FORESIGHT Chapter 148 148: Two Points From The Summit

"Paris Saint-Germain, Juventus, and Real Madrid have all co to with offers for you," Barnett announced, scrolling through his phone as if it were just another Tuesday.

Kai raised his eyebrows. "Wait—didn't Casemiro just sign for Madrid?"

Barnett gave a casual shrug. "Apparently, they want soone even better. You can Google it if you don't believe ."

He paused, then added with a small grin, "PSG are the boldest. They're ready to put sixty million on the table and bump your wages to three hundred thousand a week."

Kai let out a low whistle and cracked a smile. "Classic PSG. Big wallet, bigger appetite."

"I figured you'd say that," Barnett replied.

"I'm not looking to leave," Kai said firmly, shaking his head. "Tell them thanks, but no thanks."

Barnett nodded. "I'll make it clear you're staying—for now. I'll phrase it as 'no intention to move at this stage,' just to keep every door open."

Kai accepted that with a quiet nod. Arsenal felt like ho now; the club, the supporters, even the North London weather had started to grow on him. The idea of leaving didn't appeal in the slightest.

By noon, their flight touched down in London. Barnett dropped Kai at the training ground before heading off to his next eting.

The mont Kai stepped inside, a staff mber caught his arm. "Wenger wants to see you."

Inside the office, Arsène Wenger stood by the window, a grey cardigan draped neatly over his shirt, spectacles perched halfway down his nose. Shelves of tactical notebooks and DVDs lined the wall.

"Congratulations on making Europe's Best Young Team," Wenger said without turning around.

"Thank you, coach," Kai replied with an easy smile.

"How many clubs have been in touch?" Wenger asked, finally facing him.

Kai blinked, caught off guard. "How did you—"

Wenger chuckled softly. "Experience. Award ceremonies like the French Football Gala aren't just for trophies. They're a marketplace for whispers."

Kai rubbed the back of his neck. "Three so far."

"We've had four offers," Wenger said, raising a brow. "PSG, Juventus, Real Madrid… and Chelsea."

"Chelsea?" Kai frowned. "That makes four."

"Mourinho never stops when he wants a player," Wenger said with a weary sigh. "He's been pestering since the season began."

…

Premier League – Round 14: Hull City vs Arsenal

The match was chaos wrapped in cold December air. By the 80th minute, the scoreboard read Hull City 4, Arsenal 5.

"Arsenal's attack has been relentless tonight," Martin Taylor observed on Sky Sports. "Everything's running through Kai, and they've carved Hull apart when they go forward."

Alan Smith added, "But you can see the cost. They've left gaps everywhere, and that's why Hull have been able to keep pace."

Taylor nodded. "It's a high-wire act. Great entertainnt, but rtesacker really felt the loss of Kai's protection in midfield."

Wenger had experinted, pairing Kai with Ramsey in a more adventurous double pivot. Going forward, it sparkled; defensively, it leaked like a sieve. Kai's surges left the back line exposed, and Ramsey, energetic as he was, couldn't replicate Kai's shielding presence.

By the 83rd minute, Wenger made his move, sending on Arteta and Flamini for Kai and Ramsey. Kai dropped onto the bench, sweat cooling fast on his skin, frustration flickering across his face.

Pat Rice leaned over. "How's it feel out there?"

Kai exhaled, shaking his head. "I'm not used to it. Offensively, it's fine, but I can't cover the back the way I should."

Pat offered a small, reassuring smile. "The boss will sort it."

Kai gave a brief nod, eyes drifting back to the pitch.

Wenger, arms folded, watched the closing minutes with a faraway look. The idea of unlocking Kai's full potential fascinated him: a deep-lying playmaker with defensive steel, sothing like Pirlo but in the unforgiving pace of the Premier League. The pieces weren't there yet. Without a partner of similar defensive instincts, the system would always creak.

Kanté ca to mind—a tireless midfielder plying his trade at Caen—but the French club was determined to hold on until sumr. Wenger could only sigh.

Arsenal held on for a 5–4 win, thrilling but fraught. Elsewhere, Liverpool thumped Norwich 5–1 to stay top, a reminder that the title race would punish any team that failed to balance artistry with solidity.

Arsenal sat second in the league, just two points adrift of the summit. Manchester City, Chelsea, Everton, Southampton—each of them lurked close enough to pounce. The title race already felt like a marathon run at a sprinter's pace.

...

On the training pitch at London Colney, the January wind cut through the afternoon session as Arsène Wenger halted a small-sided ga with a sharp whistle.

"Cazorla! Kai! Over here."

Kai jogged across the turf with Santi Cazorla at his shoulder. Wenger waited near the touchline; a notepad balanced in one hand and a pen scratching quick lines across the paper. His brow furrowed as he drew arrows and half-circles.

"Next phase, I want the two of you working in tandem," Wenger said, tapping the page. "Kai, you start the moves from deeper areas. Use the long pass when it's on, but do not push too high. If there's no obvious outlet, recycle the ball into Santi's feet and let him dictate from there."

Kai nodded, recognizing the ssage: tighten the back door first.

Wenger turned to Cazorla. "Santi, you must shoulder more of the creative burden. Your dribbling and passing are excellent, but choose the quicker release when possible. We need you to supply the final third before defences reset."

Cazorla offered a brisk nod and glanced toward Kai. "If you need a breather, I can drop in and cover for you."

Kai let out a short laugh and waved it away. "Better not. We'd both know that's just for show."

Santi grinned in return. His craft lay in slicing open defences, not shoring them up.

"Alright," Wenger said, folding the notepad. "Back into the ga. Put it into practice."

The pair jogged back onto the pitch, the ball already rolling again.

..

The tweak paid imdiate dividends. With Kai holding a slightly deeper line, Arsenal's shape settled. The back four of rtesacker, Koscielny, Vermaelen, and Sagna suddenly looked calr, their spacing tighter. The connection between midfield and defence—so often the team's weak link—began to feel solid.

Kai's understanding of the centre-backs grew more evident with each passing drill. He swept across the danger zones like a silent trono, intercepting, nudging, setting the tempo. rtesacker and Koscielny seed to rise with him, their clearances more decisive, their positioning sharper.

Yet the tactical restraint didn't mute Arsenal's attack. From his deeper station, Kai still sprayed diagonal passes that cut open the flanks, forcing the wide n forward. When the chance ca, he carried the ball himself, but always with one eye on the space behind.

For now, Wenger preferred a shared command: Cazorla as the spearhead orchestrator, Kai as the backfield conductor. If Santi was the field general charging ahead, Kai was the watchtower—an armored command post with cannons ready for the counter.

It wasn't quite the final system Wenger envisioned, but as the session wound down, the improvent was clear.