Chapter 86: The Bell Tolls for the Battle of Life and Death
Lin Feng stood rooted to the spot, holding his phone, Kobe's final words echoing in his ears.
The only thing that can save you is basketball.
He glanced at Yinna, who was sleeping on the bed, her brows tightly furrowed, filled with unease even in her dreams.
Lin Feng walked over and tucked the corner of the blanket around her.
Then, he turned around and walked out of the presidential suite without the slightest hesitation.
In the dead of night in Los Angeles, vehicles still moved along the streets.
Lin Feng drove the black escalade, his mind a blank slate.
He didn't think about TMZ, Taylor, or Scarlett.
In his world, only Kobe's words and the address at the navigation destination remained.
Staples Center.
When he used his staff card to swipe open the arena door, he was greeted by profound darkness and silence.
There were no reporters, no fans, and no noise here.
Only the basketball hoop stood in the center of the court, like a silent behemoth.
"Thump."
"Thump."
"Thump."
The sound of a basketball hitting the floor came from deep within the court, echoing throughout the empty arena.
Lin Feng followed the sound.
In the center of the court, only one overhead light was on.
Under the dim, yellow halo of light, a figure was dribbling alone.
Kobe Bryant.
He was wearing simple training gear, and sweat was already beading on his forehead.
Seeing Lin Feng approach, he stopped his movements, the basketball casually tucked under his arm.
He didn't ask anything about the scandal; he didn't mention a single word.
It was as if the storm raging outside, which had swept across the entire North American media landscape, simply didn't exist.
He merely pointed his chin toward a piece of paper on the coaches' bench nearby.
"Look at this."
Lin Feng walked over and picked up the paper.
It was a printed Western Conference standings table and the schedule for the final game.
Next to the Lakers' name, the record was 44 wins and 37 losses.
On the line below them, the Utah Jazz Team also had a record of 44 wins and 37 losses.
At the bottom of the schedule, the opponent for the final regular season game was heavily circled with a glaring red marker.
An away challenge against the Utah Jazz Team.
Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat.
"We have the same record as the Jazz Team right now."
Kobe's voice was like the clash of cold metal.
"The last game is in Salt Lake City."
He walked up to Lin Feng, extended a finger, and sharply poked the standings table.
"Winner goes to the playoffs."
"Loser goes home fishing."
The room was terrifyingly quiet.
Kobe turned around, his eyes like an eagle's in the night, sharp as knives, piercing directly into Lin Feng's heart.
"The whole world wants to laugh at you."
His voice was not loud, but every word was heartbreaking.
"TMZ reporters are drowning in bonuses this month thanks to your news."
"ESPN commentators have launched three special programs discussing how you, the 'Locker Room Bomb,' are going to destroy the Los Angeles Lakers."
"Players on other teams in the league are currently using your situation as the biggest joke in their group chats."
"They are all waiting for you to be crushed by this storm. The media, the opponents, even some of our own fans."
Kobe took a step forward, closing in on Lin Feng.
"They think you're finished."
"They think you're just a lucky kid relying on good looks and talent, and that you'll collapse like a clown the moment you face real pressure."
"They have already written the script for you. That you'll lose your mental balance due to a scandal, suffer a performance collapse, mess everything up in the most critical game, and become Los Angeles's biggest culprit."
Kobe's words landed like heavy punches, slamming hard into Lin Feng's chest.
All his annoyance, guilt, and unease were replaced at this moment by a more primal and powerful emotion.
That was anger.
The towering rage of being looked down upon and treated as a joke.
"Now, tell me."
Kobe's voice suddenly rose, like a war drum beating on the battlefield.
"What are you going to do?"
"Are you going to hide in the hotel like a coward and drown in their spit?"
"Or are you going to walk into that arena like a warrior and, under the gaze of everyone, smash their mouths shut?!"
Boom!
That last sentence exploded in Lin Feng's mind.
He clenched the paper tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the force.
He raised his head, meeting Kobe's gaze.
Those eyes, which had been somewhat lost and confused, became incredibly clear and utterly manic at this moment.
All the negative emotions were purified and forged in this instant, finally transforming into an extreme hunger for victory.
He tossed the paper aside, bent down, and picked up the basketball from the floor.
The familiar feel of leather came from his palm, like an electric current instantly shooting through his body.
This was his world.
This was his weapon.
"Boss."
Lin Feng spoke, his voice hoarse but conveying an unprecedented firmness.
"I know what I need to do."
Kobe watched the flame in his eyes—that familiar, maniacally obsessive flame for victory—and finally, a cold, hard curve appeared on his face.
He said nothing, merely tossing the ball he was holding to Lin Feng.
"Then practice."
For the next few days, Lin Feng completely cut himself off from the outside world.
He turned off his phone and refused contact with all management and public relations teams.
He rejected all interview requests from the media.
He didn't even return to the hotel.
He slept in the arena's lounge.
When he woke up, it was time to train.
When he was exhausted, he collapsed and slept.
The whole world seemed to consist only of basketball, sweat, and Kobe's devilish demands.
The rest of the Los Angeles Lakers also felt this suffocating atmosphere.
No one mentioned the scandal that had rocked the entire US, and no one dared to discuss anything unrelated to basketball in front of Lin Feng and Kobe.
Nick Young simply and silently handed Lin Feng a bottle of water during a training break.
"Those bastards in Salt Lake City aren't easy to deal with."
Lin Feng took the water without looking at him.
"I know."
"They'll use every trick they can to provoke you."
"Mm."
Nick Young looked at his expressionless profile and remained silent for a few seconds.
"Go kill them."
Lin Feng paused his motion of drinking water.
He turned his head and saw the seriousness in Nick Young's eyes.
"Okay."
The day of the final regular season game arrived.
The entire Lakers team took a charter flight and arrived in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Because of the Jazz Team, this city was known throughout the league as the most terrifying "Devil's Home Court."
As the Lakers' bus slowly drove toward the Energy Solutions Arena, thousands of Jazz Team fans had already gathered on both sides of the road.
They wore the home team's jerseys, holding up various provocative and insulting signs.
"Welcome to hell, playboy!"
"Taylor's troublemaker, today is your doomsday!"
"Go back to your K-Pop world!"
All kinds of foul language, accompanied by tremendous jeering, slammed against the bus windows like a tsunami.
Inside the bus, there was dead silence.
All the Lakers players had incredibly serious expressions.
Only Lin Feng leaned by the window, calmly looking at the frantic and distorted faces outside.
There was no emotional fluctuation on his face.
The bus stopped, and the players got off in sequence, walking into the players' tunnel.
When Lin Feng's figure appeared at the tunnel entrance, the noise in the arena instantly reached its peak.
Boos, curses, and screams mixed together, nearly blowing the roof off the arena.
Lin Feng stepped onto the court.
He stopped and stood in the center of the court.
He was greeted by overwhelming boos and countless signs covered in insulting language.
The entire world was against him.
He slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the hostile eyes in the stands.
Eye of the Heavenly Emperor!
In an instant, the entire noisy world became incredibly clear in his eyes.
Those angry faces, those waving signs, those grating noises... everything transformed into cold data streams, flashing through his mind.
He saw their anger, but also the fear beneath that anger.
They were afraid.
Afraid that this young man from the East would once again use an incredible performance to crush their playoff dreams.
The corner of Lin Feng's mouth slowly curled into a cold smile.
There was no warmth in that smile, only the chilling intensity of a hunter locking onto prey.
This battle for redemption had begun!
Chapter 87: Salt Lake City Hell! The Devil's Home Court!
There was no warmth in that smile, only the chilling intensity of a hunter locking onto its prey.
