The opponent's defenders closed in around him, but he didn't panic. A fake to the left, then a sharp crossover to the right—and the defender was left helpless, slipping on the asphalt. The player with glasses, receiving the pass at the three-point arc, didn't even look at the hoop—his hands had already memorized the motion. A quick jump, his wrist softly releasing the ball—the clean swish of the net!
"Two-zero!" he shouted, raising his fists in triumph, and his team immediately surrounded him, pushing his shoulders and laughing.
Jung Ho's team, which had been trailing at the start of the game, managed to seize the initiative thanks to tough defense and fast counterattacks. One of the tall players, deftly using his long arms, intercepted a pass intended for the sharp-shooting player with glasses.
A quick dash, two powerful dribbles, and he was under the basket. A defender tried to get in his way, but a shoulder fake—and a close-range shot. The ball softly kissed the backboard and dropped through the net.
The opponents hadn't even recovered when Jung Ho's team stormed into their half again. This time the defense reacted faster, but the tall player, using his body, shielded his opponent, received the pass, and without aiming, lofted the ball upwards. A perfect arc—swish! Another point.
"Tied score!" he said with a smile, winking at his opponent.
"Don't celebrate too early!" shouted a sturdy guy with short chestnut hair, adjusting his red cap. The reply wasn't long in coming:
"Hey, Jen Ryu, going all out as usual, huh?"
"You bet!" he retorted defiantly.
One of the forwards, picking up the ball, charged sharply towards the hoop, trying to break through the defense, but he was intercepted, sending the ball back to the center of the court. Jen Ryu caught it there.
He didn't hesitate. Quickly assessing the situation, he executed a sharp crossover, confusing his opponent, and burst towards the three-point line. The defender tried to close him down, but it was too late—the ball left Jen Ryu's fingertips in a perfect arc.
The opponents didn't give up. They inbounded the ball, and their point guard tried to organize an attack, but Jung Ho's team's defense worked like clockwork. A steal, a quick pass, and the ball was back in Jen Ryu's hands.
He didn't take risks. Two powerful bounces of the ball on the asphalt, a hard stop—and a sudden jump shot. The defender threw his hands up, but didn't even manage to touch the ball. The ball flew through the net and Sung Wo blew the final whistle.
"I knew I could do it!" Jung Ho shouted, hugging Hong Ren and relaying information, "We'll be squeezing money out of these newcomers soon, hehe. Say 'good game'."
"Good game," Hong Ren replied, smiling hypocritically. "But next time I'll definitely beat you!"
Now the moment had arrived for the penultimate game: Jung Ho's team versus Lu Shen's team. Both captains understood they were facing a fairly predictable battle.
"This will be the deciding game," Xiao Li said, looking at Jen Ryu.
"Good luck, man."
"You too," he replied, gripping the ball. "But I'm set on winning."
Immediately after the jump ball, the game ignited with incredible energy. The ball passed from one player to another in a rapid exchange of attacks, like a spark igniting the flame of rivalry. Xiao Li instantly capitalized on the slightest defensive lapse. Deftly catching a pass, he executed a lightning-fast shot, and the ball, tracing a perfect arc, cleanly swished through the net.
Jen Ryu felt a drop of sweat run down his back, but the excitement in his eyes only burned brighter. He had no intention of letting the opponent dictate the pace. Stealing the ball after a quick inbound, Jen charged forward, fooling the defender with a sharp fake. His powerful drive to the hoop ended with a spectacular dunk—he slammed the ball into the basket with such force the rim shuddered from the impact.
"Tied score!" he yelled, jumping down from the rim.
The game was neck and neck, the score constantly changing, neither team willing to yield. Xiao Li and his teammates operated precisely, like a well-oiled machine, their passes sharp and accurate, while Jen Ryu and his team responded with daring drives and unexpected shots.
The ball flew from hand to hand, bounced off the backboard, was back in play. The players' feet slid across the worn asphalt, leaving traces of their rapid bursts. The spectators gathered around stood frozen, watching every move.
The final seconds. The score was tied.
Jen Ryu caught the ball at the three-point arc, his gaze darting towards the hoop. Xiao Li rushed forward, trying to block his view, but it was too late. A light jump, the wrist straightened, fingers released the ball in a perfect arc.
Silence.
The rim shook, the net swished upwards—swish!
"We won!" he shouted, hugging his teammates.
On the other side of the court, Lu Shen's team froze for a moment, but then smiles touched their faces. They approached their opponents, extended their hands—firm handshakes, pats on the back.
"Great game, you really showed your skills," Jen Ryu said, looking at Xiao Li. "See you next time!"
"You're quite the bruiser, Ryu," Xiao Li replied, shaking his opponent's hand.
Meanwhile, Ming You stood up from the back bench. He ran a hand through his hair before stepping forward. From the other side of the court, Jung Ho moved towards him, his steps confident, his gaze calm, but with a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips.
They met in the center, and Ming You put on a theatrically sly grin. His voice was slightly louder than usual to cut through the general noise:
"Well, guys, well played." He nodded towards the newcomer teams, then turned to Jung Ho. "We'll meet as teams after the break, Jung."
"Can't wait for our game."
As soon as the two teams gathered on the court, something unexpected happened in Ming You's team.
Ming You carefully looked over the players, his gaze stopping on one of them. He casually stepped closer and tilted his head slightly, studying the guy's face.
"Hey, you with the watch, what's your name?"
"I'm So Ho. Any instructions on how we can win?" he asked, trying to sound confident, though a note of tension slipped into his voice. Ming You smirked with the corner of his mouth, but there wasn't a trace of amusement in his eyes.
"Yeah, there is. I'm taking the court. To be precise, I'm substituting for you."
"Substituting? What do you mean? We're playing the selection matches among ourselves, the newcomers. Why do you need to play?" So Ho's voice trembled, mixing confusion with a hint of hurt. Ming You sighed, as if tired of explaining the obvious. He slowly raised his hand, pointing towards the bench.
"If I said substitution, that means substitution. Now go rest, I'll handle this."
So Ho clenched his teeth and headed towards the bench. Ming You then began giving instructions to his team of newcomers.
"So the plan is this: you get the ball to me, I'll get past everyone and score, and you hold the defense and set screens. Is that clear?"
One of the players, a guy with tousled hair and burning eyes, couldn't hold back:
"But how does that help with the selections? We need to test our own skills, not just win..."
Ming You didn't even let him finish. His gaze grew even colder, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Do as you're told if you want to remain in this basketball club."
The players exchanged glances but didn't argue. Their shoulders slumped slightly, but they silently took their positions.