T/N: This will be the final chapter for this week. Reopening is scheduled for the weekend, and classes begin next week as I enter my final year. I'll be using the coming week to prepare for college and build up a backlog of chapters.
Thank you all for the continued support.
— GRANDMAESTA_30
...
Marcelo and Dani Alves posed a serious threat.
This was arguably Kai's greatest concern.
With Hulk and Neymar already applying sustained pressure, the forward surges of Marcelo and Alves would only magnify the burden on China's defense.
One mistake—just one lapse—and the entire back line could collapse.
Oscar was playing aggressively, his gaze constantly shifting, searching for weaknesses.
He had been outstanding throughout this World Cup—arguably even sharper than he had been in league play.
That form gave him immense confidence.
And more than anything, he wanted to prove something—to that Portuguese man.
If Kai could do it, then he believed he could do it too.
And better.
With that in mind, Oscar drifted toward the left flank.
His eyes locked onto Chen Man.
Fast—very fast—but riddled with flaws.
This was the breakthrough point.
China's counterattacks relied heavily on Chen Man's speed.
As expected, under intense pressure, center-back Gao Leiliang opted for a long ball toward Chen Man's side.
Marcelo stepped up immediately.
So did Oscar.
The pressure on Chen Man doubled in an instant.
Chen tried to bring the ball down, but with two men closing him off, he couldn't complete the movement. All he could do was watch as Oscar cleanly took possession.
Still, Chen Man didn't give up.
You lose the ball—you chase it back.
He wasn't great at tackling, but he could use his pace to harass relentlessly, sticking close and making life miserable.
Oscar, clearly uninterested in engaging further, slid the ball across to Neymar and pushed forward himself.
Brazil was on the attack.
Kai retreated immediately, moving into Neymar's lane.
Brazil's entire offensive structure mainly revolved around Neymar.
Contain him, and the majority of Brazil's offense was clamped.
Neymar advanced with the ball, eyes up.
Kai lowered his head slightly, posture tight, reading every movement.
Suddenly, Neymar nudged the ball to his left.
Kai followed.
Then—without warning—Neymar hopped lightly and swept the ball laterally to the right with the inside of his foot.
Kai's expression changed instantly.
Marcelo was already charging forward, collecting the ball and slipping past Kai's defensive line.
The line was broken.
Kai turned and chased, but Marcelo released the pass immediately.
Kai stretched a leg instinctively—too late.
"Middle! Watch the middle!"
Kai shouted as he spun around.
Fred had already slipped behind Gao Leiliang and struck first time.
The shot went straight at goal, and Tong Lei reacted with a full split save.
But the ball stayed alive inside the box.
Guan Zhe rushed in, desperate to clear.
Then—a flash of yellow.
Oscar burst between them, took a touch, and fired.
Tong Lei had no time.
The ball hit the net.
For a moment, the Mineirão Stadium erupted.
Brazil led 1–0 in the 16th minute.
The Brazilian fans roared in celebration.
This goal all but sealed their place in the quarterfinals.
On the other side, Chinese supporters could only shake their heads.
There was little they could have done.
Once Kai's defensive line was breached, the structure behind him weakened instantly.
Gao Leiliang failed to stay with Fred, allowing the first shot.
And Oscar's follow-up was decisive.
The Brazilian players celebrated wildly.
The stadium was alive.
The Chinese players stood in silence.
Kai planted his hands on his hips and shook his head.
Neymar's pass had been too sudden—executed in the same instant as the feint.
Kai had read it with Foresight.
But his body couldn't react fast enough.
You can't give him space.
Get tight. Get closer.
Kai reminded himself.
Neymar didn't just beat players—he created options.
Kai wasn't afraid of one-on-one duels.
What he feared were those split-second passes.
Just like that one.
The situation was now unfavorable.
China was behind.
For the first time in this World Cup.
In the group stage, they had drawn against the Netherlands and Spain—results shaped by grit, timing, and a bit of luck.
But this time?
Luck wasn't with them.
They had conceded against the host nation.
Now came the real question:
How do you fight back?
"You two are dropping too slowly," Kai said as he approached Jia Zhenhua and Chen Man.
"When their full-backs push up, you have to track them."
Chen Man had focused entirely on Oscar, missing Marcelo's overlapping run.