This battle of redemption has begun!
The Energy Solutions Arena had completely transformed into an erupting volcano.
When the arena DJ read out the names of the Lakers' starting players at maximum volume, they were met with a torrent of boos, like a landslide or tsunami.
"Kobe—Bryant!"
"Boo—!"
"Pau—Gasol!"
"Boo—!"
When it came to the last name, the noise in the arena climbed to an ear-splitting peak.
"Lin Feng—!"
"Get out!!"
"Scumbag! Go back to Asia!"
"Your troublemaker is finished today!"
The deafening sound waves nearly tore the roof off the entire arena.
This decibel level set the highest record for all NBA arenas this season.
The stands were covered with all sorts of banners specifically "customized" for him.
"Time Management Master, looks like you don't have time to win today, huh?"
"Who's your next celebrity target? The ones in Salt Lake City aren't cheap!"
"Hey, Lin! Taylor is calling you home to write songs!"
Lin Feng stood in the center of the court, allowing the malicious sound waves to wash over him.
He ignored it all.
He simply and calmly raised his head.
[Eye of the Heavenly Emperor]!
In an instant, the entire noisy world was completely disassembled in his vision.
The harsh boos turned into strings of pulsing red data representing decibel values.
The malicious banners became lines of meaningless text that could be deleted at will.
The twisted and angry faces in the stands turned into static images composed of pixels.
Everything lost its emotion.
Only cold data and logic remained.
His heart was empty, yet perfectly clear.
Tip-off.
Gasol won the first possession for the Lakers.
Nash slowly dribbled the ball up to the frontcourt. He glanced at Lin Feng, his eyes questioning.
Lin Feng didn't call for the ball; he just made a tactical gesture.
He wanted to see first what kind of "welcome ceremony" this hell had prepared for him.
Following the standard play, the ball was passed to Gasolin the paint.
At this moment, the Jazz Team's defensive strategy was fully revealed.
Their power forward, Paul Millsap, known for his toughness, abandoned his matchup the moment Gasolreceived the ball and charged fiercely toward the off-ball Lin Feng!
That was not a normal help-side rotation.
His body posture, the height of his elbow, and his target—there was only one!
He intended to use a vicious screen right under the referee's nose to deliver a hard shot to Lin Feng's ribs!
The Salt Lake City fans let out excited howls!
This is exactly what they wanted to see!
However, just tenths of a second before Millsap was about to collide with him.
Lin Feng, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, deftly sidestepped.
A perfect dodge.
Millsap's powerful elbow strike, whistling through the air, scraped Lin Feng's jersey and slammed violently into empty space.
Because he exerted too much force, his body stumbled, and he nearly fell.
"What?"
Millsap steadied himself and looked back at Lin Feng in disbelief.
How did he dodge that?
The referee's whistle did not blow.
For this level of physical confrontation, the referee's standards at this Devil's Home Court in Salt Lake Citywere clearly terrifyingly lenient.
The Jazz Team was clearly intending to use this kind of rough, borderline-foul physical confrontation to provoke and destroy him.
The Lakers' first possession ended with Gasol's shot missing under tight defense.
The Jazz Team grabbed the rebound and immediately launched a counterattack.
The ball quickly went to their core player, Gordon Hayward.
Hayward executed several crossover steps against Lin Feng's defense.
He was handsome, a famous white heartthrob in the league.
But at this moment, the expression on his face was full of provocation.
Using a teammate's screen, Hayward found a sliver of space to shoot, and he immediately pulled up and fired.
Three-pointer, good.
"Swish!"
After the shot went in, the sound waves in the Energy Solutions Arena were ignited once again!
Hayward did not immediately retreat on defense.
He faced Lin Feng, extended his right hand, and made a telephone gesture.
That gesture, combined with the contemptuous smile on his face, was deeply insulting.
The whole world knew what that gesture implied.
The Jazz Team fans in the stands burst into laughter.
Lin Feng offered no response.
He didn't even spare Hayward a second glance.
His gaze, like a high-speed camera, recorded every player's movement, every screening angle, and every passing route during the Jazz Team's previous possession.
This information constructed a complete dynamic tactical map within his [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor].
Once wasn't enough.
Then do it again.
He intended to engrave all of this team's habits into his mind.
The Lakers inbounded the ball.
Kobe ran over and brushed past Lin Feng.
Without turning back, he slapped Lin Feng hard on the butt and whispered in his hoarse voice.
"Don't mind those clowns."
"Use basketball to shut them all up."
Lin Feng's dribbling hand paused.
He looked toward the Jazz Team's half-court.
The nine moving figures were no longer just players in his eyes.
They were nine opponents waiting to be crushed by him.
The game continued.
The Jazz Team players discovered that all their trash talk and provocative gestures had absolutely no effect on Lin Feng.
He was like an emotionless robot.
You curse him, he ignores you.
You push him, and he slips away like an eel.
No matter how chaotic the court was, he consistently maintained his own rhythm, calmly organizing every offense and calmly defending every matchup.
This feeling caused waves of powerlessness and frustration among the Jazz Team players.
What they wanted was to see Lin Feng lose control, see him erupt in anger, and see him make mistakes due to emotion.
Not like now, where their punches landed on cotton.
Since trash talk was useless, they decided to try something more direct.
During an off-ball run, Lin Feng was preparing to use Gasol's screen to move toward the corner.
Raja Bell, the veteran in the Jazz Team lineup known for his fierce defense and dirty plays, silently followed behind him.
The instant Lin Feng turned sideways to round the screen.
Raja Bell quickly glanced at the referee's position.
After confirming the referee's attention was on the ball handler.
His foot, clad in a sneaker, silently extended into Lin Feng's running path at an extremely concealed and malicious angle!
Chapter 88: The Purple and Gold Legion's Wall!
Raja Bell's foot, clad only in a basketball shoe, stealthily extended towards Lin Feng's running path at an extremely concealed and malicious angle!
If that foot landed squarely, Lin Feng's ankle would likely be directly deformed.
At best, a sprain; at worst, a season-ending injury!
Just as that foot was about to touch Lin Feng's heel.
A purple and gold figure, like an enraged bull, suddenly charged in from the side!
"Bang!"
A dull thud of muscle colliding!
Kobe Bryant!
He solidly slammed his chest into Raja Bell's body!
Bell had no idea Kobe would suddenly rush out. He was knocked back repeatedly by the immense force, falling onto his backside.
The entire arena erupted in an uproar!
Kobe stood his ground, looking down at Bell on the floor.
His eyes burned with terrifying anger.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Kobe's voice, squeezed out from between his teeth, carried a bone-chilling coldness.
Bell scrambled up from the floor, his face showing a hint of exasperation from his thwarted scheme.
"I'm just playing normal defense! What's wrong with you?"
He tried to argue, glaring fiercely at Kobe.
Kobe stepped forward, his chest almost touching Bell's face.
"Normal defense?"
"You dare touch him again, I dare you!"
Kobe's right index finger was practically poking Raja Bell's nose!
The atmosphere was explosive!
Players from both sides quickly swarmed around, separating the two.
The referee's whistle finally blew. He rushed into the crowd, standing between Kobe and Bell.
"Everyone calm down!"
"Technical foul! One for each side!"
The referee made his ruling.
This ruling brought the boos at Energy Solutions Arenato a new peak.
"Rigged!"
"Kobe threw the first punch!"
Jazz Team fans roared wildly.
But on the Lakers' side, the atmosphere underwent a subtle change.
Gasol walked up to Kobe, patted his shoulder, his eyes full of approval.
