Ming You, having confirmed that all the details of the plan were thought through, headed back to his team. Meanwhile, Taek Jung approached the referee, observing all formalities. He began discussing the terms and rules, simultaneously setting up the game brackets exactly as Ming You had explained to him. Every word was measured, every action precise.
Both acted in sync, like parts of a single mechanism. While Ming You ensured the team's support, Taek Jung created the necessary conditions for the plan's execution.
"Alright guys, time to brief your newcomer groups and get ready to start playing. Don't forget to pretend to be supportive," Ming You said to the main members of his team.
The team nodded and dispersed to their groups, explaining the upcoming game bracket to the newcomers. The experienced players quickly grasped the tactics, emphasizing the opponents' weak points. The newcomers listened attentively, trying not to miss a single detail—for many, this was their first chance to prove themselves.
Once the captains and newcomers had moved to their respective sides of the basketball hoops, the referee began the announcement:
"The match between Lu Shen's team and Haru Lin's team begins! Bets are closed! Jump ball!"
Sung Wo tossed the worn streetball high into the air. The tall center from Haru Lin's team, who had messy dark hair and equally dark eyes, leaped up, snatching the ball with his fingertips and slapping it towards his point guard—an agile guy in a stretched-out jersey with a faded number "19".
"Mei Yu, run circles around them!" one of his teammates barked.
Mei Yu caught the ball deftly, his sneakers squeaking on the cracked asphalt. He immediately surged forward, the ball seemingly glued to his palm, bouncing crisply and low. A tall player from the other team, with fingers taped in black and a cold gaze, moved to meet him.
"Come on then, show me what you've got, little mouse," he muttered, sinking into a defensive stance, his shadow falling over Mei.
"Little mouse? Heh, Xiao Li, you're losing your touch!"
He made a sharp dribble to the left—the ball hit the asphalt, bounced at an odd angle, and Xiao Li jerked after it. But it was a feint. Mei Yu immediately transferred the ball behind his back, his torso swayed to the right, his sneakers screeched piercingly on the asphalt. Xiao Li tried to react, but his feet got momentarily tangled—Mei was already past him, leaving him half a step behind.
"Dammit!" Xiao Li spat into the air, turning around.
But Mei Yu didn't drive to the basket—Lu Shen's second defender, a stocky guy with short, light hair, was already cutting off the lane. Instead, Mei stopped abruptly, the asphalt screeching under his soles. His gaze darted to the side—a teammate was open on the wing.
"Score!" Mei gritted his teeth and fired the ball with a sharp bounce pass.
The ball smacked against the asphalt, flew straight into the player's hands, and he, without aiming, launched it towards the hoop in one motion.
The ball swished cleanly through the net, not even touching the rim.
As the ball slapped onto the asphalt, it was swiftly scooped up by Xiao Li with his calloused palm. He was already charging forward, his sneakers with the foam sole peeling away digging into the court surface, leaving faint marks on the sun-scorched asphalt.
"I suggest you get out of the way!" Xiao Li grinned, dribbling the ball low, almost scraping it along the ground. Mei Yu crouched in his stance, sweat droplets streaming down his temples.
"You haven't even seen where I can go yet."
Mei Yu lunged left, but it was a fake. At the last moment, Xiao Li brought the ball behind his back, his body shifting right.
The moment he crossed the three-point line, two of Haru Lin's defenders converged on him like scissors—one from the left, a long-haired guy with a bandaged arm, the other from the right, tall and lanky. Xiao Li didn't even break stride. At the last second, he sharply pulled the ball behind his back, making the left defender jerk uselessly, then instantly changed pace—a hard stop, his sneakers squealed on the asphalt, and he burst to the right, leaving the lanky guy with his arms spread and an empty stare.
Mei Yu rushed to intercept, his eyes narrowed to slits, sweat flying from his damp temples. Xiao Li felt his breath on his back. Instead of accelerating, he suddenly took a step back, pulling the ball tight to his torso—Mei rushed past him, losing his balance.
"Look at you go, heh," he smirked, watching as Xiao Li took another step back beyond the three-point line.
Xiao Li didn't even jump. He simply straightened up, the ball resting on the fingertips of his right hand, his left hand guiding it slightly. The defender was already flying at him, a hand reaching for the ball. Xiao Li released the ball at the very last moment, just as the bandaged palm was blocking the sun.
The ball soared up in a high arc, spinning so slowly you could see every seam. It reached its peak, seemed to hang in the air for an instant, then began its descent. The net didn't even rustle—just a soft swish.
"Yes!" Lu Shen jumped up from the bench, waving a towel with exaggerated theatrics. His voice sounded fake, as if he'd rehearsed the line in front of a mirror. "We're in the lead!"
The pace of the game intensified with each minute. Both teams moved swiftly, exchanging accurate shots, and the score gradually increased. However, the initiative gradually shifted to Lu Shen's team—their play became more coordinated and aggressive.
Xiao Li stood out particularly brightly. After cleverly faking out Mei Yu with a sharp move, he broke into open space and made a precise pass to a teammate. Without wasting a second, the teammate immediately sent the ball through the hoop, extending their team's lead.
The opponents tried to adjust their defense, but Lu Shen's team's attacks grew increasingly dangerous. They seemed to understand each other without words, and their combinations paid off again and again.
"Ha-ha! Suck on that, Haru!" Lu Shen shouted joyfully from the bench, but with a twitchy grin, cheering on his players. "Let's keep up the pace!"
"It's not time to celebrate yet!" Haru Lin yelled, sitting a short distance away, gathering his team. "We can turn this around!"
Their acting was top-notch, but the smiles were too forced.
Despite Haru Lin's "efforts" and his team's genuine hard work, they couldn't turn the tide of the match. Lu Shen's team played cohesively, each player fulfilling their role clearly, and in the end, victory was theirs—the scoreboard near the referee showed 12:9.
When the final whistle sounded, the players from both teams, unaware of the hidden intrigues and tension between the captains, sincerely hugged, exchanging congratulations.
"Great game!" Lu Shen said, rubbing his hands together. "Now we have the next match ahead of us."
After a short break, only four participants remained on the court. Besides Ming You's team and Lu Shen's team, who had already finished their match and were watching from the sidelines, it was now the turn of the remaining duos—Jung Ho and Hong Ren.
"Get ready, Jung!" Hong Ren shouted, winking. "I'm going to show you who the real master is here!"
"Don't underestimate me," Jung Ho replied, stretching his lips into a smile. "I'm not going down without a fight."
His expression seemed overly forced, and his gaze momentarily drifted aside, as if he was distracted by something important. But none of those present paid it any mind—everyone was focused on the upcoming game.
Referee Sung Wo tossed the ball up, and the match began with a powerful start. The players immediately engaged in a fierce struggle for control of the ball, elbows flying, legs tense. Hong Ren's team showed instant aggression—their point guard, deftly evading coverage, made a sharp dash towards the center of the court.