Kentaro Watanabe was completely oblivious to the frosty atmosphere as Lin Feng froze up. Instead, he got caught up in his own "deduction," waving his hands excitedly:
"Oh! Mr. Kobe! Even at our Claremont University, the legends about you are all the rage!"
His eyes lit up like a fan meeting their idol,
"I heard that back in high school, you were a court tyrant. Scoring 50 points in a single game was as easy as taking something out of your pocket! It's practically inhuman—impressive!"
As he spoke, he suddenly pulled out a tattered notebook with the crooked words "Top Secret File" printed on its cover.
With a swish, he flipped to a certain page, pushed up non-existent glasses, and wore a Conan-like expression that suggested he had all the answers:
"Based on my painstaking investigation—on a par with FBI classified files!"
His finger tapped the dense scribbles and data in the notebook,
"Your official height is 197 centimeters! (He stood on tiptoes, gesturing vigorously) Oh, seeing you in person, you must have grown taller! This sense of oppression... tsk tsk! The accuracy and depth of my intelligence network are unrivaled in Pennsylvania!"
He paid no attention to Lin Feng's increasingly darkening face and rambled on:
"But then again..."
Watanabe suddenly changed his tone, his small eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He held a pen and scanned Lin Feng up and down as if appraising an antique,
"That's strange... The intelligence also says that you 'have stunning looks, a horde of female fans, and can make the cheerleaders fall for you with a single smile'..."
His gaze finally fixed on Lin Feng's hair, which might have been a bit messy from rushing (or simply from not being fully awake), and his eyes were filled with academic puzzlement:
"But... with this head of hair that looks like it's been ravaged by a tornado, or used as a nest by a husky... um... this 'wild and unruly' hairstyle... will girls really like it?"
He tilted his head and posed a question that struck like a soul-crushing blow,
"According to my 'Big Data Model on Female College Students' Favorability'... with this look of yours, your romantic experience points are probably negative, right?"
"..."
The muscles on Lin Feng's face completely froze, as if pressed the pause button. The slight curve he had reluctantly maintained at the corner of his mouth collapsed entirely, leaving only a dead silence of awkwardness.
The air seemed to solidify into a tangible substance, weighing heavily on his 201cm tall and mighty figure.
Watanabe was completely unaware, still immersed in his own logical loop. He slapped his notebook hard, suddenly realizing something, and declared in a tone as if he'd uncovered the truth of "The Emperor's New Clothes,"
"Sō desu ne! (So that's it!) There's only one truth! Mr. Kobe! You actually... have absolutely no luck with women! Am I right?!"
"Right your head, you damn monkey!!!"
In the next second, all Watanabe saw was darkness!
A huge, hard forehead, filled with endless grief and anger, accurately hit the top of his skull like a meteor from the sky!
"Boom——!!!"
A crisp, satisfying (to Lin Feng) dull thud!
"Ow——woof!!!"
Watanabe let out a shrill scream, comparable to an Akita dog whose tail had been stepped on. He squatted down, hugging his head, eyes welling with tears. A visible, shiny bump instantly swelled on his forehead!
"Mōshiwake arimasen——!!! (I'm really very sorry!) Mr. Kobe! I was wrong! I'll never study your hairstyle or your luck with women again!"
He wailed, finally realizing he'd stepped directly on a dangerous nuclear landmine.
Lin Feng pulled his forehead back, looking at the neon curly-haired baboon (crossed out)... the researcher squatting on the ground, trembling. The anger that had been doubly struck by "Kobe" and "no luck with women" in his chest finally subsided a little.
He ground his back teeth, word by word:
"Listen carefully! My surname is Lin! My given name is Feng! I'm not that damn Kobe! If you call me wrong again..."
He grinned menacingly and cracked his knuckles,
"...next time it won't be a headbutt, but a physical face-lift for you!"
Kentaro Watanabe held the big bump on his forehead, nodded frantically with tears in his eyes:
"Y... yes! Mr. Lin! I remember! I remember!"
His inner thoughts were racing: This Mr. Lin... is ten times scarier than the rumored Black Mamba Kobe!
Hairstyle and luck with women are really absolute taboo topics!
Gotta write that as the first rule in the "North American Survival Taboos Manual"!
Lin Feng's mind kept replaying the words "50 points in a single game" in blood-red letters. His heart felt like he'd swallowed a whole lemon dipped in old godmother chili sauce—sour, spicy, and stinging, shooting straight to the top of his head!
"Damn it! This fake... scores 50 in a high school game and thinks he's on top of the world? Seems... kinda intimidating?!"
Even though reason was blaring air-raid sirens in his head—"Fake! Knockoff! Counterfeit! Don't believe it!"—another little voice, the one that loved to overreact, couldn't help but mutter:
"Shit! Putting aside the 'fake Kobe' act, those stats... he really does look like a human scoring cheat code!"
But! Who is our genius Lin? He's the chosen one with a rebirth script! His mood adjusts faster than a rocket igniting!
The next second, he dumped all that sour lemon juice and chili sauce into a black hole in his mind. His back straightened with a swish, his nostrils practically poking a hole in the ceiling:
"Hmph! Stats padded against high school weaklings—does that even qualify as 'impressive'?!"
He waved his arm broadly, his aura practically bursting through the atmosphere:
"Don't you get the difference between a 'high school bronze tier' and a 'college king's Canyon'? Can splashes from bombing a fishpond in the newbie village compare to a nuclear explosion in a pro arena?!"