Kai felt he had to say something.
Chen Man gave a bitter smile.
"Attack and defend at the same time? That's a bit much, isn't it?"
Kai sighed.
"Do we have another choice?"
Chen Man didn't answer.
Jia Zhenhua spoke up from the side.
"We can drop back and restrict them, but midfield support is critical. Yu Hao avoids physical contact—you need to get him involved. Even if he can't win the duel, he has to slow them down."
Kai nodded.
"I'll talk to him."
In the commentary booth, Duan Xuan sighed.
"Brazil has taken the lead. This is very bad news for us. Throughout this World Cup, China has been playing from level or ahead. We don't know how they'll respond when chasing the game."
After a brief pause, he added firmly,
"But we must believe in these boys. They won't give up."
Tao Wei nodded beside him.
"Once Brazil's full-backs started pushing forward, the pressure increased sharply. Kai can't mark multiple threats alone. Someone has to limit Marcelo and Alves."
Those two advanced full-backs were now China's biggest problem.
After the brief celebration, China returned to the center circle.
Wang Yi placed his foot on the ball and glanced at Kai.
The whistle blew.
Wang Yi tapped the ball back.
Kai returned it to the center-back.
"When China kicks off while trailing, what choices will they make?" Duan Xuan asked.
On screen, China stuck to its original system.
But Chen Man and Jia Zhenhua increased their up-and-down running significantly.
When they pushed forward, Marcelo and Alves tracked them.
When the Brazilian full-backs advanced, the roles reversed—Chen Man and Jia Zhenhua dropped back to contain them.
It looked awkward.
But it worked.
Kai remained focused on Neymar.
He was Brazil's core.
He had to be contained.
At the same time, Kai kept an eye on Oscar.
That man's subtle movements were infuriating.
But tactically, Oscar was doing exactly the right thing.
Brazil continued to attack in waves.
China stayed compact and stubborn.
They pressed while looking for counterattacks.
But their pressing efficiency was far higher in their own half.
In the attacking third, they could not press effectively.
This limited their counter-attacking threat.
Still, they weren't panicking.
Under Kai's direction, they were slowly adjusting to the rhythm.
Oscar, buoyed by his goal, continued observing.
He felt confident—confident enough to believe he could dominate Kai today.
Guo Liang stayed close to him, but posed little danger.
Oscar moved freely, passing, receiving, dictating.
Guo Liang's harassment was annoying—but ineffective.
Seeing teammates ahead of him, Oscar stepped forward and asked for the ball.
The pass came.
At the same time, a voice shouted—
"Careful!"
Oscar ignored it.
Guo Liang wasn't a threat.
He carried the ball forward, trying to turn.
Then—
A crushing force hit from behind.
Oscar's face changed instantly.
That wasn't Guo Liang.
A foot stabbed through his legs, hooking the ball away—forcefully, almost rudely.
Oscar froze.
He tried to fall, to sell a foul.
Too late.
He turned—
And saw the large number 4 on the jersey.
Oscar clenched his teeth.
"Kai…!"
After winning the ball, Kai turned instantly and burst forward.
His dribbling wasn't flashy, but with Brazil fully committed high up the pitch, it was more than enough to ignite a counterattack.
Once the route was clear, Kai committed.
The roar of the crowd and the rush of wind blended as he pumped his arms and drove forward.
"China is breaking! Kai is charging forward!"
Duan Xuan's voice rose sharply.
"This is a golden opportunity for a counterattack!"
That interception on Oscar had been decisive. From that single moment, China's counter-attacking structure formed almost instinctively.
Wang Yi and Chen Man were already ahead.
Guo Liang and Jia Zhenhua were pushing up in support.
This wasn't hopeless.
This was dangerous.
Kai accelerated again. His top speed wasn't elite, but once he settled into rhythm, it kept climbing—more than enough for this moment.
He wasn't reckless, though.
As Fernandinho rushed in to close him down, Kai released a diagonal pass toward Chen Man.
Fernandinho turned his head—
And in that split second, Kai surged past him without the ball.
"Damn it!"
Fernandinho spun and chased.
Kai received the return pass immediately.
"A beautiful one-two!"
Duan Xuan clenched his fists, narration forgotten, eyes glued to the pitch.
