Kai was watching.
Not just the flow of the match, but the players around him. If he was going to be the spine of this team, then he needed to understand every teammate's habits and tendencies.
Starting with the midfield.
Guo Liang and Yu Hao might look a little similar, but their styles couldn't be further apart.
Yu Hao preferred stability. Maybe it came from being the one responsible for organizing play; he liked shifting the ball wide, toning down the pace, calming the rhythm.
Guo Liang, on the other hand, was the opposite—more direct, more daring. He liked carrying the ball and had the technique to back it up. He wasn't Cazorla by any stretch of the imagination, but in the attacking third, he could still carve out chances with a clever touch or two.
Then there was Chen Man.
His game hadn't changed. He still relied heavily on his blistering pace. Despite occasionally trying fancy moves, his true weapon remained that explosive acceleration. Kai could tell he'd gotten even faster—a little behind Bale at full stride. Once Chen Man pushed the ball past someone, the gap he created felt like a canyon.
If defenders didn't stop him at the first step, they would never catch him.
And then there was Wang Yi.
Kai had watched some of his matches before and initially saw him as a classic false nine—dropping deep, dragging defenders out, feeding the wings. With elite wide players around him, the possibilities were endless.
But Kai hadn't forgotten that Wang Yi originally came up as a traditional striker. His shift to a false nine was mostly to suit Paris Saint-Germain's system.
Frankly, Kai preferred seeing him play like a proper number nine again. China didn't have a true world-class striker, and Wang Yi might be the closest option.
Finally, the back line.
Fernando was dependable. His presence alone stabilized the entire defense. But he liked stepping up too aggressively at times. Kai wasn't sure where that habit came from, but with him anchoring the midfield now, Kairui needed to act more like cover, not a lone presser.
Once he had a rough grasp of everyone's roles and quirks, Kai exhaled lightly.
Enough of the warm-up football.
It was time to take charge.
He signaled to Yu Hao, then jogged a few steps forward.
"Kai's moving higher."
Assistant Coach Zhang Chen spotted it immediately, eyes brightening.
A few of the other coaches and even the team leader turned their heads. Their anticipation was obvious; this was what they'd been waiting to see.
After Guo Liang's attempted dribble was shut down, he laid the ball off to Kai.
Kai received it, opened his body, and quickly played it back—while gesturing for his teammates to adjust their positions.
The formation shifted like a tug-of-war rope, both sides pushing and pulling for control.
Under Liu Hongbo, the China Team's identity had been built around a high press—suffocating opponents in the final third, recovering possession instantly, and turning defense into counterattacks.
The benefits were clear: trouble pushed onto the opponent's doorstep, collective pressing, and a more aggressive, exciting brand of football.
But it demanded relentless stamina and precise execution.
And when the opposition had multiple players capable of holding the ball under pressure, the whole structure could collapse in an instant.
Still, the reserve team's pressing felt… amateurish.
Maybe it was because Kai had faced Bayern and Dortmund—clubs where pressing was a synchronized machine, not just frantic chasing.
"This isn't working," Zhang Chen muttered with a grin. "With Kai organizing, the reserves can't lay a foot on the ball."
The rest of the coaching staff nodded, their expressions tightening.
Kai was everywhere—showing for passes, distributing, dictating when to speed up or slow down.
And as he kept linking play together, the pressure from the reserve team unraveled bit by bit.
What caught everyone off guard wasn't just Kai's individual impact.
It was how quickly the main squad adapted to his rhythm.
Where the team's passing tempo used to have a lull and sounded like bang… thump… bang…, it was now bang-thump-bang!—sharp, crisp, one-touch combinations. When two touches were needed, the second touch immediately released the ball.
The coaches stared, wide-eyed.
No one had expected the entire team's style to shift so dramatically in such a short time.
In the past, Guo Liang and Yu Hao had both tried to raise the tempo, but it always ended the same way—the whole structure fell apart.
Their core players simply couldn't lift the team's overall rhythm.
Now, though, everyone looked comfortable. The passing patterns were smoother, cleaner, sharper.
Even under the opponents' aggressive press, they were still stringing together gorgeous combinations.
"This is what a real top-level midfield anchor brings you," Head Coach Liu Hongbo muttered, half in disbelief.
He had expected Kai's arrival to improve them, but he never imagined this level of transformation.
Watching this, he even felt the urge to turn the national side into a possession-based, high-control team.
Playing around opponents like this—it was competitive and entertaining.
But Liu Hongbo also knew this was only the surface.
Not far away, Kairui watched the reserves knocking the ball around confidently with Kai pulling the strings. A jealous sigh escaped him.
"Unbelievable… why do the reserve lads get to enjoy the core treatment first?"
In training matches, he usually ran himself into the ground trying to cover everything, yet the reserve defenders were suddenly playing as if someone had turned football into easy mode.
He kept reminding himself that once he and Kai played together, those benefits would come his way too.
Truth be told, nobody in the national setup was looking forward to Kai reporting for duty more than Kairui.
During last year's World Cup qualifiers, the defensive numbers looked solid—but only he knew how brutal those matches were for him.
If the holding midfielder lost his marker, he had to step up and press.
If the full-back got beaten, he had to slide over and cover.
Aerial balls, through balls, late runs—everything somehow fell on his shoulders and his partner's.
By the end of each match, he practically staggered off the pitch on cramped legs.
So yes, he desperately wanted Kai back.
Because what centre-back wouldn't want a defensive midfielder with that level of tackling, anticipation, and spatial reading?
He was a natural shield.
And after joining the national team, Kai didn't just meet expectations—he blew them apart.
Swap their shirts, and Kairui would've thought he was watching a European squad.
Nothing about this felt like the usual tempo of Chinese football.
Just as he was drifting in his thoughts, something flashed above him.
A ball. Sailing right over his head.
"Seriously?" he muttered. "A blindside pass?"
Kai had fired a sudden, disguised long ball that curved straight into the space behind the reserve full-back.
And Chen Man was already on the move, reacting the moment Kai shaped to pass.
His studs tore at the grass, exploding forward—first step gaining half a body length, second step leaving his marker for dust.
Guan Zhe stretched out instinctively, but Chen Man's jersey was long gone.
"Liu Dapao!" Guan Zhe shouted behind him in frustration.
Liu Kairui was already retreating, but even he couldn't match Chen Man's burst.
All he could do was watch as Chen Man stormed into the box, took two controlled adjustment steps, opened his body, and guided the ball into the far corner.
The net rippled.
"Lovely finish!"
"They've carved them open!"
"A textbook counter!"
Even the coaches burst into applause. The timing, the angles, the decision-making—everything was spot on.
And Kai had unlocked Chen Man completely. China's speedster was finally running at full throttle.
Everyone was smiling—except Kairui and the reserve defenders.
" That run was something else!" Kai called out with a grin as Chen Man jogged back.
"Had to show off a little," Chen Man said proudly, chest slightly puffed.
Since joining the national team, he'd been frustrated. Not everyone could pick out his runs the way his teammates at Porto did.
But now?
Kai's pass didn't just match his pace—it felt tailor-made.
No—better than anything he'd received at Porto.
It was as if Kai had measured his stride length and acceleration perfectly.
Once Chen Man hit full speed, all he had to do was stretch a foot out. The ball would be right where he needed it, waiting.
...
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