Chapter 81: Slam Dunk Master**
"Fuck! They're cheating! Cowards! I'll—" Song Mingjie's voice was muffled, half-strangled by pain and rage. The ball had hit him hard, leaving his cheek throbbing, his nose stinging like he'd been punched. His head spun, and every bone in his body ached as if he'd been hit by a truck. Wu Yifan helped him stagger to his feet, and he wobbled, grateful for his own bulk—without all that muscle and fat, he'd probably have cracked a rib.
Wu Yifan's jaw tightened, his gaze sharp as he turned on Su Kang. "Su Kang. What the hell was that? A cheap shot from behind?"
"Wu Yifan, watch your mouth," Su Kang shot back, though he flicked a warning glare at the skinny guy who'd thrown the ball. A smirk tugged at his lips. He'd wanted to win fair and square, but this… this worked too. "What are you accusing me of?"
"Cut the crap. Who passes a ball *at* someone's back like that?" A Fei snapped, his fists clenched.
The skinny guy—Sun Tianyou, Wu Yifan now remembered—shrugged, feigning innocence. "Sorry. My hands were sweaty from playing so long. Must've slipped. I'll be more careful next time." His eyes glinted with malice, though, giving him away.
"Bullshit! You did that on purpose!" Song Mingjie roared, lunging forward before Wu Yifan held him back.
The ref, a stocky middle-aged man with a no-nonsense expression, stepped between them, brandishing a yellow card at Su Kang's team. "Technical foul. Watch it." He'd seen the play—shady, but not quite enough to kick them out. He turned to Wu Yifan. "You guys good to continue?"
"I'm fine," Song Mingjie grunted, though his face was pale, and he swayed slightly. "I'll kick their asses. Just watch—ow, my nose…"
"Mingjie, your head—" A Fei started, but Song Mingjie cut him off.
"What about my head? I can still play! These brats don't stand a chance!"
Wu Yifan frowned, studying Song Mingjie. The guy was tough, but he was hurt—bad. Letting him play would only make it worse. He glanced at his wrist, where the faint outline of the smart enhancer glinted under his sleeve. *Time to step up.*
He turned to Song Mingjie and A Fei. "You two sit this out. I'll handle them alone."
The crowd erupted.
*"Alone? He's crazy!"*
*"Three on one? That's suicide!"*
*"He's just showing off. No way he wins this."*
"Wu Yifan, you can't—" Song Mingjie started, but Wu Yifan clapped him on the shoulder, his gaze steady.
"Why not? You think I'm scared of these kids? I was just messing around earlier. Haven't even used 10% of my game."
"10%?" Song Mingjie gaped.
"When have I lied to you?" Wu Yifan asked, smiling faintly.
Song Mingjie fell silent. He didn't know everything about Wu Yifan, but he knew this: the guy was full of surprises. "Running God," his unbreakable defense, his driving skills… if he said he could play basketball, maybe he *could*. "Fine. I'll cheer you on. But if you lose, I'm never letting you live it down."
A Fei nodded, though he looked skeptical. "Be careful, Brother Wu."
The ref raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting Wu Yifan's sanity, but when Su Kang's team didn't object—why would they? Three on one was a guaranteed win—he shrugged. "Fine. Let's go."
Su Kang smirked, sizing Wu Yifan up. He'd seen nothing special from him earlier. This was just a last-ditch attempt to save face. "You sure about this? Three on one's a big advantage."
"I'm sure you'll all regret it," Wu Yifan said, his voice low. "Wash up. You're about to get *destroyed*."
Su Kang and his teammates scowled, but there was a flicker of unease in their eyes.
*"Available enhancement points: 1. Activate skill amplification?"* Xue'er's voice, soft and clear, echoed in Wu Yifan's mind.
*"Yes."*
*"Skill amplification x2 activated. Duration: 1 use. 1 point consumed. Remaining points: 0."*
Wu Yifan felt nothing at first—no surge of strength, no rush of energy. But as he glanced at the basketball, something shifted. It was like meeting an old friend; suddenly, he knew exactly how it would feel in his hands, how to angle his shots, how to move to outpace his opponents. Familiarity seeped into his muscles, as if he'd played a thousand games.
"You ready?" Su Kang asked, impatience edging his tone.
Wu Yifan's posture changed. Gone was the lazy, joking guy. Now, there was a quiet intensity to him—a sharp, coiled energy that made the crowd lean in. He exuded confidence, the kind that made even skeptics wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn't bluffing.
