After Yang Yan finished his thunderous dunk, he remained still for a moment, letting the adrenaline settle. He wasn't just catching his breath; he was processing something deeper. There was a thoughtful glint in his eyes, like a puzzle piece falling into place.
—So this is what it feels like… changing direction without slowing down —he thought silently.
He hadn't fully understood the technique before, but now, instinct had led him to use it perfectly in a real-game scenario. Mid-sprint, with maximum momentum, he had shifted directions like a gust of wind, effortlessly evading Durant. It hadn't been planned—it was pure instinct, triggered at the most critical moment.
—If you're accelerating at full speed, how can any defender match your lateral movement? —he mused, a confident smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.—Now this… this is going to be fun.
Tweet! The referee's whistle broke the momentary silence, followed by a clear hand gesture: the basket counted. Durant, who had been staring at the official, let out a deep sigh. He'd been hoping—praying even—that the play would be called off for a travel or a violation. But the ref crushed that final hope.
Now, for the first time, Durant really looked at Yang Yan—not as a benchwarmer, not as an unknown face, but as a true threat.
The game resumed, but something had shifted on the court. The air was different.
Yang Yan's incredible change of direction had done more than score points—it had shaken the trust dynamics within his own team. Suddenly, point guard Mike Conley was watching Yang Yan's positioning more closely. Even Greg Oden, the big man under the basket, kept glancing toward him with increasing frequency.
On the sideline, head coach Gallagher was no longer smirking. He sat up, narrowed his eyes, and watched Yang Yan with professional intensity. Everyone wanted to know: was that play just a fluke—or a glimpse of something far greater?
The answer came quickly.
Durant, eager to respond, attempted a mid-range shot, but missed. Oden snatched the rebound with ease. Without hesitation, he looked up—straight at Yang Yan. Then, in a deliberate and surprising move, he passed him the ball.
For the first time in the entire game, Yang Yan received a pass from a teammate.
The crowd held its breath. Durant immediately switched into defensive mode, planting himself in front of Yang Yan. He wasn't going to be humiliated twice.
But Yang Yan had already made up his mind.
With a sharp burst of speed, he exploded forward again. And just like before, he executed a near-impossible change of direction—swift, fluid, untouchable. He bypassed Durant as if the star defender had never been there.
Boom! Another one-handed dunk.
The arena went wild. Across the ocean, the live broadcast chat from the Dragon Kingdom erupted:
[Holy crap! Who said Yang Yan couldn't play?! That was insane!][That move was so clean, man!][I swear I've never seen someone break through like that—not even in the NBA!][Our Dragon Kingdom genius is here, baby!][I take it back. I doubted him before. I'm a fan now—loyal for life!][Yang Yan, I apologize. I judged too soon. You're amazing.]
The fans who had mocked him earlier were now his biggest supporters. Meanwhile, back in the livestream studio, the popular blogger Xiao Liang was breaking into a cold sweat.
He was in trouble.
Earlier in the stream, in a desperate bid to boost viewer engagement, he had promised: "If Yang Yan scores even one point, I'll give out a 1,000-yuan red packet to random viewers."
Now, Yang Yan had already scored four.
[Hey blogger, remember that promise? That's 4,000 yuan already!][Haha, getting rich thanks to Yang Yan!][Waiting for those lucky red packets!][Yang Yan: Everyone's financial savior today.]
Xiao Liang slumped back in his chair in despair. This was a complete live-streaming disaster. If he didn't follow through, he'd lose all his credibility and his audience—everything he had built over the past year.
But the chat had already moved on. They had forgotten about the drama and were now fully focused on the spectacle unfolding on the court.
Back in the game, Yang Yan was no longer an outsider. He had fully integrated into the team. Conley passed to him like clockwork. Oden set strong screens and trusted him to finish plays. His teammates had gone from ignoring him to relying on him.
And Yang Yan did not let them down.
Each drive was faster, more precise. That directional change—once considered impossible—tore through Texas's defense like paper. Durant was stunned. The coaching staff had no choice but to switch to a zone defense, trying to close down the lanes Yang Yan was exploiting so easily.
But Yang Yan adapted again.
This time, he didn't charge forward recklessly. Instead, he slowed down just enough to execute two beautiful pull-up jumpers. The swish of the net echoed in the arena.
He wasn't just fast. He was smart. He knew when to sprint and when to stop. When to explode, and when to float.
By the end of the game, Yang Yan had scored 12 points. That may not sound earth-shattering at first glance—until you remember he only played the second half.
Even more impressive than the raw numbers was how he scored them: slicing through the defense, outplaying Durant—Durant, the projected number-one draft pick—and doing it all with poise and flair.
What had started as a showdown between Greg Oden and Kevin Durant—the two presumed stars of the NCAA—had taken a dramatic turn. The narrative changed completely.
Now, everyone was talking about Yang Yan.
The X-Factor that no one saw coming. The surprise ace who had single-handedly turned the game around.
With Yang Yan's breakout performance, Ohio State claimed a crucial win on their home court. They hadn't just beaten Texas—they had made a statement.
And as the final buzzer echoed through the arena, one thing became crystal clear:
Yang Yan was no longer a background player.He was the storm they didn't see coming.