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Chapter 183: Round Of 16, Second Leg 4
🕑 Added 2025-10-10 15:48:05 +0000 UTCNeuer lay sprawled on the turf, his face pressed against the grass as he turned to see the ball resting mockingly inside his net.
For a moment, it felt like déjà vu — a haunting echo from three years ago in Gelsenkirchen.
Back then, in the Champions League quarter-final, that damn Serbian had lobbed him from midfield — a moment that burned into football folklore and Neuer’s memory alike.
The pundits called it audacious. The critics called it reckless. And Neuer, the proud sweeper-keeper, carried the scars quietly.
Since joining Bayern, he’d rebuilt everything — his reputation, his confidence, his style.
But now, this young Chinese midfielder had ripped open that old wound with one brutal stroke of genius.
He’d dragged Neuer back to 2011 — back to humiliation.
The German’s expression shifted — from disbelief to anger, then to a cold, simmering rage.
His eyes locked on Kai, who was sprinting towards the corner flag, arms outstretched, swallowed by the deafening roar of the Emirates.
This kid again, Neuer thought bitterly. He’s done it to me — twice!
But Kai didn’t even glance his way. He was too busy soaking in the moment, racing toward the North Bank, his arms wide, his face lit with unrestrained joy.
The Emirates was unhinged.
Fans were on their feet, shouting, singing, and screaming his name — Kai! Kai! Kai!
The sound was electric, waves of red and white passion crashing against the stands.
“He’s unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable!” one fan shouted, clutching his head in disbelief.
“Kai! He’s just embarrassed Neuer! From halfway! What did we just witness?!”
“Thank you, football gods — thank you for giving us this lad!”
“I can’t breathe! That’s the goal of the season! Come On You Gooners!”
Every Arsenal supporter wore the same look — wide eyes, open mouths, and wild grins.
They’d dreamed of Arsenal scoring against Bayern… but not like this. Not with something this audacious, this beautiful.
A lobbed volley from the halfway line — art disguised as chaos.
Martin Taylor’s voice carried through the commentary box, still tinged with awe:
“He’s completely conquered this place. Look at that celebration — look at the reaction! Kai’s scored three goals in four games against Bayern now. The fans are absolutely worshipping him tonight!”
On the pitch, Cazorla came sprinting over and jumped on Kai’s back, laughing like a child.
Soon, the rest of the team piled in — Chamberlain, Rosický, even Mertesacker from the back.
The huddle was wild, chaotic, and full of joy.
This wasn’t just about the goal — it was about belief.
Inside that roaring circle, Arsenal’s players knew what their young captain meant to them.
At just twenty, Kai had become the heartbeat of the team — calm under pressure, fierce when challenged, and relentless when others faltered.
He had earned every ounce of their respect.
At first, his authority came through sheer intensity. But over time, it was his consistency — his performances — that made his teammates trust him.
Now, every player on the pitch looked to him instinctively.
Kai’s presence gave them clarity, direction — a sense of purpose.
As the celebrations began to settle, Kai put an arm around Suárez and turned back toward the center circle.
“Alright, that’s enough!” he said, his tone steady but firm. “We’re ahead, yes — but don’t let your guard down.”
The players nodded, their excitement tempered by his words.
Kai continued, “We’ve got one goal in. That’s good. But remember what we came here for — we want the quarter-finals. That means we beat Bayern. No mistakes.”
“Quarterfinals!” Cazorla shouted, pumping his fist.
“Quarterfinals!” the rest echoed, their voices fierce, unified, and full of fire.
As they jogged back to their positions, heads high and hearts burning, the stadium still thundered with their captain’s name.
On the sideline, Wenger, coming down from his emotional high, watched with a rare, wide grin, his eyes narrowing to slits from pure delight.
“He,” he murmured, “is a good player.”
Pat Rice nodded beside him, a proud smile forming.
“He’ll make an excellent captain for years,” Wenger said, his eyes still fixed on the pitch, where Kai’s name continued to echo around the Emirates.
Pat Rice nodded with a knowing smile. “If he keeps this up and helps Arsenal win more trophies, his legacy could even surpass Vieira’s — maybe every captain we’ve had in the club’s history. But only if he stays.”