Lin Feng tossed his "genius head" proudly, feeling his confidence (or rather, narcissism) glow anew—bright enough to rival a coin paying player's eyes:
"This genius! Officially certified by the NCAA Division I as a future superstar! A college-level nuke! Ever heard of dimensionality reduction strike?!"
With that thought, the earlier gloom vanished in a flash, his mood skyrocketing to the limit!
He even planted his hands on his hips and let loose a textbook three-stage villainous laugh at the air:
"Ho ho ho! Ha! Ha! ——The world of geniuses truly isn't for ordinary folks to comprehend! Tremble, fake Kobe! A high school village fishpond can't raise a true dragon; the college sea of stars—this is where this genius hunts!"
The sun dipped to one side, and time hit the gas, zooming "whoosh" to the next afternoon.
Lin Feng yanked open his door. Afternoon sunlight gilded his 201cm "human weapon" frame, his killing intent almost tangible!
"Damn thugs..."
He cracked his wrist, knuckles popping like a string of frying beans. Grinning, he bared his pearly whites—smiling like a rent collector at hell's gate:
"Bring ten, bring eight, I don't care. Grandpa's gonna sort you all out today. Every last one of you's getting pressed into the ground, sparking and scraping!"
His mind was already looping a pulp fiction script:
Scenes of those goons crying for their moms, kneeling and begging for mercy—way more thrilling than any Hollywood blockbuster!
But... the core "villain" couldn't be left out!
"Hehehe..." Lin Feng wandered, daydreaming up HD reruns of a awesome scene—
The fake Kobe, black-and-blue, kneeling before his shiny basketball shoes, sniffling and clutching his thigh:
"Brother Feng! Father Feng! Spare me! I'll never show off again! Taylor's yours! The MVP's yours! Even my life's yours!"
This fantasy was so satisfying!
Lin Feng felt every pore in his body sigh with contentment. He couldn't hold back, planting his hands on his hips and unleashing a villainous, maniacal laugh at the sky:
"Wa ha ha ha——!!!"
The laughter echoed around the street corner, startling a tree full of sparrows into flight. Even a passing dog slunk off with its tail between its legs.
(Inner voice summed up passionately: Thugs get a physical reckoning! Kobe? Deserves both body and soul flogged! Hell yeah!)
Before the laughter faded, a flurry of chaotic footsteps and a shrill voice came from behind:
"Brother Feng! Brother Feng! Wait up!"
Long Yi took the lead, running like his tail was on fire.
Lin Feng turned around slowly, a trace of lingering amusement and a hint of irritation at being interrupted still in his eyes.
"What?"
Long Yi said, "All fired up like that—looks like you're off to a fight."
"What's it to you?"
Lin Feng's brows knotted tightly,
"Go do your own thing. Stay out of this!"
"How is it not our business?!"
Long Er jumped in immediately, putting on a dramatic act, tugging at Lin Feng's sleeve with a wronged look:
"Lin Feng, you heartbreaker! Always going solo lately! You think we dragged you down and made you look handsome?We said 'share the glory, bail when in trouble'—turns out it's all plastic! So plastic!"
"Exactly!"
Long San slapped his chest, making loud thuds (nearly coughing from the force):
"A fight—this is straight out of a Passionate Youth College movie! How could we, the Long F4, miss it?! Gotta burn with youth together! Hoo——!"
(Striking an extremely clumsy Ultraman laser-shooting pose)
Even the usually silent Long Si clenched his fists, muttering in a low, muffled voice:
"…Beat… beat them up!"
Long Er seized the chance, practically hanging off Lin Feng's arm:
"Boss! Please! Tell us the location! Are we raiding the thugs' den or duel ing aliens? The brothers'll cheer you on!"
"No need!"
Lin Feng waved his hand sharply, resolute,
"I said I'd go alone, handle it by myself! Bringing you lot would be humiliating!"
"But that's not right, Brother Feng!"
Long Er panicked, fidgeting like a firecracker about to explode,
"What if those bastards round up a truckload of guys to jump you?!"
"Exactly!"
Long San turned into a parrot, nodding so fast his head blurred,
"Two fists can't fight four hundred hands! (Math genius right here)"
"Annoying! Shut up! All of you, get lost!"
Lin Feng glared, issuing an order sharply, his aura fierce.
(Impatience maxed out)
"Alright, alright!"
Long Yi suddenly stepped in, yanking Long Er and Long San back before they could blab more, and dragging the peeking Long Si along too,
"Let's go! Listen to Brother Feng!"
(His movements crisp and decisive)
He lowered his voice and dragged the three reluctant guys ten-odd meters away.
"Long Yi! You traitor?!"
Long Er was the first to snap, jumping up to confront him.
"Idiot!"
Long Yi rolled his eyes hard, looking like he was "stuck with useless teammates":
"Don't you know Lin Feng's stubborn as a mule? Once he's set on something, not even eight oxen could pull him back! If we force our way in now, we'll just piss him off. He might even take a swing at us too!"
"Ah… good point, good point!"
Long San suddenly realized, instantly switching sides.
"But…"
Long Si frowned, looking worried,
"What if they play dirty and ambush Brother Feng?"
(Conscientious take on right here)
"Smack!"
Long Yi raised his hand and flicked Long Si's the back of the head with a crisp crack:
"You blockhead!"
A crafty "evil advisor" grin curled his lips as he lowered his voice:
"Lin Feng said we can't 'follow him'…"
He drew out the words, glancing at his brothers,
"Who said we can't 'sneak' after him? Ever heard of a tactical detour? Covert support?!"
"Damn! Brilliant!"
"Long Yi's got the brains!"
Long Er and Long San's eyes lit up. They nodded frantically, utterly impressed by Long Yi's "wisdom"!