Chapter 118: Drag-and-Shoot the "Chicken" — The Non‑Human Gets Properly Wrecked
Beep!
After a rapid blast of the whistle, the referee pointed both hands to the center circle, signaling that the goal stood.
2–1!
In an instant,
the Emirates crowd erupted as if possessed.
Was that merely "hot and boiling"? No way.
Although Arsenal were at home, for most of the match Manchester United had controlled the game, attacking Arsenal's goal time and again.
The 1–1 scoreline teetered on the edge and could have been overturned at any moment by United.
Arsenal fans watched with their hearts in their mouths.
Just when nerves were at their peak, one man stepped up and carried Arsenal forward by himself.
What a hero — how could Arsenal supporters not be fired up?
And if that 2–1 held to full time, Arsenal would finally end a decade-long trophy drought.
That possibility sent Arsenal fans into even greater excitement.
Emma Watson and Cheryl leapt out of the VIP box and stood on the balcony, chanting Xia Qi's name with the Arsenal fans.
Thierry Henry and Dennis Bergkamp pounded their fists and roared from the south stand; at that moment they had no idol airs, they were just ordinary fans…
"Xia Qi!"
"Xia Qi!"
"Xia Qi!"
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
"Listeners, the Emirates is full of shouts of 'Xia Qi MVP'. Who would've thought one day our Chinese players would be cheered in football? I'm so moved — football has nothing to do with race. Sorry, getting off topic."
"Xia Qi being called MVP is deserved. When Arsenal were under pressure from Manchester United, Xia Qi stepped up twice; when the team needed him, he was never absent…"
After the referee's whistle, the goalscorer Xia Qi ran to celebrate with his coach.
He sprinted toward Wenger.
Balotelli, Kevin De Bruyne and others followed closely.
Three meters from the manager, Xia Qi planted his feet and leapt high, launching himself at Wenger in an NBA-style airborne dunk.
Wenger's temples were streaked with white hair — there was no way he could catch Xia Qi's tackle.
He gave no resistance and was toppled by Xia Qi,
the celebration turned into an "incident"!
Many people snorted and laughed.
But it didn't end there!
Those young lads didn't know their own strength. With Pat Rice and the fans screaming, Balotelli leapt on top and landed on Xia Qi.
De Bruyne, a little shy, hesitated when he saw Pat Rice object and stopped in his tracks.
He froze—but his mates didn't. Wilshere joined in, Luke Shaw jumped on as well, and after a moment's hesitation De Bruyne piled on too…
The club doctor rushed over, crouched down, and laughed.
Xia Qi was doing a push‑up position with the manager sheltered beneath him — in other words, the group were all piled on top of Xia Qi's back while he held a press-up.
Wenger was perfectly fine.
When the live camera zoomed in, the internet exploded.
"Holy shit! The core strength in that waist is unreal!"
"Chinese dragon! OMG, I report this — capture the beast!"
"My six‑year‑old can do a hundred press‑ups on my back, but if my 100‑kg wife sits on me I collapse after five… There are five or six big men on his back here — that's insane! Ridiculous strength…"
"Being a support is easier than doing press‑ups, at least you can just hold there."
"That's a little easier, but it's five or six big lads!"
On the other side of the pitch, when Xia Qi sprinted to the coach after his goal, Robin van Persie knew it was a reply to him. His face went ashen; he kicked a water bottle at the touchline in anger.
Sir Alex Ferguson's face didn't betray much, but his chewing gum cadence quickened and his hands trembled slightly…
You could tell Ferguson's mood was far from calm.
When he saw Wenger toppled by Xia Qi he happily pumped his fist in schadenfreude, but the next second he screamed for the medic to check on Wenger.
That next second was precisely the moment Balotelli — reckless and heavy-handed — hurled himself onto Xia Qi's back.
That exchange showed why Ferguson and Wenger's relationship was part rivalry, part comradery…
Wenger was well protected under Xia Qi; he flashed an OK sign to the medic under Xia Qi's arms…
Seeing that gesture, the Emirates erupted again.
Keep in mind Wenger was 64 years old — he shouldn't be subjected to this kind of rough treatment!
Relaxed, Arsenal fans suddenly found the scene heartwarming and full of passing-the-torch meaning.
You could interpret it like this: you protected us as we grew up; now we protect you.
Seeing Xia Qi cradle the manager moved many old fans to tears.