Nash looked at Lin Feng, and only after confirming he was alright did he let out a sigh of relief.
And Nick Young, he walked directly to Lin Feng's side and stood firm.
He said nothing, but his posture, his gaze, said it all.
From this moment on.
This group of Lakers veterans, these players whom the outside world called "old, weak, sick, and disabled," spontaneously built an invisible, purple and gold wall around Lin Feng.
The game resumed.
The tension on the court grew even thicker.
The Jazz Team continued with their rough defensive style.
But the Lakers' response also became incredibly tough.
Jazz Team's inside core, Al Jefferson, was posting up under the basket. He habitually used his thick arms to push and shove Gasol.
This time, Gasol didn't use his usual technique to neutralize it.
He lowered his center of gravity and pushed back hard with his own body!
"Bang!"
Two big men over 2.10 meters tall engaged in a primal struggle in the paint.
Jefferson discovered that this Spaniard had suddenly become like a wall; he couldn't budge him at all!
On the perimeter, Nick Young clung to Hayward, the Jazz Team's primary scorer, like super glue.
His arms constantly interfered, his body continuously contested, and from his mouth, he began to spew the trash talk of Los Angeles streets.
"Hey, white boy, that phone call gesture earlier was pretty good."
"But I guess you won't have a chance to make another one tonight."
Hayward was so annoyed by him that his several shots were wildly off target.
Another Jazz Team player, DeMarre Carroll, found himself mismatched against Lin Feng.
He dribbled the ball while trash-talking Lin Feng.
"Kid, I heard you got three women at once?"
"Teach me? Is it just about being handsome?"
His words were full of vulgar innuendo.
Lin Feng remained expressionless, not even twitching an eyebrow.
He was about to speak.
But Nick Young suddenly stepped in from the side, directly blocking between Lin Feng and Carroll.
"Hey! Shut your stinking mouth!"
Nick Young pointed at Carroll, his expression fiercer than ever before.
"Mind your own business! Otherwise, I guarantee you won't get a single point tonight!"
Carroll was startled by Nick Young's intensity, and his trash talk immediately stopped.
Lin Feng stood behind Nick Young, watching his usually carefree teammate step up to protect him for the first time.
He looked to the other side, where Kobe's toughest defense made it difficult for Bell to even receive a pass.
He watched as Gasol engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat for every rebound in the paint.
A warm current slowly rose from the bottom of his heart.
For the first time, he truly felt that he wasn't fighting alone.
Behind him stood a team.
A group of teammates willing to shield him from all overt and covert attacks.
This trust, this protection, was more precious than any victory.
The coldness in Lin Feng's eyes quietly melted at this moment.
He completely let go of his desire to score.
He wanted to give himself completely to this team.
He wanted to repay their trust in his own way!
"Kobe!"
During the next defensive play, Lin Feng's voice suddenly rang out on the court.
"Watch your back! Bell is going to set an off-ball screen for you!"
Kobe, who was chasing defensively, subconsciously adjusted his steps, preemptively went around Bell's screen, and still stuck tightly to his man.
The Jazz Team's tactical play yielded no results.
"Pau!"
Lin Feng's voice rang out again.
"Their pick-and-roll is fake! Millsap is going to the three-point line! Guard outside!"
Gasol, who was about to switch with his teammate, immediately changed his defensive strategy. He didn't rush towards the ball-handler but directly rushed towards Millsap on the perimeter!
Millsap had just run to the three-point line, received the pass, and was preparing to shoot.
Gasol's massive figure had already obscured all his shooting space!
In a hurry, his shot was an airball!
"Nick! Left side! Hayward is going left!"
"Nash! Don't be fooled! He's going to pass to the corner!"
Lin Feng's voice became the Lakers' command tower on defense.
He no longer just defended his own matchup.
He used the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor to survey the entire half-court.
Every Jazz Team movement, every screen, every tactical intention was anticipated by him and then communicated to his teammates in the most concise language.
The situation on the court became incredibly strange.
The Lakers' defense seemed to turn into an impenetrable iron cage.
The Jazz Team players desperately found that no matter how they ran or passed, they would ultimately run headfirst into the Lakers' pre-set defensive traps.
Their offense became stagnant, chaotic, and riddled with turnovers.
Meanwhile, the Lakers players played smoother and smoother.
They only needed to listen to Lin Feng's commands, run to the designated position, and they could complete a successful defensive play.
This feeling was truly amazing!
The Jazz Team's plan to disrupt the Lakers' rhythm with dirty tactics, rough play, and trash talk completely failed in the face of Lin Feng's terrifyingly calm command and the Lakers' unprecedented unity.
"Beep—!"
The halftime whistle finally blew.
The scoreboard showed 48 to 42.
The Lakers, after a passive start, had taken a 6-point lead.
The Jazz Team players walked off the court dejectedly, their faces filled with confusion and frustration.
And in the visiting team's locker room tunnel.
Jazz Team head coach Tyrone Corbin kicked over a nearby beverage cooler, letting out a thunderous roar.
He grabbed the tactical board and yelled at his assistant coaching staff.
"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?!"
"He knows all our tactics, all our signals!!"
"We're not facing a rookie at all! It's a defensive system that can predict the future!"
Chapter 89: The Commander's Symphony!
Halftime ended.
The players returned to the court.
The fans in Salt Lake City erupted in massive boos again, trying to crush the Lakers with noise.
But they soon discovered that the look in the Lakersplayers' eyes had changed.
There was no more solemnity or tension.
Only a cold, steel-like will remained.
The second half began with Lakers possession.
Everyone thought Lin Feng would continue to hold the ball and extend his playmaking from the end of the first half.
However, he just stood at center court and pointed at the backup point guard, Jordan Farmar.
"You handle the ball."
Farmar froze for a moment, somewhat unable to believe it.
The entire audience was also stunned.
What kind of play was this?
In such a crucial game, letting the team's strongest ball-handler play off-ball?
Jazz Team head coach Corbin's brow furrowed even deeper.
He completely couldn't understand the Lakers' tactics.
With a nod of approval from Kobe, Farmar somewhat nervously dribbled the ball past half-court.
Meanwhile, Lin Feng began his off-ball movement.
He didn't run complex plays to find shooting opportunities like a traditional scorer.
His movement was more like taking a stroll on the court.
But every step he took landed exactly on the nodes of the Jazz Team's defensive formation.
His mouth didn't stop either.
Just as Farmar crossed half-court, he heard Lin Feng's clear instructions.
"Farmar! Go to the left! Don't stop!"
Farmar subconsciously followed suit.
The moment he moved, a Jazz guard lunged from the right, attempting a steal.
Farmar narrowly avoided it, breaking into a cold sweat.
He looked back at Lin Feng, his eyes filled with shock.
How did he know the opponent was going to go for a steal from the right?
This was only the beginning.
Lin Feng was like a musician holding a baton, and the entire court became his symphony orchestra.
"Pau! Move to the high post! Get ready to facilitate!"
Gasol moved out without hesitation.
"Nick! Don't charge inside! Go to the corner!"
Lin Feng's voice cut through the noisy arena, reaching Nick Young's ears clearly.
"Three seconds! Gasol will pass to you!"
Nick Young was just about to rely on his individual ability for a signature pull-up jumper.
Hearing Lin Feng's shout, he hesitated for half a second.
He remembered the scene from the first half where Kobestood up for Lin Feng.
He remembered Lin Feng's god-like defensive directing.
"Damn! I'll trust him this once!"
Cursing under his breath, Nick Young abandoned his thought of playing isolation and turned to rush toward the corner.
Almost at the same time, Lin Feng's voice also reached Gasol.
