Chapter 19: Graceful as a Frightened Swan, Like a Dragon Playing at the Shore
Amidst the "Ding-dong" sound, Xia Qi rushed toward the football. Under the gleeful, celebratory gazes of the Southampton players—who were wild with joy, thinking they had escaped disaster—
He met the ball and executed a Panenka chip shot.
The football traced a rainbow arc and hung into the net.
At this moment, the look of joy on the Southampton players' faces hadn't even fully faded.
"Graceful as a frightened swan casting its reflection; like a divine dragon playing by the shore."
"Picking up a loose ball once might be luck, but twice is ability!"
"Top-tier goal sense, a natural-born shooter."
Xia Qi scored on the rebound again. The joy of recovering what was lost detonated the Emirates Stadium. Above the stadium, there was only one word: Xia Qi!
In this scene and moment, Xia Qi really wanted to stand below the stands and open his arms to embrace the fans, or run toward his parents' VIP box and bow.
But he couldn't do it.
The Ice Cream Prince is cute but unapproachable, face streaming with tears.jpg.
"Hooiveld, you are responsible for man-marking that kid."
The Southampton manager was anxious. Xia Qi's double-kill was entirely caused by his own players' negligence. If his players had been a bit more focused, how could that kid have succeeded?
Wenger really knew how to teach kids. Look at Xia Qi's attitude toward the game, then look at his own team.
The Southampton manager felt that losing wasn't unjust, but he was determined to rectify their combat discipline once they got back.
The match continued.
Facing the Premier League giant Arsenal, Southampton was already the underdog. Losing wasn't shameful; what they feared most now was a massacre!
After being "tower-dived" by Xia Qi twice in a row, they felt like their entire bodies were full of holes. Adopting the mindset that a small loss was a win, they started playing the "park the bus" tactic.
With a bus parked in front of the goal, Xia Qi's speed and goal sense... all became useless.
It was the seasoned Podolski who was more cunning, sneaking into the penalty area first to wait for his teammates to "feed him cakes" (assist).
Seeing that there was already a pivot point in the box, Xia Qi didn't go in. He stayed on the perimeter of the penalty area, making fancy off-the-ball runs.
Digging into your armpit here, poking your ticklish spot there—it wasn't lethal, but it really messed with people's heads.
The most miserable one was Hooiveld. He followed Xia Qi every step of the way.
If Xia Qi went east, he went east. If Xia Qi went west, he went west. If Xia Qi went left, he... lost him.
"Watch him, Hooiveld! Don't let him in!"
"Hooiveld, how could you lose him? That was so dangerous just now!"
"Hooiveld, how could you let the Chinese boy combine with the German?"
Hooiveld was going crazy. No one saw his hard work and effort, but the moment he made a slight mistake, he was condemned by a thousand pointing fingers.
For the first time in his life, he hoped to leave the field injured. Because leaving due to injury made you a hero; fleeing battle made you a coward.
On the pitch, Arsenal's offensive was like a tide, but it was more intense than it was brilliant. Even the shots from the cheat-user Xia Qi were hitting opposing players, let alone those without cheats.
Time wasted away like this. Southampton seemed to have found a way to deal with Arsenal.
As time passed, the frequency of Hooiveld being blamed by teammates grew higher and higher.
Seeing Xia Qi become more slippery and harder to deal with through one "failure" after another, the Southampton manager was hesitating whether to switch markers when Xia Qi suddenly moved.
Arteta lived up to being someone aspiring to be a coach; he read Xia Qi's movement.
Just as Xia Qi sprinted forward, Arteta sent a ground-hugging through ball that landed exactly on Xia Qi's path.
The two were like twin flowers, understanding each other perfectly.
This kind of tacit understanding was the foundation of the Invincibles-era Arsenal's fluid, mercury-like attacks. Unfortunately, it had been lost for a long time, but now, with a flash of inspiration, it reappeared in the wider world.
Xia Qi slowed down to stop the ball. Fonte cursed, "Trash!" and pounced rapidly toward Xia Qi.
Hooiveld, who had now developed immunity to his teammates' scolding, wasn't affected and chased frantically behind Xia Qi.
Xia Qi slowed down, Fonte sped up; it looked like an interception was imminent.
But suddenly! Xia Qi slammed on the gas and accelerated.
He flicked the football outward with the outside of his foot, posturing as if he were going to drive down the byline along the edge of the penalty area.