Some of them were older than Wenger and had watched Arsenal's long journey — they clearly knew what Wenger had sacrificed. Now the young eagles had grown up and were protecting their leader. Wenger's persistence had been rewarded, and emotions welled up; tears came to many eyes.
Xia Qi held the ground on his palms while five or six teammates lay on his back, and under his arms an old white‑haired man rested… that moment would become an eternal memory for a generation.
Play resumed.
United continued pushing quick attacks, but once Arsenal were relieved of the anxiety of worrying about conceding, the whole team adapted to United's rhythm.
The game became give-and-take, and Ferguson's grin slowly faded.
Near the end of the half, Luke Shaw slipped against Antonio Valencia, who, alert, whipped in an excellent cross.
Robin van Persie darted into the box and sneaked a tap‑in before Per Mertesacker could make the block.
The ball carved a strange arc that deceived Arsenal keeper Martínez — it sailed past the direction Martínez dove and into the net.
In a flash, Arsenal fans felt cold dread; shouts rang out across the Emirates…
Just as Manchester United seemed poised to equalize in the first half, a great clearance came flying in.
"Umtiti!"
"He saved Arsenal!"
Samuel Umtiti hooked the clearance with a bicycle‑style intervention and got the ball out of the box.
Arsenal had escaped; Martínez rose and hugged Umtiti tightly — warm applause filled the Emirates.
"Umtiti's clearance was as valuable as a goal!"
United had missed their best chance. After that both sides had no major opportunities and a minute later the halftime whistle blew.
Arsenal led Manchester United 2–1 for the moment.
But across most statistics United led comfortably.
United had eight shots to Arsenal's six in the first half; possession 55% to 45%; tackles won 13 to 8…
Frankly, Ferguson's coaching outplayed Wenger's in the first half…
In United's dressing room, Ferguson stood at the tactical board and began to analyze why United had dominance but no goals.
He replaced an exhausted Ryan Giggs with Nani, number 17.
"I know Arsène Wenger too well — he's doctrinaire in his tactics. At half we'll step up midfield control and push possession to sixty percent. Without Xia Qi's presence, what advantage does their all‑rounder give them?"
"We'll also double‑team Xia Qi higher up; don't wait till he drops deep to mark him."
Over in the Arsenal dressing room Wenger anticipated that very thought: "That old fox Ferguson will certainly step up midfield control in the second half.
We must strengthen our midfield battles and play efficient link‑up. Xia, I don't just want you to score — I want you to combine with your teammates.
Kids, since you chose to pursue both the league and the Champions League, treat Manchester United as we'd treat Real Madrid — use them as practice. Right now we're four goals down to a side with Ronaldo, Benzema, Modrić…
Beating Real isn't impossible if you make 1+1 greater than 2 with teamwork, instead of letting Xia Qi fight alone. Look at Xia's two goals — how much did the team contribute? If you keep relying on one man, what chance at the Bernabéu? Mourinho is a very good defensive coach.
If we have no hope of progressing, why go? Let's give you two days off, isn't that fine?
Have you made your decisions?"
Silence in the dressing room…
Xia Qi glanced at his teammates and gave a wink to the heir, Wilshere.
Wilshere slammed to his feet: "Boss, we want to try!"
"Try? You only try if you coordinate."
"Boss, it's my fault. I'll work more to link up with teammates."
Xia Qi stood up.
Wenger smiled wryly: "I want them to be as brave as you, not to make you mediocre like them."
De Bruyne stood too: "I'll push up half a position. I'll connect Xia Qi and Mario; Wilshere, I'll leave my back to you."
"Alright, I'll work with Cazorla, and—"
"Okay, let me come go crazy with you. For now forget Real Madrid — beat the faux‑Real here. Van Persie is a fake Ronaldo, Rooney is a fake Benzema… beat the pseudo‑Real and you'll go to Madrid. Otherwise stay home and watch."
"Beat the pseudo‑Real!"
"Crush them!"
…
So the two managers each anticipated the other's plans and set their tactics.
When the players emerged and Wenger had indeed made no changes, Ferguson smiled and chewed his gum with extra relish…
Second half: Arsenal kicked off; De Bruyne passed to Wilshere.
At the same time, Xia Qi and Balotelli made a crossing run up front; Xia Qi reached the edge of the box while two United defenders were marking him.
De Bruyne saw the front‑court movement and put up his hand for the ball.
Wilshere passed without hesitation, then sprinted forward, received the ball behind the newly subbed Nani.
