Two hours later, Kai felt completely refreshed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel.
As always, training was the only reliable cure for fatigue.
And it helped with jet lag too—so why not?
By contrast, Wang Yi was slumped on the edge of the treadmill, sweat dripping down in heavy beads, his legs shaking uncontrollably.
Right now, Wang Yi was questioning his life choices.
Warm-up?
Was this really just a warm-up?
He was a breath away from collapsing.
He had no idea what Kai's usual training volume looked like, but it definitely wasn't normal.
"Is this how Arsenal normally trains?" Wang Yi managed to ask.
He'd heard Arsenal sessions were tough, but this felt excessive—borderline unreasonable.
Kai glanced over. "This is my volume."
Of course it was.
Wang Yi let out a helpless laugh. "You do this every day?"
Kai nodded. "Three years now. The first phase was brutal, but you adapt. And you know how it is—our squad depth isn't the best. When you're fighting on multiple fronts, you need the fitness to match. Without high-intensity work, it's impossible."
Wang Yi exhaled sharply. "Now I finally understand how Arsenal reached the semifinals."
If everyone at Arsenal trained like this… no, even half of this… their resurgence wouldn't surprise anyone.
"Come on," Kai said. "We've got the physical next."
"The physical my foot," Wang Yi muttered, too tired to censor himself. "Let me sit for a bit. I can't walk anymore."
Kai looked down at him. "You're too soft. If you ran into me, you'd bounce straight off."
Wang Yi shot back, "Then I'll just draw a foul!"
Kai shrugged. "Plenty have tried. None succeeded."
Wang Yi fell silent. Fair point—Kai hardly ever got booked, and he'd never been shown a red card.
"Alright," Kai said. "Let's head back to the room, shower, rest a bit—then we go for the physical."
"Fine, fine…"
...
Around 9 p.m., the National Team coaching staff gathered.
With the World Cup approaching, the pressure was immense—especially for a squad that had barely played together.
Kai was joining the setup for the first time, and with chemistry still unknown, they needed early evaluations.
"First, the physical reports," said Zhang Chen as he unfolded a stack of papers. "Overall, the players are in good condition. Apart from some injury risk with Chen Man, everyone else looks normal."
Then he pulled out a separate sheet. "But this one… you should all take a look."
The coaches leaned in and collectively froze.
A long, sharp gasp filled the room.
"Hiss—"
"What kind of numbers are these?"
"This strong?"
"Can an Asian player even hit these metrics?"
The disbelief spread around the table.
Zhang Chen nodded. "This is Kai's report. Muscle mass, activation, recovery—everything is off the charts. His coordination is also excellent. This kind of body doesn't appear overnight. It's been forged over the years."
No one disagreed.
They had never seen data like this on a China Team player.
Hearing this, Head Coach Liu Hongbo couldn't hide his grin.
"Our decision was right. A system built purely around Wang Yi improves our attack, but it doesn't fit this squad."
He tapped the table lightly.
"If we shift the focal point deeper, let the midfield dictate the tempo, increase our intensity between midfield and defense, and focus on a solid defensive structure… Kai becomes the trigger for our counterattacks."
Liu Hongbo continued, "Kai's passing range is huge. He can link up directly with Wang Yi, or combine with Chen Man the way he does at Arsenal—creating high-speed transitions."
"Even if he stays focused on defending and can't shoulder the creative load, Guo Liang and Yu Hao can push higher with fewer defensive burdens."
"And defensively, Kai and Liu Kairui complement each other very naturally—just like at Arsenal."
Excitement spread across the room.
"Publish the physical results," Liu Hongbo said. "Training starts tomorrow. We'll see the first real answers in the opening training match."
The room erupted with energy.
"Understood!"
"No problem!"
"Let's go for it!"
Even the coaches felt a surge of confidence. This might be the strongest China Team they had ever assembled.
...
"According to the National Sports Medicine report, overseas players, including Wang Yi and Kai, completed their final physical tests last night. The National Team squad is in good condition. Head Coach Liu Hongbo says players will begin integration training soon and will be evaluated in the upcoming warm-up matches…"
Northern China, Liaoning, SY City.
Le Jianguo listened to the TV and checked the date on his phone.
"Three more days… how am I supposed to wait that long?"
He sighed heavily.
A middle-aged woman stepped out of the kitchen with a spatula in hand, giving her husband a mix of a smile and a scolding look.
"Only three days left, and you're already losing patience?"
Le Jianguo turned toward her. "Don't you miss our son?"
Wang Peipei let out a light snort. "I video-called him last night. He even asked me to tell you he's doing fine."
Le Jianguo frowned. "Then why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid you'd bother him," she replied, sounding annoyed. "With how restless you are, you'd definitely bombard him with questions. He wouldn't say no to you, he'd end up sleeping late, and what if his training suffers because of it?"
She pointed her spatula at him. "And remember—our son isn't just ours anymore!"
Le Jianguo rolled his eyes. "How is my son not my son anymore?"
"Are you trying to get smacked?" she snapped.
He turned his head with a huff. "I'm not arguing with you."
Wang Peipei shook her head. "The whole country's watching him now. I heard the national team is depending on him to revive our football."
"Don't listen to that nonsense," Le Jianguo muttered. "Football isn't something one man can fix."
"What do you know!" she shot back.
As a long-time fan, Le Jianguo understood better than most. Since 2002, China has been qualifying for World Cups regularly. That achievement alone used to be the nation's dream—but expectations grew. After tasting the World Cup stage twice, with twelve years of buildup, fans were desperate to finally break into the knockout rounds.
And now, with the strongest squad China had ever assembled, hope was at an all-time high.
Many people said Kai had saved Chinese football. Strictly speaking, it wasn't wrong. The national team's biggest weakness had always been its midfield. Kai's emergence didn't just plug the hole—it changed the team's entire ceiling.
Fans' expectations for him weren't the same as for players like Wang Yi, Chen Man, or Liu Kairui. In those positions, China had backups. In the midfield? If Kai collapsed, the whole structure collapsed.
So yes—Chinese fans were excited, but also anxious.
And so was Le Jianguo.
He wasn't just Kai's father; he was also one of millions of supporters pinning their hopes on him.
"Go for it, son," he whispered, fists clenched.
...
At the national team's training base, an intense session was already in full swing.
"How many times is that now?" Wang Yi muttered, staring in disbelief at the pitch.
The coach had arranged a one-on-one attack-versus-defense drill. Each attacker tried to get past their assigned defender.
Kai and Chen Man were paired.
And Chen Man was once again remembering the trauma of being dispossessed by Kai back at Liga Portugal.
"What is this monster…" Fernando Kairui's jaw hung slightly open as he watched the duel unfold.
Twelve attempts. Zero successes.
Chen Man wasn't a flashy dribbler, but he wasn't helpless either. Once he picked up speed, he could break lines with power.
But today, he couldn't even get into stride.
Every attempt ended the same way: Kai reading him, stepping in, and cleanly shutting him down.
It was reaching the point where Chen Man looked like he was questioning life itself.
This wasn't defending. This was psychological warfare.
...
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