right between De Gea’s legs.
GOAL.
Ian Darke exploded in commentary.
"Kai with the long ball—Podolski’s header—Cazorla feeds Walcott—Walcott cuts it back—Cazorla again—SUÁREZ!!!"
"Gooooooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaallllllll!!!"
"Luis Suárez has done it! He’s rescued Arsenal! What a strike! What a build-up!"
"Incredible! That’s six passes—fast, clinical, electric football. Arsenal at its finest!"
The Emirates erupted.
Fans jumped, arms flying, voices roaring.
The equalizer had come at 65 minutes.
Arsenal didn’t quit.
They never do.
"YES!!!"
On the sidelines, Arsenal’s entire bench leapt up.
Wenger turned and wrapped Pat in a big embrace.
They’d held strong under pressure. And now they were back.
Hope had returned to the home side.
Everyone on the touchline was on their feet.
"That is what I'm talking 'bout! You were right to trust Kai!" Pat roared. "And Cazorla—two goals in the final third! That’s brilliant! We’re level!"
Wenger’s face lit up with excitement.
The old man threw his arms into the air, animated and alive.
In that moment, a heart that had been quiet for so long began to pound—loud and strong.
This was football.
A goal.
A vital equalizer.
Hope reignited.
Arsenal... still alive!
Down on the pitch, Suárez was already sprinting.
Cazorla, Walcott, and Podolski chased after him.
They reached the corner flag and piled on, embracing with laughter and joy.
“Guys, we did it!”
“We did it!”
“Haha! We equalized!”
“Oh my God, that was insane!”
The group erupted, letting the emotion pour out.
Manchester United had been suffocating them, but now—now it was a clean slate.
Moments later, Kai and Arteta came flying over.
“Brilliant work!”
Kai wrapped Suárez in a bear hug.
Suárez beamed like a kid.
Then he held up one finger. “Just one more!”
“One more goal and I’m level with Van Persie in the scoring charts!”
Kai blinked in surprise, then ruffled his hair. “I’ll set you up!”
Suárez nodded fiercely, fire in his eyes.
Kai turned back to the group and shouted, “Alright guys, time to regroup! They’re not going to let up—we have to defend hard. Lock this feeling in, and let’s go win it!”
A thunderous roar echoed.
At that moment, Arsenal’s morale was sky-high.
...
Meanwhile, in the Sina Sports live broadcast room:
“Kai delivers a long ball to Podolski—Podolski heads it down—Cazorla’s on it—Walcott slips into the box—he cuts it back—Cazorla again—Suárez—he shoots!”
“GOOOOOAAAL!!!”
Zhan Jun threw his hands into the air.
“Goal!! In the 65th minute, Suárez strikes and Arsenal are level! The Gunners haven’t backed down—they’ve responded in style! Fast, sharp, ruthless!”
“This could be the beginning of the comeback!”
“Magnificent!”
“Absolutely brilliant!”
...
Chen Yixun sprang up halfway from his seat. He looked at his daughter clapping next to him, tried to hold it in, but failed.
He pumped his fists and muttered under his breath, “This is incredible... incredible... amazing.”
“This is it! We’re back in it! Arsenal still have hope!”
His slouched posture was gone. He was buzzing now.
He’d completely forgotten that, 65 minutes ago, he was a Manchester United fan. Now he found himself cheering for Arsenal.
“Don’t give up! You’ve got this! Kai—keep going!”
His fists were clenched tightly.
...
Across the globe, in Los Angeles...
Matt Damon was not holding back.
He ran laps around his plush living room, shouting, jumping, punching the air.
At one point, he ran into his home gym, grabbed a sandbag, and punched it.
Then ran back to check the score.
And punched the sandbag again.
“God! Oh my god! This is incredible!”
“Arsenal! This is the team I fell in love with! Don’t give up, keep fighting!”
He pounded his chest and screamed with a twisted grin of euphoria:
“Come on, Gunners!!”