Wilshere controlled, adjusted and slid the ball to Balotelli on the right.
Then he continued his forward run, occupying the space between Carrick and Phil Jones, signaling to Balotelli for a return.
Wilshere was close to Jones and Carrick; seeing himself tightly marked, he recklessly asked for the ball.
Carrick and Jones immediately closed in, but Wilshere didn't take the ball — he let it run through.
The ball rolled from right to left.
"Beautiful lay‑off!"
"That lay‑off landed perfectly onto Xia Qi's near spot."
Xia Qi sprinted forward at full tilt; Arsenal fans boiled over, wildly waving scarves and screaming hysterically: "Xia Qi!" "Xia Qi!" "Xia Qi!"
Shinji Kagawa and Valencia were caught off guard and failed to stop Xia Qi's burst.
Kagawa's speed wasn't a match for Xia Qi and he was quickly left trailing; Valencia chased hard from behind.
When Xia Qi slowed to control the ball, Valencia grabbed his left upper arm to prevent him from breaking free.
At the same time he tried to nick the ball with his leg — Xia Qi reacted quicker and shifted the ball from left to right.
Valencia's first attempt failed, so he tried another — his leg snagged and tried to trip Xia Qi.
But Xia Qi exploded off the ground, planting both feet and launching forward with massive force — he pulled Valencia along with him.
To prevent further fouls, Valencia's grab of Xia Qi's arm turned into Xia Qi grabbing Valencia's arm, squeezing it under his armpit.
Valencia was almost hanging off Xia Qi.
At that moment,
Valencia was overjoyed — he feared Xia Qi would break free.
Xia Qi, worried Valencia might try again, figured he'd "bait" him a little and give him some hope.
They were like Zhou Yu and Huang Gai — a mutually agreed trick.
Shoulder to shoulder, cheek to cheek, they ran side by side.
Their closeness made many women envious, ready to shout to Valencia: "You bastard, give me a turn…"
Valencia used everything he had to shove right, hoping to shove Xia Qi off balance or at least upset his dribble.
But Xia Qi hardly faltered; he dribbled as he always did.
Valencia seemed like an inconsequential accessory on his body.
"Holy shit! Is Valencia weightless?"
"This is insane — dragging Valencia along the turf."
"World number one, Lu Fengxian indeed!"
Arsenal fans went wild; many lost their voices but kept shouting until hoarse — the Emirates went mad.
Cheryl, seeing Xia Qi's ferocity, imagined his girth and wildly waved her jacket over her head in excitement.
Beside her Emma Watson had lost her prim lady image too, yelling like a lunatic: "Xia, I want to have your babies…"
Her voice was hoarse and harsh, but she kept bellowing…
All of this cut deep into Ferguson — he shouted to his defenders: "Stop him!" "Don't let him score!"
Jonny Evans immediately lunged at Xia Qi. Xia Qi performed a rightward pass motion during the sprint, with Balotelli making a run into space.
Evans shifted left to intercept; Valencia — still clinging to Xia Qi — suddenly executed a desperate body‑check!
This was Valencia's move he'd been planning — in the box it's often a tactic that doesn't always attract a card.
But Xia Qi's right foot dropped over the ball and hooked it to the left, dragging Valencia and Evans past!
Valencia left a deep furrow on the turf, but to no avail.
It was a laughable gesture with no real effect.
"Holy shit! Valencia is so weak!"
"Valencia's like a three‑year‑old! I envy his weight — like a toddler!"
"Valencia light? No, Xia Qi is just too strong! He's Majin Buu!"
"I'll take Majin Buu, forget Buu — Xia Qi is a footballing Li Xunhuan of Jiao Lao's version…"
On the pitch, Xia Qi feinted past Evans and, facing the keeper, leaned his body slightly toward Valencia's side.
Valencia, knowing Xia Qi wanted to shoot, threw every ounce of his strength downwards.
From the touchline Ferguson stamped his foot in frustration: "Use your feet! You idiot!"
Valencia dared not foul — it was the penalty area, and by now he'd short‑circuited, only thinking to hold Xia Qi.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull Xia Qi down. Even with Xia Qi's body angled 15 degrees, he didn't fall.
After getting enough lean, Xia Qi drove his right foot at high speed.
"Boom!"
A thunderous crack.
Under the whole stadium's gaze,
the ball became a white streak, rocketing toward the United goal.
De Gea was disappointed at Valencia's inability to stop Xia Qi's shot, but he was prepared.