"Pau! Lob it to the corner! Now!"
Gasol didn't even look for Nick Young's position; he trusted Lin Feng.
With a flick of his wrist, the basketball traced a high arc, flying over the defender's head and accurately toward the left corner.
When the ball arrived, Nick Young's feet had just planted firmly outside the three-point line.
He found himself completely wide open!
Hayward, who was defending him, had been fooled by his earlier cutting feint and was still near the paint!
Open!
A massive opening!
Nick Young even had time to adjust his breathing and shooting form.
He took a deep breath and let it fly.
"Swish!"
The ball snapped through the net!
The entire Energy Solutions Arena fell into a dead silence!
Nick Young himself was dazed, looking at his hands in disbelief.
This shot went in way too easily!
He turned to look at Lin Feng.
But he found that Lin Feng wasn't celebrating at all, and didn't even glance at him.
Lin Feng was simply directing his teammates into defensive positions, as if that assist just now was a trivial matter.
For the first time this year, a feeling called "awe" emerged in Nick's heart toward Lin Feng.
This kid wasn't just playing basketball.
He was toying with his opponents!
Jazz Team possession.
They were already unsettled by Lin Feng's defensive directing and forced a shot.
"Clang!"
The ball bounced off the rim.
Gasol boxed out and grabbed the rebound.
The Lakers transitioned to offense again.
This time, Lin Feng's target was Kobe.
"Boss! Pretend to call for the ball on the right!"
Lin Feng shouted while moving.
"Set a screen for me! I'm going to lure Hayward to the free-throw line!"
Kobe's eyelid flickered, but he didn't ask anything.
He immediately moved to the 45-degree angle on the right, making a gesture to call for the ball, successfully drawing the attention of Raja Bell, who was defending him.
Meanwhile, Lin Feng used an extremely complex zigzag run to firmly lure Hayward, who was defending him, toward the free-throw line.
The Jazz Team's defensive formation was thrown into chaos by him alone.
Just when Hayward thought Lin Feng was going to catch the ball for an isolation play.
Lin Feng suddenly cut back and used his body to set a solid screen for the trailing Kobe!
Hayward was thoroughly blocked!
And Raja Bell, who was originally defending Kobe, still had his attention on Kobe's previous gesture; he was half a beat slow!
That half a beat was all it took!
Utilizing Lin Feng's screen, Kobe cut back and appeared in his favorite spot—the right elbow.
Catch, turn, fadeaway, jump shot.
The sequence was fluid and as beautiful as a painting.
"Swish!"
Another clean basket!
Jazz Team head coach Corbin closed his eyes in pain.
He was completely lost now.
The Lakers' two strongest scoring threats were actually starting to set screens for each other?
And that rookie was actually directing Kobe?
Has the world gone crazy?
The Jazz Team's defense was in total disarray.
They didn't know who to guard.
Guard Farmar with the ball? He was just a ball-handling tool.
Guard Lin Feng? He didn't even want the ball, wandering around the court like a ghost while constantly shouting tactical commands they didn't understand.
Guard Kobe and Gasol? But their movements were always announced in advance by Lin Feng, allowing them to always reach the most comfortable positions.
The entire third quarter completely turned into Lin Feng's personal conducting show.
The Lakers played their most fluid and perfect team basketball of the season.
The point gap was widened bit by bit.
When the whistle blew for the end of the third quarter, the score was 85 to 70.
The Lakers were leading by 15 points!
The fourth quarter.
In a desperate situation, the Jazz Team exploded with incredible energy.
They began using more frantic pressing and unreasonable shots to try and salvage the game.
On the Lakers' side, the veterans' stamina began to become an issue.
Kobe's breathing became heavy, and Gasol's pace slowed down.
The gap was slowly closed.
With five minutes left in the game, the Jazz Team tied the score at 92-92 with a three-pointer!
The Energy Solutions Arena erupted once again!
The Lakers called a timeout.
Everyone looked toward Lin Feng.
Lin Feng looked at the sweat on Kobe's forehead and Gasol leaning over with his hands on his knees.
He knew it was time for the symphony to enter its solo section.
He reached out his hand toward Farmar.
"Give me the ball."
Back from the timeout.
Lin Feng stood at center court, taking the initiative to hold the ball for the first time in the second half.
The air in the entire arena seemed to freeze at this moment.
Everyone knew that the moment of the final showdown had arrived.
Hayward stood before Lin Feng, his expression incredibly solemn.
Lin Feng made his move.
[Eye of the Heavenly Emperor]!
Every shift in Hayward's center of gravity and every twitch of his muscles was broken down into basic data in Lin Feng's eyes.
He predicted that Hayward would block his left side.
Lin Feng's body leaned left, but his entire center of gravity suddenly swung right at a bizarre angle!
[Formless Shot]!
While nearly losing his balance, he threw the ball toward the basket from an incredible angle.
The basketball traced an extremely irregular arc in the air.
"Swish!"
It went in!
And he drew a foul from Hayward!
"And One!"
The entire arena went silent!
After the free throw was made.
The next possession.
Lin Feng held the ball again, facing a double-team from the Jazz Team.
In the gap between the players, he threw the ball out again with a posture no one could understand.
"Swish!"
In again!
Next was a long-range three-pointer!
A step-back jumper that ignored the defense!
In just two minutes, Lin Feng scored 8 consecutive points by himself!
Using a completely unreasonable method, he forcefully extinguished the Jazz Team's newly ignited counterattack!
100 to 92!
The Jazz Team was forced to call another timeout.
Their head coach Corbin slumped in his chair, looking at the calm young Eastern man on the sidelines, despair showing in his eyes for the first time.
However, the Jazz Team didn't give up.
They used the remaining time to give it their all, miraculously catching up with the score.
One minute left in the game.
Tied at 100!
Possession was in the Jazz Team's hands!
This was their last offensive opportunity!
In the entire arena, everyone stood up, the air so tense it was almost ready to ignite.
For the Jazz Team's final attack, the ball was handed over without suspense to their most stable scorer, Gordon Hayward.
And the one defending him was Kobe Bryant!
Hayward looked at Kobe in front of him, dribbling and lowering his center of gravity.
The clock was ticking down.
Ten seconds, nine, eight... the efforts of the entire season and all their hopes were weighed on this final shot!
Hayward moved!
He accelerated, trying to break through!
Kobe followed him closely!
Hayward pulled up, step-back!
He was going to complete this season-defining shot under Kobe's defense!
Chapter 90: The Block of Fate! The Hand of God!
Hayward moved!
His entire body was like a taut bow, and in the final few seconds, he suddenly shot forward!
With a fierce burst of speed, he charged straight for the basket!
Kobe's eyes were bloodshot as he doggedly followed Hayward's footsteps.
His legs felt as heavy as lead.
The aftereffects of his ruptured Achilles tendon, combined with the high-intensity exertion of the entire game, made his lateral movement a crucial step too slow.
Hayward seized this momentary opening!
He came to a sudden stop and took a step back, positioning himself near the free-throw line.
This was his most familiar and confident shooting spot!
He had shaken Kobe off by half a body length!
It was a perfect opportunity to shoot.
Kobe lunged forward with all his might, extending his arm, but his fingertips were still an inch away from the basketball.
A hint of a victorious smile already appeared on Hayward's face.
He could feel it—this shot was going in!
In the entire Energy Solutions Arena, every fan wearing a Jazz Team jersey stood up from their seats, arms wide open, ready to welcome the ball that would send them into the playoffs!
On the Jazz Team's bench, everyone rushed to the sidelines, ready to storm the court and toss their hero, Hayward, high into the air!