Fonte wasn't simple either. Seeing that Xia Qi wanted to shake him off with a simple change of rhythm, he let out a cold snort.
While sprinting forward, he actually forced his waist to twist, turning 90 degrees mid-run, baring his fangs and claws as he aimed for Xia Qi again.
Just as the whole stadium was marveling at the black brother's super physical flexibility, Xia Qi cut the ball back again with the inside of his right foot. Immediately, he dragged it left with his toe, switched to his left foot, pushed it forward, twisted his waist, and changed direction!
He had turned it into an inside cut!
"Wow! Xia Qi's waist is so good. His skills in bed must be not bad either. I really want to be his girlfriend."
"Whoa, this change of direction is as silky as Dove chocolate."
In a flash of lightning, both men twisted their waists and changed their directions.
Fonte, unwilling to let Xia Qi escape just like that, tried to adjust his center of gravity again.
But gravity stopped indulging him. With a "thump," the whole man collapsed to the ground.
Witnessing all this, the fans at the scene gasped in unison. A Messi-style ankle-breaking dribble?!
Zhang Lu cried out in surprise, "Xia Qi with a criminal dribble, shaking Fonte to the ground..."
Seeing Fonte shaken down and Xia Qi cutting into the box, Hooiveld was frantic inside and chased even harder.
Panic erupted inside Southampton's penalty area.
Fox rushed toward Xia Qi. Xia Qi chopped, slowed down, flicked, accelerated.
Fox was far inferior to Fonte.
He was shaken down by a rhythm change from Xia Qi that couldn't have been simpler.
Victim +1!
Clyne immediately stepped up to plug the hole. Xia Qi wanted to repeat his old trick, but Hooiveld chased back in time. He defended from the front, cutting off the possibility of Xia Qi changing direction again.
Although the front-and-back coordination between Clyne and Hooiveld was brilliant, it was far from enough to steal the football from the AI-controlled Xia Qi.
Xia Qi was fantasizing about fighting like Zhao Zilong at Changban Slope, but the AI chickened out and passed the football to Podolski, who was in a 1v1 position.
Podolski, with his back to the goal, leaned against Ward-Prowse. After receiving the ball, he nudged it lightly to the right, then turned rapidly and unleashed a windmill shot.
Although Ward-Prowse couldn't stop Podolski's fluid motion, his actions still served as a disturbance.
The football hit the crossbar again!
"Ding-dong..."
Xia Qi rushed forward; the Southampton crowd swarmed to block.
Having been "chicken-stolen" (goal-poached) twice, the Southampton players had gained defensive experience against theft.
The Southampton manager also let out a long sigh of relief and sat back down on the bench with peace of mind.
In the crowd, Xia Qi raised his leg to stop the football and looked up at the goal. Just as the defenders thought Xia Qi was going to shoot...
He turned his body sideways, swung his leg, and sent the football through the gap between Hooiveld and Clyne.
Podolski made a short sprint, beating Ward-Prowse to the punch before he could lift his leg, and poked a shot with the flow.
The football grazed Ward-Prowse's toe and rushed toward the far corner of the goal.
Goalkeeper Davis dove sideways rapidly, but he was still a hair's breadth away.
Podolski's maiden Premier League goal account was open.
3:0!
Only 32 minutes into the opening, Arsenal led by three goals.
After scoring, Podolski rushed toward Xia Qi, held Xia Qi's face with both hands, looked straight into his eyes, and shouted loudly, "Thank you for the assist! Thank you for feeding me cakes twice."
How could Xia Qi respond? He forcefully tried to walk back.
The excited Podolski simply jumped onto Xia Qi's back, clamping his waist and wrapping his arms around Xia Qi's neck, continuing:
"Xia, you're too cold. If it weren't for the joy and excitement in your eyes, I would have thought you didn't like me scoring.
I'm silly too. If you didn't like me scoring, you wouldn't have assisted me three times..."
The emotion in Xia Qi's eyes was genuine.
He had stolen two kills in a row, thinking the system was making his teammates miss. But when Podolski scored, Xia Qi realized he had overthought it, and the "guilt" of kill-stealing vanished.
He was truly happy. Playing without a burden was true happiness.
He really wanted to tell Podolski, Chamberlain, and Walcott: You guys shoot boldly with peace of mind! Your little brother is here to cover the bottom line!
Tonight, let us bloodbath Southampton!
(END CHAPTER)
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