"I was going easy on you before," he said, his voice calm, almost cold. "But you asked for this. Let me show you what a *real* player looks like. Your little tricks? They're a joke."
Su Kang's unease grew. In the span of a minute, Wu Yifan had transformed—from a casual player to someone… dangerous. He pushed the feeling aside. *He's just trying to intimidate us.*
"Su Kang! Don't let him scare you!" Tang Baoer shouted, clapping loudly. Her friends joined in, chanting: "Su Kang! Cai Qing! Sun Tianyou! Beat him! Beat him!"
Their cheers rallied the trio. Su Kang nodded at his teammates, and they took their positions, determination hardening their faces.
"Let's do this," Wu Yifan said, smirking.
The ref blew his whistle, tossing the ball high.
Su Kang leaped, his arm outstretched, confident he'd win the jump ball. But Wu Yifan soared higher—*much* higher—his hand closing around the ball before Su Kang could even reach it. He came down, dribbling hard, and sprinted toward the hoop, leaving Su Kang frozen in shock.
*How the hell did he jump that high?*
Cai Qing and Sun Tianyou moved to block him, but Wu Yifan was a blur. He weaved between them, his dribble so fast it was a blur, his movements fluid and precise—nothing like the awkward player from earlier. He reached the hoop, leaped again, and slammed the ball through the net with a deafening *whoosh*.
Slam dunk.
The crowd stared, silent for a beat, then erupted.
*"Holy shit!"*
*"That was insane!"*
*"When did he get so good?!"*
Wu Yifan landed, grinning. "Told you."
Su Kang's face flushed—with anger, with embarrassment. "Lucky shot."
But deep down, he knew it wasn't luck. Wu Yifan moved like a pro—no, better than a pro. His reflexes, his court awareness, his control… it was like watching a different person.
The game restarted. Su Kang passed to Sun Tianyou, who tried to drive past Wu Yifan—only to have the ball stolen with a quick, precise swipe. Wu Yifan sprinted back, dodged Cai Qing, and sank a three-pointer without even looking.
Swish.
*"What the fuck?!"* someone in the crowd yelled.
Tang Baoer's mouth fell open. This wasn't possible. The guy she'd mocked as a gold digger was outplaying Su Kang—*easily*.
Wu Yifan wasn't just winning. He was humiliating them. He stole passes, blocked shots, and sank baskets from impossible angles. His speed was relentless, his accuracy terrifying. Every time Su Kang's team tried to score, Wu Yifan was there—intercepting, blocking, turning their plays against them.
The score climbed: 6-15… 8-15… 15-15… 20-15.
The crowd's jeers had turned to cheers. Even people who'd never cared about basketball were on their feet, screaming Wu Yifan's name. A group of girls in crop tops and shorts waved frantically, their phones out, recording every move.
*"He's amazing!"*
*"Is he a pro?!"*
*"I need his number!"*
Song Mingjie, leaning against A Fei, laughed so hard his sides hurt. "Told you! I *told* you he was good!"
A Fei shook his head, grinning. "I stand corrected."
Su Kang, Cai Qing, and Sun Tianyou were exhausted, their shoulders slumping, their pride in tatters. They'd never been outclassed like this—especially not by one guy.
Wu Yifan dribbled past them, paused, and winked at Tang Baoer before launching a long-distance shot. It sailed through the air, arcing perfectly, and swished through the net.
30-15.
Game over.
The ref blew his whistle.
The crowd went wild, chanting Wu Yifan's name. The girls rushed forward, asking for photos, their voices high with excitement.
Wu Yifan ignored them, walking over to Su Kang, who stared at the ground, defeated.
"Next time," Wu Yifan said, "play fair. Or don't play at all."
Su Kang said nothing, just turned and walked away, his teammates trailing behind him, heads bowed.
Tang Baoer stared at Wu Yifan, a mix of shock and something else—admiration?—in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it, spinning on her heel and storming off.
Song Mingjie clapped Wu Yifan on the back, grinning like an idiot. "That. Was. Epic. Brother Wu, you've got skills I didn't even know about!"
Wu Yifan shrugged, the adrenaline fading, leaving him tired. "Just lucky, I guess."
But as he looked at his wrist, at the faint glow of the smart enhancer, he knew it wasn't luck.
Somehow, he'd pulled it off.
And for once, he didn't mind the attention. Not one bit.