Time seemed to slow down infinitely at this moment.
But just as Hayward raised the basketball to its highest point and was about to release it...
A black shadow flew out silently from his diagonal rear like a ghost!
The speed of that figure was incredibly fast!
It was Lin Feng!
The moment Hayward made his move to change direction, the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor had already seen through everything!
The angle of Hayward's shoulder sway, the subtle adjustments in his core strength, the vertical height of his jump, the arc of his wrist as he shot... everything was broken down into a stream of cold, precise data in Lin Feng's mind!
He saw the future of this ball!
He knew Hayward would choose a pull-up jump shot!
He knew Hayward would shake off Kobe!
He knew this was the Jazz Team's only and final option!
Therefore, he made a decision that no one in the arena could understand.
He abandoned the player he was defending.
The moment Hayward started his drive, Lin Feng started as well!
This was a complete gamble!
A high-stakes gamble with the fate of the entire season as the wager!
He bet on his own judgment!
He bet on his Eye of the Heavenly Emperor!
His body stretched out in the air like a hunting falcon, his open right hand accurately closing in on the flight path of the basketball!
In Hayward's pupils, the palm descending from the sky was reflected.
The smile on his face froze.
"Smack!"
A loud crack, so sharp it made the hearts of everyone in the arena skip a beat!
Lin Feng's fingertips pressed firmly against the lower half of the basketball!
Then, with an unmatched and terrifying force, he slammed the ball that was about to fly toward the hoop hard and fast against the backboard!
A pinned-ball block!
An earth-shattering pinned-ball block worthy of the history books!
The whole world went quiet.
The Energy Solutions Arena, which had been thunderous just a second ago, became so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.
The twenty thousand fans who were ready to cheer froze in place as if a collective freezing spell had been cast on them, their mouths open but unable to make a sound.
The Jazz Team's bench, the players who were ready to rush onto the court, also stopped in their tracks, their faces filled with confusion and shock.
The basketball was pressed against the backboard, stalling for a fraction of a second.
Then, it fell powerlessly.
Gasol, at the basket, used his last bit of strength to firmly box out and hugged the fate-deciding rebound tightly in his arms.
The referee's whistle blew at that moment.
The timer froze at 5.8 seconds!
Kobe, panting heavily, turned his head.
He saw Lin Feng, who had just landed and was still holding his blocking posture.
He looked at the young man, at that face that remained calm yet carried an aura of looking down on the world.
Kobe's gaze slowly shifted from initial shock to a complex emotion.
In it, there was relief, approval, and even a hint of... jealousy.
He seemed to see his younger self.
That self who could fly through the air, was omnipotent, and could decide the life or death of a game by his own strength.
No.
This kid was even calmer and more terrifying than he had been back then.
He didn't rely on a momentary impulse of bloodlust to make that block.
He used his brain, and those eyes that could see through everything, to complete a surgical and precise assassination!
At this moment, all the doubts and scrutiny in Kobe's heart vanished.
He knew he hadn't chosen the wrong person.
He knew that the crown of Los Angeles had finally found its true owner.
This was the passing of the torch.
The Los Angeles Lakers called a timeout.
As the players walked back to the bench, the atmosphere was suppressed to the extreme.
"Great job! Lin!" Nick Young rushed over and slapped Lin Feng hard on the back.
Gasol handed the ball to the referee and walked over to Lin Feng, panting heavily, but his eyes were full of the excitement of a narrow escape.
Kobe was the last to walk over.
He walked up to Lin Feng and said nothing.
He simply extended his fist and lightly bumped it against Lin Feng's.
"The final attack," Kobe's voice was terribly raspy. "How do you want to play it?"
Everyone's eyes were focused on Lin Feng.
Lin Feng looked at Kobe, then at Gasol and Nash, whose strength was almost completely depleted.
He knew that this final shot could only be executed by him.
"I'll do it."
Lin Feng only said three words.
There was no extra explanation, yet it carried an indisputable decisiveness.
head coach D'Antoni didn't even set up any complicated tactics; he just drew a simple isolation play on the tactical board.
Everyone clear out.
Give the ball to Lin Feng.
Let him decide the fate of this season.
Timeout over.
Lakers inbound the ball in the backcourt.
All the Jazz Team players put on a posture like they were ready to fight for their lives.
They knew these were the final 5.8 seconds.
If they stopped this shot, they could drag the game into overtime.
On their home court, with the Lakers' strength exhausted, they were sure to win in overtime!
The ball was successfully inbounded into Lin Feng's hands.
The clock began to run.
Lin Feng received the ball in the backcourt.
He didn't sprint toward the frontcourt at full speed as everyone expected, to snatch a final offensive moment.
He just steadily dribbled the ball toward the frontcourt, one bounce after another.
His steps were steady and his rhythm was slow, as if he wasn't playing the final attack of a life-and-death battle, but taking a stroll in a park in the afternoon.
Spectators around the world held their breath.
The commentator's voice also became somewhat stuttery due to tension.
"What is Lin Feng doing? Why isn't he accelerating?"
"Only four seconds left! He's too calm!"
"No, this isn't just being calm; this is playing with fire!"
Everyone thought he would attack himself.
Or, at the last moment, pass the ball to Kobe to stage a classic heroic game-winner.
Chapter 91: The Cycle of Trust! Game-Winning Shot in Salt Lake City!
Everyone thought he would take the shot himself.
Or, in the final moment, pass the ball to Kobe for a classic heroic game-winner.
But Lin Feng did not.
He just dribbled the ball slowly, as if measuring the ground beneath his feet.
Time ticked away, second by second.
5 seconds.
4 seconds.
The commentator's voice had completely distorted.
"What is he doing?! What is he waiting for?!"
"God! Is he going to run out the clock?!"
"Is he going to doom the Lakers' entire season of effort?!"
The moment the timer flipped to '3'...
Lin Feng moved!
But not forward!
He suddenly stopped dead, leaning his body backward, as if intending to pull up for a step-back three-pointer right outside the arc!
Hayward, who was defending him, and Millsap, who rushed over from the wing, moved like two walls, frantically converging on him!
They sealed off every possible shooting angle for Lin Feng!
Even the passing lane to Kobe was tightly jammed!
This was a desperate situation!
A cage built for Lin Feng by the entire Jazz Team, using their last bit of strength and will!
However, just before being completely surrounded...
Lin Feng activated the [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor]!
The entire world, in his eyes, was completely digitized.
Hayward, muscle tension 98%, blocking route: left.
Millsap, stamina remaining 15%, blocking route: right.
Kobe, physical condition: Red Alert. Being tightly guarded by Raja Bell.
Gasol, physical condition: Red Alert. Pinned under the basket by Al Jefferson, unable to move.
All choices seemed to lead to a dead end.
But amidst this sea of red data indicating danger...
A faint, yet incredibly conspicuous green data point lit up at the edge of Lin Feng's vision.
Left corner.
Nick Young.
[Confidence Index: 95%]
[Muscle Status: Optimal]
[Optimal Shooting Window: 1.2 seconds later]
The night they lost to the Minnesota Timberwolvesflashed through Lin Feng's mind.
Same location, same choice.
That time, he chose Kobe, who was statistically more 'reasonable'.
The result was failure.
But this time... a slight curve appeared on Lin Feng's lips.
This time, he would no longer believe in what was supposedly 'reasonable'.
He would only believe in the 'future' he could see!
"Now!"
Under the pressure of the two defenders, Lin Feng's body leaned backward at an extremely twisted angle.
His entire body was almost parallel to the ground!
