China wanted to waste ti, to control the pace, and whatever their plan was, it spelled trouble for Brazil.
For Brazil, this match was a transitional one. Ideally, they wanted to finish it quickly and conserve energy for the tougher gas ahead.
Now, with China deliberately slowing things down, Brazil had no choice but to press.
Le Kai had just passed the ball back to Fernando, only for Fernando to be tangled up by Fred. But Fernando reacted quickly, twisting and returning the pass.
Goalkeeper Tong Lei launched a powerful clearance.
Playing around in the backfield was one thing—but getting pressed by Brazil in their own half? That was a risk China couldn't afford. A lost ball here could easily beco a conceded goal. Their defense wasn't built to withstand relentless pressure—they were playing with fire.
Le Kai let out an inward sigh.
They couldn't stall for long. Brazil had regained montum within ten minutes, and now.
China barely had ti to breathe.
There was only one option left. Face them head-on.
"Man on!"
.
.
"Don't fall back! He's offside!"
.
.
"Fall back! Fall back!"
The pressure surged. As Brazil attacked, China's defense snapped back into high alert.
Le Kai ran tirelessly to contain the Brazilian advance.
But the brief rest from halfti evaporated instantly. The fatigue that had eased slightly was back, pounding his legs like lead. The substitutes were holding up okay, but the starters were feeling it—Le Kai included.
"Keep at it!" he shouted, gritting his teeth.
Every Chinese player threw themselves at the ball. Brazil couldn't reach the penalty area easily, and even when they got close, bodies flew to block every shot.
Brazil's attack was rciless. Neymar, Hulk, Fred, Oscar—they all pushed with crushing intensity. Tong Lei had to watch not just the imdiate attackers, but long-range threats from Neymar and Oscar.
Neymar surged forward. Le Kai hadn't yet closed him down. It looked like Neymar might charge straight through.
But then soone appeared from behind, clinging like a shadow.
"Don't think you can shake off!"
Chen Man panted in Portuguese, chest heaving from his full-speed sprint, but relentless in sticking to Neymar.
Even if Neymar broke through, Chen Man would chase him down, refusing to yield.
Neymar growled in frustration. He tried to cut inside—but bumped by the double team. And the ball was snatched from his feet by Kai.
"Le Kai!! He's there!"
Duan Xuan's voice cracked with excitent. Relief washed over him. If Chen Man had faltered, Neymar would have been through, and disaster would have lood.
Le Kai's tackle was rough but perfectly tid. He disrupted the play, took possession, and imdiately launched a counterattack.
China hit back fast.
Le Kai sent a long ball toward Wang Yi—but his pass wasn't clean. Fatigue had taken its toll; his legs and balance weren't allowing precise execution.
Wang Yi, though, was more than capable. His top-class ball control ant he could adjust mid-run, catch the ball cleanly, and turn in an instant.
Thiago Silva, familiar with Wang Yi from PSG, shadowed him closely. He knew Wang Yi could dribble past him in a heartbeat if given the chance.
Silva pushed forward as the ball descended, trying to unbalance him. Wang Yi's shoulder dipped slightly, but he recovered, controlled the ball, and stayed on his feet.
The stalemate continued—both players asuring each other's every move.
Then Fernandinho burst in from the side and stole the ball. Wang Yi steadied himself, hands on his hips, letting out a frustrated sigh. Silva allowed himself a small grin.
"Not this ti, Wang!"
Wang Yi rolled his eyes, spotting Brazil regaining their attack. China scrambled back into position.
Le Kai's presence remained vital, but how much longer could he maintain this pace?
He has been going full throttle during the tournant without being substituted out, and it was taking its toll on him.
"Wang Yi failed to get past Silva. Fernandinho grabs it, and Brazil's pushing again. At this speed, China's in a tough spot!"
Duan Xuan's worry was mirrored by millions of fans. Le Kai was soaked in sweat, breathing hard, and occasionally running to the sideline during the breaks for hydration drinks. The signs of extre fatigue were clear.
65 minutes in, the team was reaching its limit.
Bang!
Hulk shoved past Le Kai—sothing that had never happened before. Le Kai's legs had weakened, and Hulk took full advantage, whipping in a cross. Fred shot—but Fernando's interference sent the ball out.
"Damn it!" Le Kai swore under his breath, slapping his thigh. He could feel weakness in his legs—a worrying sign.
Duan Xuan's voice reflected what fans were thinking: "Le Kai's been pushed back by Hulk. His condition is worrying."
Even with fatigue, Le Kai's persistence shone through. The World Cup had demanded more from him than anyone else. Lasting this long was impressive, but the danger was evident: if he faltered, the team would suffer.
Chen Man approached, concern in his eyes.
"You okay? Can you keep going?"
Le Kai, head down and gasping, lifted his face. Sweat poured, eyelids heavy—but his resolve was unshakable.
"What did you say?"
"I—I'm just asking if you're okay!"
Le Kai said back: "I can't hear you!"
Chen Man hesitated, then shouted: "Holy crap! We've got to get you off the pitch."
Le Kai shook his head, vision narrowing slightly, aware that the exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm him.
Scorching heat. Intense match. Continuous sprints.
All of it combined to drain oxygen and liquids—and Le Kai knew exactly what he was feeling.
