The first day of filming wrapped up quickly. On the second day, after coordinating with Arsenal Football Club, the production team received special permission to observe a training session.
That was when they truly witnessed what Kai meant by a high-intensity two-hour workout.
Before the internal training match had even begun, the squad had already completed thirty-two shuttle runs. It was the kind of load that left even seasoned professionals breathing heavily.
And yet, the session wasn't over.
Straight after that, Arsenal moved into a full training match.
At that moment, the production team finally understood what elite-level football really demanded.
The overall session didn't last long after that. Arsenal soon shifted into tactical drills—an area strictly off-limits to cameras.
They were preparing for the next league fixture.
In the second round, Arsenal would travel to face Everton.
The Toffees had been impressive over the past few seasons, known for their tough, traditional English style and their ability to produce fiercely contested matches.
Their biggest issue, however, was consistency. Against top sides, they often struggled to sustain their level.
Even so, Arsenal couldn't afford to take them lightly.
Everton had invested heavily ahead of their Champions League campaign. Their headline signing was Romelu Lukaku, brought in for a fee of €36.37 million.
The powerful striker—nicknamed Big Rom, with his short afro—had once again been discarded after a single season at Chelsea.
This time, Lukaku had clearly lost patience. He chose Everton to restart his career and prove his worth.
His performances in pre-season and training had been encouraging. Though he hadn't found the net yet, he showed strong presence and effectiveness as a central striker.
This match against Arsenal would be a genuine test.
Could Lukaku recapture the form he showed during the 2012–2013 season with West Bromwich Albion—especially against a reinforced Arsenal side led by Kai?
Could he deliver on such a big stage?
And for Arsenal, the question was just as clear: could they take all three points at Goodison Park and maintain the momentum from last season?
All the answers would arrive in Round Two of the Premier League.
...
On August 24th, Arsenal arrived at Goodison Park.
Everton, having been held to a draw in the opening round, were desperate for a win. Facing the reigning league champions so early in the season, however, was hardly ideal.
Still, Everton manager Roberto Martínez struck a confident tone before kickoff, insisting that while Arsenal were strong, Everton feared no challenge and would make them suffer at Goodison.
Arsène Wenger responded coolly, brushing off the comments and stating that Arsenal was getting the three points.
The match hadn't even kicked off, yet the tension was already evident.
Meanwhile, the CCTV production team also made the trip to Liverpool, renting a car to capture footage of the match.
"Wow… there are so many people!"
As the van door slid open, a young woman stepped out in an Arsenal shirt, long black hair falling over her shoulders. Her voice carried both excitement and curiosity.
It was Ma Fanshu—Xiao Ma—whom Kai had met earlier.
She had joined CCTV only the year before, but through a series of assessments had earned her place on the Journey of a Superstar documentary team.
Though relatively new to football, she was diligent. She studied relentlessly, already familiar with basic tactics and club histories, though player recognition still required time and match experience.
The crew gathered and moved toward the stadium entrance together.
Ma Fanshu held a match briefing sheet, packed with statistics, player profiles, and historical data.
She clearly supported Arsenal—Kai had influenced that—but she was also visibly nervous.
"Height: 190 centimeters. Weight: over 200 pounds…" she muttered, staring at Lukaku's profile.
"Isn't that basically a tank?"
She knew Kai was strong, but Lukaku looked like an entirely different class of physical specimen.
The director beside her laughed.
"Relax. Kai will handle him."
"But Kai's under ninety kilos," Ma Fanshu replied, still uneasy.
"How is that supposed to work?"
The director smiled.
"Football isn't decided by numbers alone. And when it comes to strength—Kai won't lose."
"Why?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
One player weighed far less.
The other was close to a hundred kilos.
On paper, the answer seemed obvious.
Lukaku even carried the nickname The Tank. How could he possibly be at a disadvantage?
The director didn't explain further. He knew Ma Fanshu was hardworking, but she still approached football like an academic—trusting data too much.
And in football, data could be deceptive.
"You'll see soon enough," he said simply, leading the group inside.
Goodison Park—the first Premier League stadium with a double-tiered stand—rose before them, capable of holding nearly seventy thousand fans.
And tonight, it was ready for a battle.
The atmosphere inside the stadium quickly reached a boiling point.
The moment they stepped through the gates, a wave of noise and heat washed over everyone. It felt as if the air itself was vibrating.
Ma Fanshu was immediately swept up in it. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes moving constantly as she took in everything around her—the stands, the banners, the sea of blue shirts.
After about ten minutes, both teams emerged from the tunnel to the Premier League anthem.
"They're coming out!" Ma Fanshu exclaimed, unable to hide her excitement. She instinctively waved and shouted,
"Go, Kai!"
Her voice disappeared instantly.
A wall of boos crashed down from every direction.
Boooooooooo——!
Everton supporters poured relentless pressure onto the Arsenal players. When Kai's face appeared on the big screen, the volume rose even higher, sharp and unforgiving.
Ma Fanshu flinched slightly.
"That's a bit much," she said, frowning.
The director remained calm.
"This is nothing. If you ever go to Dortmund or Istanbul, you'll understand what a real hostile atmosphere looks like."
Then he added casually,
"They're booing Kai because they're worried about him."
Ma Fanshu blinked.
"Really?"
Her eyes drifted back to the pitch.
Kai stood there, expression composed, almost detached from the noise. The captain's armband was wrapped firmly around his arm. From the away section, Arsenal fans were doing everything they could to drown out the boos with chants of their own.
She understood what that armband meant.
It was authority, trust, and presence.
Both teams lined up before shaking hands.
Kai and Romelu Lukaku shared a short, friendly embrace. They weren't close friends, but there was mutual respect. Once the whistle blew, that would disappear.
The players retreated to their halves.
Moments later, Kai and Everton's captain, Jagielka, completed the coin toss and exchanged a brief handshake.
Starting lineups:
Arsenal (4-2-3-1):
Goalkeeper: Navas
Defenders: Sagna, Mertesacker, Koscielny, Gibbs
Def. Midfielders: Flamini, Kai (C)
Midfielders: Di Maria, Cazorla, Sanchez
Forward: Suarez
Everton (4-2-3-1):
Goalkeeper: Howard
Defenders: Coleman, Jagielka, Distin, Baines
Def. Midfielders: Barry, McCarthy
Midfielders: Mirallas, Naismith, Pienaar
Forward: Romelu Lukaku
Kai's eyes settled on Lukaku.
He had to admit it—Lukaku looked even more powerful than he had two years earlier. Broader, heavier, more imposing. Standing still, he already felt like a problem.
Intimidating was the right word.
But Kai also knew something most people overlooked.
Lukaku didn't enjoy physical battles.
For someone built like a tank, he strangely avoided using his greatest weapon. Instead of backing into defenders, he preferred drifting wide, carrying the ball, relying on speed and technique rather than brute force.
Though that will change later in his life.
But for now, that habit had drawn criticism everywhere he went.
Chelsea had hoped he'd grown out of it. After one season, Mourinho clearly decided otherwise—no loan, no patience, just a sale.
From Kai's perspective, that trait was dangerous in a different way.
The key wasn't strength.
It was momentum.
If Lukaku was allowed to run into space, even Kai couldn't be certain of stopping him cleanly. Stick too close, and one shoulder charge could send you flying.
So the rule was simple.
Don't let him turn.
Don't let him run.
Everything else could be managed.
. . .
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