All in one, at 1.69 metre, N’Golo Kante is a number six, a number eight and a number ten. That exaggeration, or even puffery, reveals a deeper truth: The long-busting, freakishly energetic Frenchman, a champion of England after all, has become even better at Chelsea.

In Kante, master tactician Antonio Conte spies the cog of his team, and in response, Chelsea’s number seven has adapted and excelled to marshal his club’s midfield, arguably in a secure environment of ball-possession. Even so, Kante has retained his destructive traits and steel, and all the feverishness that so galvanised Leicester City last season.

1. N’Golo Kante shines yet again.

That Kante has improved is an understatement. Yet again the limelight during Monday’s FA Cup clash between Chelsea and Manchester United was on Eden Hazard, that wicked Belgian, who with his dainty little footsteps resembles a perky mademoiselle strolling down Kensington Gardens. On 15 minutes, in a near-repetition of his brilliant solo goal against Arsenal, Hazard spun away from Chris Smalling on the halfway line, ran, skipped past his opponents, but failed to produce an accurate enough finish.

Hazard had been targeted by an army of hatchet man, who were taking it in turn to thwart him, and therefore his gallop was a glistening one, both stunning and sensational, adjectives that are not often linked to Kante – but that doesn’t make the Frenchman less brilliant. Again, he delivered his energetic, pin-point tackles and, again, his positioning allowed him to pinch the ball at the right moments.

In the 50th minute, he capped his Most Valuable Player performance with the match-winning goal. Paul Pogba dallied on the ball, Kante pinched it and with a shot that surprised David De Gea he scored his second goal for Chelsea and ensured the Londoner’s progress to the semi-finals of the FA Cup, where they will face local rivals Tottenham Hotspur.

2. Mind the gap

If Kante and Hazard shone for Chelsea, they also accentuated the weaknesses of a debilitated Manchester United. Kante dominated the midfield, Hazard spun circles around the United players.

Phil Jones has been assigned to mark Hazard but the Manchester United defenders scuttled when he set off on his driving runs. The Belgian got away with his little turns, a trademark of midfield magicians. He offered a box full of tricks.

When United didn’t scuttle, they heckled Hazard, which forced referee Oliver to send off Ander Herrera in the 35th minute for a second bookable offense. Oliver could scarcely allow a mob of rodmen to roam free around in the London night. Mourinho’s “kill-Eden-kill-the-game-strategy” didn’t work.

Early on, Mourinho’s team had pressed very high, trying to force quick turn-overs, an approach he had also adhered to at Anfield Road. But soon United’s challenge faded, overly conservative, all set-up to stop Hazard. At times, it was a back three, at times, four centre-halves were to halt Hazard. At times, it was a six-men block. Little did it help.

For his part, Kante easily contained Pogba, who offered little value for money again. Perhaps, contain is not the right word – Kante completely nullified his lanky compatriot. In an earlier day and age, an audacious Mourinho would have perhaps subbed Pogba, but as it was, the Portuguese didn’t. He brought on Marouane Fellaini to shore up the midfield and trundled further down the path of the raucous physicality that dominated the opening stages. Apart from Marcus Rashford’s second half opportunity, Manchester offered precious little. They were simply inferior to the champions elect.

3. Conte, the king at the Bridge

Whom shall thy anoint king? Chelsea’s faithful replied with a cheeky song that rolled down from the stands at Stamford Bridge – “You are no longer special”. A little dig at Jose Mourinho? It was a shred pedantic, brattish from a legion of fans that once, almost crushed the Portuguese with their boundless love. This time the love was unrequited. The dominion of Mourinho at the Bridge is over for good. Arise Conte, the great Italian chess master, whose three-men rearguard has proven an apt winning formula in England.

And so, it was against Manchester United, but not without a touch of melodrama, a mini-theatre played out on the touchline by ever-willing antagonists. This was not the Champions League final, but Conte believed it to be so – he celebrated Herrera’s sending-off in apocalyptic fashion. Mourinho complained, as Marcos Alonso and Antonio Valencia clashed, to the fourth official’s chagrin. His Italian counterpart came over and confronted Mourinho, screaming with the maniacal compulsion of 1960’s headmaster.

There was spark. There were handbags. But, perhaps for the first time at Stamford Bridge, with Mourinho present, this was not about the Portuguese. Here stood Conte, an accomplished coach with his own vision and perfectly drilled XI, at the ready to deliver the domestic double.