He drew a few deep breaths, straightened up, and said, "I'm fine."
"You—"
Chen Man began, but Le Kai's glare cut him off.
"Keep your voice down! You want to be subbed off or what?"
Chen Man pursed his lips. Part of him didn't want to see Le Kai leave the field; without him, China would almost certainly crumble. But as a teammate—and a friend—he knew he had to watch out for his physical limits.
"It's nothing. I'll manage. And if I can't… I'll leave on my own."
Le Kai waved dismissively, then sprinted toward the penalty area.
Chen Man clenched his teeth, watching his back, and muttered under his breath, "Let's give it everything we've got."
Brazil's corner was delivered by Neymar. Players clashed in the penalty area. After a chaotic scramble, Fernando cleared the ball, which fell to Le Kai.
"Chen Man!" Le Kai called, and when he looked up, Chen Man was already sprinting.
No niceties from Le Kai—he kicked a precise long pass, landing perfectly along Chen Man's path.
Chen Man kept his eyes on the ball, nudged it with his instep, and changed direction mid-run. He suddenly surged toward the center, catching Marcelo completely off guard. Marcelo tried to chase, but Chen Man's pace was relentless.
Breaking through, he entered the penalty area and unleashed a powerful shot.
"Chen Man! Beautiful first touch, into the box! Shoot!"
Duan Xuan's voice cracked with excitent. Chinese fans gasped; Brazilian fans tensed.
But the shot was central. Cesar caught it cleanly and flung it away.
"Damn it!" Chen Man swore, sprinting after the ball. As Oscar received it, Chen Man latched onto him, refusing to let go. Oscar struggled to shake him off but couldn't. Finally, after the pass, Chen Man released him and chased the ball again.
Comntator Tao Wei exclaid, "Chen Man is giving it his all! From the counter-attack's start, he hasn't stopped sprinting!"
Duan Xuan added nervously, "But he needs to manage his stamina!"
Under Chen Man's interference, Brazil's attack was disrupted. Le Kai and the rest had an easier ti defending. Wang Yi and Jia Zhenhua were also tracking back, pressing, and harassing—every bit of pressure counted.
Le Kai exhaled sharply, using every mont to catch his breath, replenish oxygen, and keep moving. Though not at full strength, the ringing in his ears and blurred vision had eased.
"I can still hold on," he muttered.
Then Brazil surged forward again, pulling China's defense to the left, and Neymar received the ball.
Le Kai's pupils narrowed sharply.
"Tong Lei! Long shot!"
Whoosh!
The ball tore into the net. Neymar's strike from outside the box had broken through again.
"Neymar! The genius of Brazil! He's done it again! China played hard, but this one's over!"
The Brazilian comntators shouted. Fans erupted in cheers. Chinese supporters watched helplessly, knowing their players had given everything.
Duan Xuan spoke solemnly: "The young n played with resilience and tenacity. But China's overall strength is simply too limited. Still, this match opens the door for the future of Chinese football. It's been a remarkable effort."
With the score at 2-1, China had no realistic chance of a coback. Players were exhausted; scoring now was nearly impossible. Even Le Kai was reaching his limit.
Chen Man crouched, staring blankly at Brazil celebrating. Heat burned, lungs scread, legs felt like lead. Passionate, intense sumr—it wasn't ready to end.
A hand patted his back. He turned and saw Le Kai.
"Can you still run?"
Chen Man blinked, catching the question. "Can you?"
Le Kai lowered his head, a faint smile on his sweat-soaked face. "If I say I can… will you co?"
Chen Man grinned, jumping to his feet. "I'll sprint another ten tis for you—believe it or not."
"Let's go!" Le Kai shouted. "It's not over yet!"
Players regrouped, then dispersed, patting each other on the back, clapping, and encouraging.
In the stands, Pat Rice asked, "Do you think they can keep it up?"
Arsène Wenger replied thoughtfully, "You an, are they going to give up after conceding?"
Pat smiled bitterly. "We all want to cheer for the underdog. I hope China doesn't quit."
Wenger's gaze softened, a small smile forming. "Do you think Kai would give up?"
Pat laughed, exhilarated. No—he wouldn't.
..
Wang Yi, at the center circle, saw his teammates' eyes on him. A nod, and after the whistle, the ball rolled forward.
Le Kai, for the first ti in the World Cup, moved into the opponent's half. Since the tournant began, he had mostly stayed deep, near the edge of the box. Now he was roaming forward.
"Le Kai's position is more advanced, isn't it?" Duan Xuan remarked.
Tao Wei nodded. "Definitely. Coaching likely wants the players to savor these final monts, so they tweaked the tactics."
On the field, Le Kai ran tirelessly, fully imrsed. High-intensity match, strong opponent—this was what made football beautiful.
Che Jingdao and Hulk battled for the header. Le Kai reached the second ball first. Oscar tried to push him aside—but Le Kai didn't budge. As the ball dropped, he leaned forward slightly, lifted his thigh, and received it cleanly on top of his foot. A quick flick, and the ball slid through Oscar's legs.
Le Kai bypassed him smoothly, carrying the ball into the opponent's half for the first ti in this tournant. Wang Yi and the others pushed up, challenging Brazil's defense.
...
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