This counterattack was a tidal wave—and Kai was at its center.
In previous matches, even during counters, Kai rarely pushed this far.
Now?
He was charging straight toward the edge of the penalty area.
Brazil's defenders scrambled backward.
David Luiz stepped out aggressively, attempting to coordinate with Fernandinho to shut him down.
The moment David Luiz advanced, Kai slowed.
He lifted his head.
In a flash, he scanned the field—Chen Man, Wang Yi, Jia Zhenhua, Guo Liang.
No clean passing lane.
In league play, Kai might have recycled possession.
But this wasn't the league.
The chance was here—and fleeting.
David Luiz and Fernandinho closed in together.
Kai rolled his right foot over the ball in a feint.
David Luiz wasn't fooled.
Agility had never been Kai's strength.
But it didn't matter.
Kai stopped dead.
He dropped his center of gravity, bracing himself.
Fernandinho, unprepared, crashed straight into Kai's back.
"Ugh—!"
The collision stunned Fernandinho—and distracted David Luiz.
That was all Kai needed.
His calves tensed, power surged, and he exploded forward.
One stride.
Two.
He gained a full body length of pitch space.
At the same time, Wang Yi began his run, slipping in from Thiago Silva's blind side.
Kai drew his left leg back—shaping to shoot.
David Luiz panicked, sliding in to block.
Kai snapped his foot back and instead struck under the ball with the tip of his boot.
The ball lifted.
It sailed over David Luiz—
And over Thiago Silva.
Thiago Silva looked up, preparing to jump.
Too late.
As he turned, a sudden impact hit his back.
Someone was there.
Wang Yi had already circled around him, using his body just enough to disrupt the turn.
It was subtle.
But decisive.
Wang Yi locked onto the ball.
He pushed off, leaping at an angle—perfect for a far-post attempt.
The Brazilian goalkeeper was guarding the near corner.
In mid-air, Wang Yi arched his back like a drawn bow—
And snapped forward.
Bang!
The strike was thunderous.
Fast.
Relentless.
Even if the goalkeeper reacted instantly, it wouldn't have mattered.
The ball tore toward the far corner.
For a split second—
Silence.
Chinese fans froze, hands over mouths.
Brazilian supporters stared, stunned.
Then—
Whoosh!
The ball hit the net.
The white mesh rippled violently.
Goal.
Mineirão fell silent.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Wang Yi sprinted toward the corner flag.
And the world exploded.
Chinese fans erupted—leaping, screaming, arms flung into the air.
"GOAL!!!"
Duan Xuan roared, voice breaking.
"Just four minutes after Brazil scored—China equalize!"
"A flawless counterattack!"
"Kai to Wang Yi—lightning fast!"
"These two were absolutely brilliant!"
"And credit to the entire team—China once again shows their lethal counter-attacking quality!"
Duan Xuan slammed the mute button, tore off his headset, and jumped to his feet.
"Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable!"
Tao Wei laughed wildly.
"That's insane—absolutely insane!"
The entire broadcast room erupted.
Producers, directors, technicians—everyone shouting, hugging, pounding desks.
Across China, the early-morning silence was shattered.
Cheers burst from apartments, dorms, bars, and karaoke rooms.
"GOAL!!!"
"Kai!!!"
"Wang Yi!!!"
The night sky trembled.
On the pitch, the Chinese players celebrated wildly.
"Yes!!"
"It's level!"
"Let's go!"
Kai wrapped his arms around Wang Yi and lifted him off the ground, fierce and unrestrained.
On the bench, the coaches were euphoric.
Twelve years.
Twelve years since that 5–0 defeat.
Now, against the five-time world champions—
They had struck back.
They had breached Brazil's goal.
How could anyone stay calm?
Ouyang Fei sat on the bench, fists clenched, eyes fixed on the field.
Pride surged through him.
Wang Yi's composure in front of the goal.
Chen Man's terrifying speed.
Kai's control of the match—even against Brazil's midfield.
These were players he still couldn't reach.
And yet—
Watching them made his resolve burn hotter.
I want to be out there.
But he understood his role.
His World Cup wouldn't begin until the next one.
Four years.
Four years to grow.
Tonight, he had seen the standard.
And he silently swore—
He would become someone worthy of standing beside them.
...
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