Stephen Curry's gaze toward Yang Yan had shifted completely. What began as casual curiosity turned into sharp-eyed scrutiny, then frustration, and finally something bordering on fury. He had realized, too late, that Yang Yan was targeting him—relentlessly. Every time he managed to score and uplift Davidson College's morale, Yang Yan responded with a vicious counterattack. It wasn't just coincidence. It was intentional. Systematic. Like being taught a lesson—forehand and backhand.
There had been a mismatch earlier, a defensive rotation gone wrong, and Curry had ended up one-on-one against Yang Yan. It took only a blink. Yang Yan flew past him with explosive speed. No hesitation, no mercy. And worse? The shot he sank afterward was a clean three-pointer—completely unfazed by Curry's defense. His form was textbook, his release quick. It was a reminder: Yang Yan's three-point shooting was now a legitimate weapon, not a gamble.
Curry, who had always prided himself on his shooting and craftiness, found himself on the back foot. Yang Yan's drives were sharper, and his eyes never left Curry. It felt personal. Deliberate. And, for a freshman like Curry, it was a jarring welcome to the harshness of high-level basketball.
Despite Curry's relentless effort, Davidson College lost the game. Once Yang Yan displayed his threat from beyond the arc, their fate was sealed. Davidson's interior defense was weak, unable to withstand Oden's presence in the paint. Combine that with Yang Yan's deadly drives and newfound three-point prowess, and there was no stopping Ohio State.
In the second half, Yang Yan had finally showcased the signature move he had kept under wraps—the no-slowdown direction change. Curry was among the victims. He was caught off guard, stumbling as Yang Yan blurred past him and finished with ease.
By the final buzzer, Yang Yan had led Ohio State to victory. He scored 27 points—second only to Curry's 32, but more efficient, more destructive in impact. It was the highest-scoring game of his NCAA career. Curry had accounted for nearly half of Davidson's total points, but his efforts weren't enough to prevent defeat.
Yang Yan, meanwhile, had left an impression—not just on fans, but on future scouts, coaches, and rivals. He had proven that he wasn't just another player riding the bench, or an afterthought in a system built around Oden. He was a star in his own right, and from this point forward, no one would underestimate him.
Online Reactions Explode:
["Yang Yan doubled down on the win!"]
["He really doesn't crumble under pressure—this guy is built different!"]
["Did you all notice how many threes he hit today?"]
["I remember when people said he couldn't shoot. Guess they were wrong!"]
["Forget the rumors about his bad training habits—this guy's clearly been putting in work."]
["Today he slapped the haters in the face with pure skill!"]
["His development is getting scarier. He's becoming a complete player!"]
["If this continues, he might really be the first player from the Dragon Kingdom to break into the NBA."]
["March Madness will be the real test!"]
["One regular season game left… then the madness begins."]
["Streamer, don't mess this up! You better be live during the tournament!"]
["If you don't stream March Madness, you're not a man!"]
Xiao Liang, the anchor behind the stream, stared nervously at the barrage of chat messages. The growing excitement reminded him: March Madness was near. And he needed a stable stream source fast—or he'd be the one getting roasted. His palms started sweating just thinking about it. The idea of thousands of viewers waiting—only to be let down—made his stomach churn.
His own career as a content creator now hinged on Yang Yan's performance. And Yang had become the beating heart of his streams.
Post-Game, On the Court:
Players from both teams lined up to shake hands. Coach Bob from Davidson approached Coach Gallagher of Ohio State.
"You've found yourself a hell of a player," Bob admitted, gesturing at Yang Yan.
Gallagher chuckled. "Stephen's no slouch either. He's amazing—but still young. Needs polishing."
Bob nodded, casting a glance at Curry. "But you've got two monsters. I didn't expect you to save your trump card for March Madness."
Gallagher smiled awkwardly. Yang Yan's performance today was bound to spark speculation—people would assume he had been kept hidden as a secret weapon. Truth was, Yang Yan hadn't been part of any grand plan. He had simply forced his way into the spotlight.
Gallagher looked at Yang Yan, now mobbed by teammates. A small smile crossed the coach's face—but it was tinged with resignation. Others might think he had a master strategy. In reality, Gallagher had little control over this rising storm of talent.
Bob noticed the expression but said nothing. After all, every genius has their quirks. He quietly filed Yang Yan's name in his mind. Davidson needed reinforcements. If Yang Yan ever transferred…
Your poison, my antidote. What Gallagher didn't cherish, others might.
Curry Approaches Yang Yan:
After handshakes, Curry finally walked up to him.
"Yang Yan, right?" He pointed at the name on the jersey, eyes unreadable.
Yang Yan grinned. "That's right. I assume you'll remember it now?"
The system had instructed Yang to become Curry's nightmare. Judging by the storm in Curry's eyes, mission accomplished.
"Hmph. We may have lost this time, but we'll beat you next year!" Curry's baby face hardened with resolve.
Yang raised an eyebrow. "Next year? I don't think our coach will schedule you again. Might not get that rematch."
Curry's expression froze, as if Yang had dumped a bucket of ice water on his head.
"No! We'll meet again. I swear it."
Curry muttered, voice cracking. Yang's reminder had struck a chord. Davidson and Ohio State weren't in the same division, and today's matchup had been an anomaly—arranged because Coach Bob requested it multiple times.
Whether Gallagher would agree again next year? That was uncertain. If he didn't… Curry would have no shot at revenge.
Unless...
"I need to make it to March Madness," Curry thought. "That's the only way I'll get another chance."
That night, as the lights dimmed and the arena cleared, Curry sat silently in the locker room, clutching a towel, his mind racing. Yang Yan had awoken something in him—a fire, a hunger.
And Yang? He had no idea that this brief encounter had just planted the seed of a future legend's rise.