"What a clean interception."
Ian Darke commented.
McManaman added with his observation. "I gotta say, Ian, for a kid turned eighteen, Kai moves and plays with experience beyond his years. Cool as a cucumber. Barely phased by the opposition."
"Indeed, Scott. United needs to take him out of the game."
Arsenal fans were enjoying the show, jeering Ashley Young as he lined up for a throw-in.
After Kai's brilliant defensive manoeuver, he signaled for his teammates to drop back and reorganize.
He fell deeper, anchoring the midfield and shielding the backline.
In the stands, Arsenal supporters erupted into applause.
Ashley Young's pace and trickery had haunted them last season.
But this time, they had Kai.
A true number four—with bite and presence.
From the kickoff, both teams came out with intent.
Arsenal weren't just out to win. They wanted payback.
Manchester United, always dangerous, were looking to break Arsenal's shape.
Kai didn't rush to take the reins. He watched, evaluated.
United's 4-4-1-1 formation was compact, well-drilled. Kai couldn't find a clean pocket of space.
Rather than gamble, he chose patience.
The moment he waited for never came.
Instead, United launched a sudden counter.
Arsenal's last attack had broken down, and their transition was sluggish.
De Gea spotted the gap and delivered a precise pass to Rooney, who deftly flicked it to Ashley Young.
Young burst forward along the flank.
Sagna was ready, setting up to block the lane.
But Young danced, feinted, and shifted direction. Just as Sagna leaned into one side, Young tried to dart past on the other.
This one's mine, Ashley thought, eyes flashing with confidence.
But then—
A thunderous shoulder sent him stumbling.
The next moment, a figure flew in—a clean, controlled sliding tackle. A hook turn mid-slide, a seamless rise to his feet.
Ball won. Again.
Ashley Young had lost possession. Twice.
"Would you believe it? That's twice now Ashley Young's been outplayed by Kai!"
Ian Darke shouted over the roar of the crowd.
The Arsenal faithful were in raptures.
They had braced for a defensive onslaught from Manchester United.
Instead, their backline—anchored by an eighteen-year-old—was holding firm.
It all came back to Kai.
In the East Stand, Billy was on his feet, pumping his fists.
"Unreal!"
"Young's been shut down twice now by Kai!"
"Ashley Young came in hot, but Kai just put him on ice!"
"Can you believe it? The Chinese kid we signed back then is now bossing one of United's best!"
Fans in the black jerseys couldn't hold back.
They had believed in Kai's potential—but this?
This was different. This was greatness in the making.
Two tackles. Two shutdowns.
United's entire left flank, rendered useless.
In the director's box, Meadows said nothing, but his eyes gleamed.
He watched Kai like a man seeing the future.
Those tackles? That was pure Arsenal.
That's it. That's the kind of football Arsenal should be playing.
...
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles—
"Unbelievable. Two clean steals—and he's only eighteen?"
Matt Damon's voice cracked with disbelief as he clutched a Kai jersey in both hands.
"This kid isn't just good—he's the future."
Tipsy and flushed, he waved the jersey like a madman, kissing the badge over and over.
He had been a fan before.
Now he was in love.
...
In Hong Kong—
"Amazing! Big Bro is incredible!"
Little Chan leapt from the sofa, clapping her hands in joy.
She didn't know the rules, but her dad's dramatic reactions told her all she needed to know.
Chen Yixun ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.
"Why can't he just pass? If you can't beat your man, then pass the damn ball!"
He stared at the screen, baffled.
Last year, Ashley Young was electric.
Today? A shadow.
...
Back at the Emirates—
Ashley Young's failed drives had Van Persie fuming.
"Don't go head-to-head with him! Use your speed—he's not that fast!"
Van Persie barked the order from up front.
Kai heard it. He turned, narrowing his eyes.
"Mind your own business, Van Persie."
The game surged on.
But the message was clear:
Arsenal's defense, with Kai at its core, was turning Manchester United's ambition into frustration.
Especially Kai—his constant interceptions and ball recoveries in midfield have repeatedly disrupted United's build-up play.