Just as he was about to fall, his right hand, like a nimble snake, used a bizarre posture that no one could understand or imitate, flicking the basketball from the tiny gap under Millsap's armpit—a gap barely large enough for the ball!
[Unorthodox Style: Pass]!
The ball shot out like a cannonball, skimming the floor, whistling towards that forgotten corner!
Nick Young stood in the corner.
He saw Lin Feng being double-teamed, saw Lin Fengabout to fall.
He thought it was over.
But the next second, that familiar basketball, carrying the sound of the wind, arrived precisely at his chest!
That ball seemed to carry an unquestionable command!
A trust that made his soul tremble!
Time, at this moment, seemed to rewind.
But the hesitation and self-doubt in his heart were completely shattered by this pass!
He didn't think about what would happen if he missed.
He didn't even have time to aim at the hoop.
His body reacted purely on instinct.
Catch.
Jump.
Shoot.
The entire motion was fluid, completed in one go!
The ball flew from his fingertips, tracing a high, perfect arc in the air.
Just as the ball reached its apex...
"Beep—!"
The red light by the sideline flashed on!
The final buzzer sounded!
The gaze of all twenty thousand people in the Energy Solutions Arena converged on the descending basketball.
Time seemed to freeze.
"Swish!"
A crisp, beautiful sound that made the blood of every Laker player boil!
The ball went through the net without touching the rim!
Game-winner!
A one-hundred-percent, buzzer-beating game-winner!
The entire arena fell into a dead silence.
The Jazz fans, who had been roaring wildly a second ago, now stood frozen like ducks whose necks had been wrung, their faces etched with despair and disbelief.
After a brief silence...
"OHHHHHH!!!!"
The Lakers' bench erupted!
All the players, coaches, and staff rushed onto the court like madmen!
Nick Young went limp after releasing the shot.
When he saw the ball go in, he was stunned for two seconds.
Then, he suddenly turned around and charged toward the figure who had just gotten up from the ground, like a leopard.
"Aaaaaahhhh!"
Nick Young grabbed Lin Feng tightly, wrapping his legs around his waist, hanging on him like a koala bear, roaring incoherently with excitement.
"You believed in me!!"
"Lin! You really believed in me!!"
"You passed the final shot to me!!!"
He was crying and laughing with excitement, his voice cracking.
Lin Feng could barely breathe from the squeeze and could only helplessly pat his back.
He smiled.
A genuine smile from the heart.
His gaze swept past his celebrating teammates, past the dead silent audience, looking toward a distant place.
Playoffs, here I come.
The online world was completely overturned at this moment.
Just a few minutes ago, major forums and social media were filled with ridicule and curses directed at Lin Feng.
"What is Lin Feng doing? Is he trying to be the villain?"
"The Master of Time Management can't manage time this time, huh?"
"Just wait to see the joke, the Lakers' season is over!"
And the instant that game-winning shot dropped...
The entire public opinion flipped a dramatic 180 degrees!
"Holy crap! What kind of pass was that?! A pass from God?!"
"Is that even a human move? Is Lin Feng's waist made of springs?"
"Game-winner! Assist game-winner! He completed his self-redemption in the most unbelievable way!"
"Hero of Los Angeles! He is still the omnipotent King of L.A.!"
"Scumbag? Screw the scumbag talk! Anyone who can make that shot is a god!"
The previous posts mocking him as a 'playboy' or 'Master of Time Management' were instantly drowned out.
What replaced them were screens full of 'Clutch Player,''Savior,' and 'New King of Los Angeles'!
With one perfect personal performance and one trust that risked everything, he pulled himself back from the abyss of public opinion and onto the pedestal once more!
Back in the visiting team's locker room...
"Bang!"
The first bottle of champagne was popped, and the icy liquid sprayed over everyone.
The players embraced and roared like they had won the championship, releasing the pressure and emotions built up throughout the entire game.
Gasol hugged Nick Young, shouting something excitedly in Spanish.
Nash laughed like a child, pouring an entire bottle of water over Farmar's head.
The entire locker room had turned into an ocean of joy.
Lin Feng leaned against his locker, smiling as he watched everything.
Suddenly, the noisy locker room gradually quieted down.
All eyes turned toward the doorway.
Kobe walked in.
There was no ecstasy on his face, only a deep, relieved calm.
In his hand, he held the game ball from the match.
He walked through the crowd and went straight to Lin Feng.
In the locker room, you could hear a pin drop.
Kobe looked at Lin Feng, his sharp eyes filled with complex emotions.
There was praise, admiration, and relief.
Finally, it all transformed into complete recognition.
He extended the basketball in his hand toward Lin Feng.
"You earned this."
Kobe's voice was hoarse, yet incredibly solemn.
Chapter 92: God Toyed With! The Unstoppable Spurs!
Kobe handed the basketball in his hands to Lin Feng.
"You earned this."
Kobe's voice was raspy, yet incredibly solemn.
Lin Feng took the ball, which still carried the scent of sweat and gunpowder.
This ball carried the weight of a self-redemption, a team victory, and the fate of a season.
He looked at Kobe and nodded solemnly.
"Thanks, Boss."
Kobe didn't say anything more; he turned, picked up a bottle of champagne, uncorked it, and sprayed it toward the ceiling.
After the suppression, the revelry swept through the locker room once again.
It wasn't until the early morning hours, as the players were preparing to leave with their exhausted but excited bodies.
Kobe stood at the door, stopping everyone.
The atmosphere of celebration gradually cooled down.
"Enjoy tonight."
Kobe's gaze swept across everyone's faces.
"Celebrate and let it all out to your heart's content; you deserve this."
"But, remember my words."
His voice dropped, carrying a gravity that made everyone's hearts tighten.
"Starting tomorrow, we will no longer be facing a team like the Jazz, who are just fighting for a playoff spot."
"We are facing a true war machine."
A war machine.
This term sobered up most of the young players in the locker room from their drunken state.
The San Antonio Spurs.
Number one in the West.
The next day.
When the Lakers players woke up from their hangovers and turned on the TV or their phones, they were met with overwhelming headlines from sports media across the country.
ESPN: 'An Eighth-Seed Miracle? No, It's a 4-0 Slaughter.'
TNT:'Stats Don't Lie: The Lakers Have a 0% Win Rate Against the Spurs.'
Yahoo Sports: 'Popovich's Chessboard: The Lakers Don't Even Qualify to Be Pawns.'
Almost every expert and commentator predicted the outcome of this series with a tone that sounded like a death sentence.
They listed detailed statistics.
In their regular-season matchups, the Lakers lost all three games, losing by an average of over 15 points.
Offensive efficiency: Spurs were third in the league, Lakers were eleventh.
Defensive efficiency: Spurs were second in the league, Lakers were twentieth.
Assist-to-turnover ratio: Spurs were first in the league, Lakers were in the lower-middle tier.
They even compared the levels of the coaches.
On one side was the tactical master and legendary godfather, Gregg Popovich.
On the other side was D'Antoni, who advocated for run-and-gun but had a shambolic defensive system, jokingly referred to by fans as 'ruling by doing nothing.'
No matter the angle, this was a matchup with absolutely no suspense.
Inside the Lakers.
The atmosphere in the locker room became somewhat strange.
"Damn! These bastards!"
Nick Young slammed his phone into his locker.
"How can they say that? We just pulled off a game-winner!"
"Do they think we're pushovers?"
"4-0? In their dreams!"
The young players were completely infuriated by the media's blatant contempt.
This anger translated into a volatile atmosphere on the practice court.
The scrimmages became exceptionally intense, as everyone seemed to be holding in a surge of energy.