Based on Xia Qi's lean and ankle rotation, De Gea launched a dive a second early.
Up in the air, De Gea congratulated himself.
If he hadn't gone that split second early, the ball would already be nestling in the net behind him.
Now he threw his whole body toward the top‑right corner.
2 meters,
1.5 meters,
1 meter — everything felt normal. De Gea felt happy and imagined his teammates worshipping him after a miraculous save.
At such close range stopping Xia Qi's blast would be superheroic — only a superhero could stop a superhero.
Soon,
0.5 meters,
the ball was right in front of him. De Gea could see the ball spinning violently; the spin looked familiar — like an "elevator" shot's inward curl.
An elevator ball must hide a reverse force inside to lose forward momentum mid-flight.
So the elevator's spin is distinctive!
De Gea's bad‑feeling alarm increasingly blared. He stretched his arms desperate to bat the ball away before it dropped.
At that moment, the ball plunged downwards!
Fuck!
Karmic jinx!
It really was an elevator ball!
Silence fell over the Emirates for three seconds!
What drama!
Xia Qi had dragged Valencia all the way and did a phenomenal nutmeg on Evans — explosive!
Not only did he show deceptive technique, he also had towing strength.
A perfect fusion of power and skill…
But De Gea was even more amazing — he'd read Xia Qi's read and rescued his team.
If De Gea had saved Xia Qi's shot, all of Xia Qi's earlier brilliance would have been De Gea's cloak.
The better Xia Qi was, the better De Gea had to be; Xia Qi would have been the foil.
Yet the plot twisted again.
Xia Qi's shot carried a trick — it was an elevator ball!
Under De Gea's horrified eyes and the crowd's stunned silence, the ball dropped sharply.
It bounced up and, before De Gea had landed, it crossed the line.
Beep!
The referee pointed to the center circle.
Boom!
The Emirates detonated!
This place had become a mass of ecstatic lunatics.
There were no normal people left.
Even mild‑mannered Wenger ran unconsciously along the touchline — do you still think anyone was sane?
Screaming "Xia Qi" wasn't enough anymore. Many fans tore off shirts and waved whatever they could.
Some even tried to vault the barrier onto the pitch…
Not just the Emirates — even the two commentators in the Penguin broadcast were a bit unhinged.
"Viewers, we're being absolutely owned — Xia Qi is not human!"
"Xia Qi dragged a man through a breakthrough and a dribble, then performed a drag‑and‑shoot on the 'chicken'. If that were all, you could call him a superhuman, but during the shot he tricked De Gea — in a flash he set a trap and produced an elevator ball. The vision, the decision, the technique, the power… it proves he's not human!"
"Oh, when I say 'drag‑and‑shoot the chicken', the 'chicken' is a weak chicken. Poor Valencia!"
["Can't stop laughing — in our republic founded on science and rejecting superstition, someone's preaching feudal mysticism? But strangely, I believe it."]
["Drag‑and‑shoot the chicken — weak chicken indeed. Please measure Valencia's psychological shadow area."]
["This is Xia Qi. Before his goals you never know how he'll score. His goals are always surprising yet make sense."]
["Congrats on Xia Qi's high‑level hat‑trick — but why am I not excited? It's as if this is normal."]
["Either a freak or not human. Strongly recommend a DNA test."]
On the pitch, after his goal Xia Qi ran along the touchline. Near the corner flag he leapt high, landed on both knees and slid, then as he came to a stop he crossed his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits, leaned back slightly and glared downward with scorn.
The whole sequence
drenched in swagger!
This was Xia Qi performing Kylian Mbappé's celebration — doing Mbappé's move so the "Mbappé director" was left with nothing to do.
By the sideline Ferguson still wore a dazed expression.
Damn, what a shock!
Ferguson knew Xia Qi was wicked; at halftime he had set up some plans.
But those plans were a joke in the face of absolute quality.
With his assistant, Ferguson only slowly regained his composure.
He glanced up at the LED screen with a wry smile.
But when he watched he was scared.
Xia Qi's brilliance shocked him, and what made his heart sink even more was Arsenal's forward interplay.
Xia Qi shone and drew attention, but on the replays Ferguson saw the stars clustered around the "sun"…
Trouble!
He'd underestimated Wenger.
Wenger's in‑game management had paid off and patched the glaring weaknesses.
What to do?
Answers, please — urgently!
(END CHAPTER)
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