This guy's just everywhere.
On Manchester United's bench...
Sir Alex Ferguson squinted slightly, and the rhythm of his gum-chewing picked up.
Anyone familiar with Ferguson knew—this meant he was growing anxious.
United's offense was stalling, and this wasn't how Ferguson had pictured the match unfolding.
He had made a mental note of Arsenal's No. 4 before the game, but Kai's performance had far exceeded expectations.
Ferguson had coached Asian players before—Park Ji-sung being the most notable—but Park was more of a role player at United, not the core of their system.
But Kai? He was the heart of Arsenal's defensive setup.
What really caught Ferguson's attention was how Kai wasn't just holding his ground—he was actively organizing the defense, even directing their captain, Vermaelen.
Ferguson's eyes drifted toward the opposing bench.
There was Wenger, that familiar smile tugging at his lips.
Ferguson snorted and looked away.
"He's gloating. Absolutely gloating," he muttered under his breath.
On the Arsenal bench, Wenger let out a sudden laugh.
Pat Rice looked at him, puzzled. "What's so funny?"
Wenger shook his head. "Nothing at all."
Still, his gaze lingered on the pitch. Arsenal had issues of their own.
Arteta was slowing down the rhythm too much, which in turn was dimming Cazorla's brilliance.
The game plan had been simple: exploit the left flank.
Evra, now 32, was still holding his place in United's lineup—a feat in itself—but his pace and stamina had declined.
Ashley Young had been placed on that side to help mask Evra's defensive weaknesses.
Ferguson had tried to cover up the gap on the left, but Wenger had already seen through it.
Still, Arsenal needed to change the tempo now.
Wenger's eyes found Kai again. It was time for him to step up.
But Kai was under immense pressure.
Ever since Van Persie's tongue-lashing, United's wing play—especially through Ashley Young—had grown sharper and more direct.
Kai's job in the center had become significantly harder.
Rooney had also started pushing harder against Arsenal's backline.
Faced with this relentless assault, Kai was holding out—but only just.
United loved physical battles in midfield, and Kai didn't shy away from them.
He fought hard, toe-to-toe, preventing more pressure from reaching Arsenal's back four.
But even he had limits.
Eventually, the waves of attack started to wear him down.
Then came the moment.
As Kai moved over to cover the space Arteta had left behind, United suddenly sprang forward with a quick steal and counterattack.
It came out of nowhere.
Kai had sensed it coming—but this time, United went around him.
"Shit!" he cursed, turning to chase.
But United were already off to the races.
Rooney. Van Persie. Ashley Young. All sprinting.
Van Persie charged into the box while Rooney brushed past Jenkinson and curled in a low cross.
Van Persie clashed with Vermaelen, but still got the first touch—enough to poke it goalward.
Szczesny couldn't get there.
29th minute. Van Persie scores. United take the lead.
And just like that, the Emirates was swallowed by a wave of boos.
Van Persie stood up, hesitating—almost looking like he wouldn't celebrate.
Then, his expression shifted.
He sprinted to the corner flag and slid in celebration.
The boos exploded into a thunderous roar of outrage.
Near the penalty area, Kai stood frozen.
He couldn't get back in time.
His face darkened as he turned toward his teammates up front.
Their efficiency had been abysmal.
He couldn't keep filling the gaps in defense with no return on the offense, otherwise, United might run him into the ground.
They had created several good chances, but hadn't managed to get a proper shot off.
And even after that, nothing improved.
The forwards looked hesitant, almost scared. They overthought every move.
Cazorla's bursts lost their sting. He opted for safe passes rather than slicing through.
Everyone looked… off.
Kai's frustration grew by the minute.
What annoyed him most was how easily they went down.
Fine—draw a foul, sure.
But when you're charging into the penalty area with momentum on your side, don't dive.
Just finish the damn attack first. No bullshit diving.
Kai was furious.
With the attack in disarray, the defense came under even more pressure.
And Kai was completely shackled in his half, unable to contribute up front or organize transitions.
Still, somehow, he kept going. Gritting his teeth whilst dragging himself through the remainder of the half.
...
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