But this energy carried a sense of impatience and impulsiveness.
Mistakes were frequent during training, and several times, things nearly boiled over due to overly aggressive play.
Kobe had to halt the practice and give everyone a piece of his mind.
"You want to prove yourselves? In this way?"
"Charging around like a bunch of brainless bulls?"
"You're just helping the Spurs warm up!"
Only Lin Feng remained exceptionally quiet.
He didn't participate in his teammates' arguments and impatience.
He just sat alone on the sidelines during the breaks in training, his eyes closed.
In his mind, he was using the [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor] to frantically simulate the Spurs' tactics.
He pulled up all the game tapes of the Spurs from the regular season.
However, the results startled him.
He could predict Tony Parker's drive paths, but Parker had over a dozen passing options.
He could see through Tim Duncan's post moves, but the Spurs' perimeter shooters could always find an open spot.
He couldn't even lock onto an absolute core player.
The Spurs' offense was like mercury flowing on the ground—pervasive and finding every crack.
There seemed to be thousands of variations on their playbook.
Everyone was an initiator, and everyone was a finisher.
For the first time, the [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor] felt a sense of powerlessness.
It could see through a person's movements and the intent of a tactic.
But it could not see through a vast and complex system composed of countless precise tactical combinations.
He couldn't find that 'core'.
Because the core of the Spurs was the'system' itself.
Two days later, the Lakers arrived in San Antonio via a private jet.
When they stepped out of the airport, they weren't met with the frantic insults and provocations of Salt Lake City, but rather a strange tranquility.
It was a strange tranquility.
There weren't many media members or fans outside the airport.
There were no boos, no banners, and no trash talk.
They just quietly watched the Lakers players walk by, their eyes calm, even carrying a polite smile.
But beneath that smile was a deeper, absolute disregard.
It felt as if they were saying: Welcome to San Antonio; your journey ends here.
This disregard was more chilling than any provocation.
G1 Game Day.
AT&T Center.
The atmosphere here was completely different from Salt Lake City.
There was no deafening noise, no crazed fans.
The arena was filled with spectators wearing black, white, and silver jerseys; they were quiet and focused, as if they were enjoying an elegant concert.
But every Lakers player could feel the invisible pressure in the air.
The game began.
The Lakers' first defensive possession.
The Spurs' point guard, the French Sensation Tony Parker, unhurriedly dribbled the ball to the frontcourt.
Lin Feng matched up against him.
After the peak battle of hitting the game-winner against the Jazz, Lin Feng's confidence was at its zenith.
He immediately activated the [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor]!
He wanted to completely shut down the Spurs' engine starting from the very first defense!
In the vision of the [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor], every minute movement of Parker's was infinitely magnified.
His center of gravity leaned to the left.
There was a slight twitch in his shoulders.
His eyes glanced at Danny Green in the left corner.
A fake!
Lin Feng instantly reached a conclusion in his mind.
This is a fake drive to the left; his real intention is to pass to Kawhi Leonard on the right!
However.
Just as Lin Feng was about to move early to block the passing lane...
Parker simply made the most basic pass, devoid of any flashy moves.
He handed the ball to Tim Duncan at the high post.
Lin Feng's prediction completely missed the mark.
He was stunned where he stood.
The ball reached Duncan's hands without a moment's pause; with a flick of his wrist, Duncan sent a bounce pass to Manu Ginobili, who was cutting in from the other side.
Ginóbili took the ball, drawing Kobe's defense.
He didn't even look at the basket; with a stylish behind-the-back pass, the basketball flew accurately to the left corner.
Danny Green.
He stood there, with no one within three meters of him.
He jumped and shot with composure.
"Swish!"
The three-pointer went in.
The entire play, from Parker's pass to Green's shot, took less than four seconds.
Three passes, smooth as flowing water.
Lin Feng stood there, his mind a complete blank.
For the first time, he felt that his [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor] was like a joke.
He saw through Parker, but the ball wasn't in Parker's hands.
He predicted the opponent's tactic, but the opponent didn't execute that tactic at all.
On the sidelines.
Spurs head coach Popovich watched the court expressionlessly, holding a glass of red wine in his hand.
It was as if the basket just now had nothing to do with him.
This was just the beginning.
Over the next few possessions, Lin Feng fell completely into the 'information fog' that Popovich had meticulously designed for him.
He predicted Ginóbili would go for a Snake-like drive, but Ginóbili was just a screen; the real killing blow was Duncan's Bank shot.
He saw through the Pick-and-roll between Duncan and Parker, but the ball was given to Leonard on a Backdoor cut for an easy layup.
He could see the next move of every Spurs player.
But he could never guess who the ball would be passed to.
For the first time, his [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor] was completely toyed with by an invisible, intangible'system'.
The first quarter was barely halfway through.
Lin Feng was already drenched in sweat; the physical toll was immense as he tried to keep up with the Spurs' dazzling ball movement and process the explosion of useless information in his mind.
The result was that his predictions only managed to disrupt one inconsequential pass from the Spurs.
The effect was negligible.
The point gap had already widened to double digits.
The first quarter was nearing its end.
The Lakers were on offense.
Kobe took the ball in the low post, wanting to use his individual ability to force a breakthrough.
Defending him was that expressionless young man.
Kawhi Leonard.
Leonard spread his disproportionately large hands, which were like two iron pincers, constantly disrupting Kobe's dribble.
Kobe made several Jab steps in succession, but he couldn't shake off Leonard's defense.
He grew a bit impatient and forced a Turnaround fadeaway jumper!
At the moment he jumped and landed, his left foot suffered a slight stumble upon touching the ground.
A flicker of imperceptible pain flashed across Kobe's face.
Subconsciously, he reached down to support his knee with his hand.
Chapter 93: Systematic Crushing! Popovich's Chessboard!
Subconsciously, he supported his knee with his hand.
This shot, under Leonard's interference, bounced off the rim.
Duncan secured the rebound, and the San Antonio Spurswere in no hurry to attack, instead steadily running down the remaining time of the first quarter.
"Beep—!"
The whistle for the inter-quarter break sounded.
Kobe didn't leave the court immediately; he stood where he was, gently moving his left knee with a deep frown.
D'Antoni walked over quickly, his face full of concern.
"Kobe, your knee..."
"It's nothing."
Kobe waved his hand, cutting him off, and walked toward the bench with a grim expression.
The atmosphere at the Los Angeles Lakers' bench was terrifyingly oppressive.
D'Antoni held the tactical board but couldn't say a single word.
All his tactics seemed like a laughable joke in front of the San Antonio Spurs' precision machine.
He looked at Lin Feng, the young man who had been the savior in the last game, who was now bowing his head as sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor.
"Lin."
D'Antoni's voice was a bit dry.
"Stop trying to predict all of them."
"I don't know how you do it, but it's draining your stamina, and... it's not working."
He took a deep breath and circled Tony Parker's name on the tactical board.
"In the second quarter, you stick to him like glue! He's the engine; if we choke him out, we have a chance!"
Lin Feng looked up at D'Antoni.
He wanted to say something, wanted to say that the Spurs had more than one engine.
But in the end, he just nodded.
Because he didn't have a better solution either.
For the first time, the Eye of the Heavenly Emperorseemed so pale in the face of a team system.
The second quarter began.
Lin Feng strictly followed the coach's instructions, sticking to Tony Parker like a piece of plaster.
He gave up observing the whole court and focused all his energy on predicting Parker's movements alone.
Spurs' possession.
Parker dribbled to the frontcourt, and seeing Lin Feng's inseparable stance, a slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
He didn't try to break through, or even perform any extra fakes.