There was a brief pause. Pat’s tone softened. “That’s what worries me, Arsène. He’s only twenty — and already playing like this. After this season, half of Europe will be trying to sign him.”
Wenger nodded thoughtfully. “I’m aware. That’s why I made a small adjustment to his contract. Any offer under fifty million euros — we can reject it outright without even consulting Kai.”
Pat raised his eyebrows. “Hmm. That’s a start, but why not raise it to $100 million? That’d at least make people think twice.”
Wenger chuckled, narrowing his eyes. “You’d be forcing him to leave at that point. Let’s not make the price so high it feels like a cage.”
Pat chuckled, conceding. “Alright, fifty it is. But let’s make sure he knows how much he’s valued here. Give him the best deal possible — he’s the captain now. Keep him in North London for life.”
Wenger smiled, watching Kai rally his teammates on the field. “That’s the dream for all of us, Pat. That’s the dream.”
..
Kai’s stunning lob had rocked Bayern Munich to its core.
They had been controlling possession, but now they were trailing — and worse, they’d been outdone by a moment of pure brilliance.
The goal hadn’t just changed the scoreline — it had rattled their confidence.
Bayern were still Bayern, of course — a team of immense experience and quality — but they now faced a tactical riddle. How do you break through an Arsenal side anchored by Kai, whose defensive reading seemed almost preternatural?
Ribéry and Robben tried relentlessly, swapping flanks, cutting inside, but Arsenal’s structure held firm. The Gunners’ midfield trio closed passing lanes like clockwork, forcing Bayern wide, then strangling them on the touchlines.
Even Toni Kroos, usually so composed, looked hesitant — each pass measured, wary of losing the ball to that one figure always lurking nearby.
Because Kai was everywhere.
By the 40th minute, Bayern’s attacks were sputtering.
Mandžukić stood isolated between Mertesacker and Koscielny, waving for service that never came.
Meanwhile, Arsenal’s confidence only grew. Their transitions were sharp, their pressing relentless.
Every tackle drew cheers. Every counter-attack looked like danger.
Wenger’s men smelled blood.
Kai’s strike had lit a fire, and the Gunners nearly added to it twice before halftime — once through Cazorla’s curling effort and again when Suárez forced Neuer into a full-stretch save that grazed the crossbar to go over it.
On the touchline, Guardiola’s calm demeanor began to crack. He paced, jaw tight, eyes darting from player to player.
This wasn’t the game he’d prepared for.
He just hoped they’d make it to halftime without conceding again.
And they did.
Arsenal led Bayern Munich 1–0 at the break.
..
In the Bayern dressing room, tension hung heavy. Players muttered to each other — blame and frustration simmering.
Then the door burst open.
“Enough!” Guardiola barked, slamming his tactics board onto the table. “Sit down!”
The room went silent.
He drew a quick sketch on the board. “We need adjustments. Our midfield is being suffocated. We’re not playing our game.”
Robben, still bristling, said stubbornly, “I don’t need freeing up. I can beat Kai. Just give me more time.”
Guardiola gave him a polite nod — more to keep the peace than agreement — and said, “Alright, then we’ll focus on freeing Ribéry instead.”
Robben’s mouth opened, but he stayed silent, biting his tongue.
“Listen,” Guardiola continued, his tone sharp and precise. “We need to control the rhythm in midfield. Right now, we’re getting bullied in there. Pass quicker, avoid unnecessary dribbles — don’t give Kai the chance to close you down.”
He pointed at Kroos and Schweinsteiger. “Bastian will dictate the tempo. Kroos, you focus on finding angles. Ribéry — I want you to start deeper, near the halfway line. Use your pace to break past Kai’s press and link up with Mandžukić.”
He turned to the Frenchman directly. “Forget the fancy touches near the box — I want direct runs from midfield. Once you’re through Kai, deliver the ball early. Mandžukić will drop off to support you.”
Ribéry nodded firmly. He understood — this was his battle now.
Guardiola stepped back, folding his arms. “We’ve been punched once. Now it’s our turn to hit back. Go out there and show them what Bayern Munich really is.”
The players nodded one by one. The frustration had turned into focus.
The mission for the second half was clear — break Kai, break Arsenal.