He just passed the ball to Manu Ginobili next to him a second before Lin Feng closed in.
Then, he just stood there, motionless.
Lin Feng was stunned.
He was "pinned" in place by Parker.
If he went to help on defense, Parker would immediately get a huge open look.
If he didn't move, he became a spectator who could only watch the show.
And the ball was already in Ginóbili's hands.
That Argentine was like a demonic snake gliding through water.
With a bizarre change of direction and a Euro step, he easily tore through the Lakers' perimeter defense.
Gasol was forced to slide over for help defense.
Just when everyone thought Ginóbili was going for a layup or a pass to Duncan inside.
In mid-air, with an inconceivable move as if he had eyes in the back of his head, he whipped the ball toward the opposite forty-five-degree angle.
Kawhi Leonard.
Catch, shoot.
The basketball traced a cold arc through the air.
"Swish!"
Another three-pointer!
Watching all this, a chill rose from the soles of Lin Feng's feet.
He understood.
Popovich's tactic was "de-centralization."
When he tried to predict the whole court, the Spursdefeated him with the simplest passes.
When he tried to man-mark a specific core player, the Spurs immediately switched to another core.
Everyone was an initiator, and everyone was a finisher.
This was a fucking open scheme specifically designed to counter the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor!
On the offensive end, Lin Feng felt an unprecedented sense of suffocation.
He tried to break the deadlock with his individual ability.
He used his speed to get past the first line of defense.
But as soon as he rushed into the paint, before he could make his next move.
Duncan's massive figure was already blocking his path.
At the same time, Leonard on the wing had already closed in like a ghost, sealing off all his possible passing lanes.
He seemed to have fallen into a great web woven of black, white, and silver.
In desperation, he could only choose a high-difficulty fadeaway jumper.
"Clang!"
Under the interference of Leonard's fingertips, the ball was wildly off-target.
On the sidelines, Popovich finally picked up his red wine, took a small sip, and his face remained expressionless.
Kobe stepped up.
Looking at the almost stagnant situation on the court, he knew he had to do something.
In the low post, he used all his strength to back down Leonard.
That young man, like an emotionless stone, used his massive palms to constantly harass Kobe.
Every turn and every exertion of force by Kobe seemed exceptionally difficult.
Relying on his experience, he finally created a sliver of space and completed a signature fadeaway jumper.
The ball went in.
But the moment he landed, his left knee sent another sharp jolt of pain.
A flash of agony crossed his face, but it was quickly masked by his powerful willpower.
However, this subtle expression did not escape the capture of the sideline cameras.
On the commentary desk, Charles Barkley let out a sigh.
"Kobe is burning his last bits of energy."
"But his opponent is the young, tireless Kawhi Leonard."
"This matchup was unfair from the start."
The third quarter.
The Lakers' defense completely collapsed.
The point difference was quickly stretched to over twenty points.
Lin Feng was exhausted from running on the court, sweat soaking his jersey and blurring his vision.
He watched the Spurs players pierce through his team's defense time and again with fluid cooperation.
For the first time on a basketball court, he felt such a profound sense of helplessness.
It was a despair that came from the depths of the soul when facing an invincible enemy.
"Beep—!"
D'Antoni called a timeout and subbed out all the starters.
The game entered garbage time.
Lin Feng walked off the court, plopped onto the bench, and covered his head with a towel.
He didn't want to watch anything happening on the court anymore.
He just listened to the sound of the basketball hitting the floor and the polite, restrained cheers of the Spurs fans.
Every sound was like a heavy hammer, pounding on his self-esteem.
The final whistle of the game finally blew.
105 to 80.
The Lakers suffered a crushing 25-point defeat.
Lin Feng's stats finally settled at 22 points and 8 assists.
This was a set of stats that looked decent.
But on the court, his impact had been almost completely neutralized.
He won the stats but lost the entire game.
In the player tunnel, reporters surrounded Kawhi Leonard, who had performed excellently tonight.
"Kawhi, you successfully limited Kobe tonight, holding him to just 8-of-25 shooting. How did you do it?"
Leonard looked at the camera, and his face still showed no emotional fluctuation.
"I was just following the coach's orders."
The post-game press conference.
The atmosphere on the Lakers' side was heavy.
Kobe did not attend because his knee needed icing.
Lin Feng and D'Antoni sat on the stage, facing the barrage of reporters' cameras and microphones.
"Lin, this is the most painful defeat since you entered the NBA. Do you have anything to say?"
Lin Feng held the microphone and remained silent for a long time.
"We were outplayed."
On the other side, the atmosphere at the Spurs' conference was much more relaxed.
A reporter threw that tricky question to Popovich.
"Coach, how did you limit Lin Feng tonight? In his last game against the Jazz, he almost single-handedly dominated the game, but tonight, he seemed completely lost."
Popovich adjusted his glasses and picked up the microphone.
His face wore that trademark expression—a bit impatient, yet nonchalant.
"Limit him?"
The old man asked back, then spoke slowly.
"We were just playing our brand of basketball."
Chapter 94: The Final Paranoia! God's Chessboard!
Popovich's words, "We're just playing our brand of basketball," were like an invisible thorn piercing the hearts of every Lakers player.
On the bus back to the hotel, the atmosphere was so quiet it was unsettling.
There was no longer the revelry and shouting that followed the buzzer-beater in Salt Lake City.
Only a dead silence.
The frustration of defeat, mixed with the fear of the San Antonio Spurs' precision war machine, shrouded the entire bus like a thick fog.
Nick Young stopped joking around; he leaned against the window, staring at the monotonous night view of San Antonio in silence.
Gasol closed his eyes, his brow furrowed, seemingly replaying every detail of the game in his mind, but the more he replayed it, the more powerless he felt.
Kobe sat at the very front, also with his eyes closed; no one knew what he was thinking.
The soul of the entire team had been sucked away by that 25-point blowout defeat.
At the hotel.
The players silently returned to their respective rooms; even saying "goodnight" felt redundant.
In the hallway, there was only the sound of the Team Doctor's hurried footsteps.
He knocked on Kobe's door and then closed it behind him.
Lin Feng stood at his own doorway, looking at that closed door with a bad premonition in his heart.
He was restless in his room, his mind repeatedly replaying scenes from the game.
Parker's passing, Ginóbili's drives, Duncan's facilitation... and Leonard's hands, which were like iron claws.
For the first time, he realized that his [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor] was so insignificant in the face of a perfect system.
After ten minutes, he couldn't sit still any longer and got up to head towards Kobe's room.
He knocked gently on the door.
No response.
He knocked again.
Only muffled, low-voiced conversation came from inside.
Lin Feng hesitated for a moment before gently pushing the door open.
The scene in the room made his heart suddenly contract.
Kobe was half-lying on the bed, his face pale, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.
His left leg was stretched out, his knee swollen like a steamed bun.
The Team Doctor was holding a large syringe, slowly drawing a tube of pale yellow fluid from his knee.
On a small tray nearby, there was already a container half-filled with the fluid.
The Team Doctor's expression was incredibly grave.
"Kobe, I must say it again, there is severe fluid buildup in your knee."
"This is already a warning sign."
"You must rest the next game."
There was a note of pleading in the Team Doctor's voice.
"Otherwise, if you put weight on it incorrectly again, your meniscus could tear, which would mean you're out for the season, or even... the end of your career."
Kobe's eyes stared at the ceiling, out of focus.
He just squeezed out a few words from between his teeth.
"Drain it completely."
"Then, give me a painkilling injection."
The Team Doctor's movements halted; he looked at Kobein disbelief.
"Are you crazy?! An injection will numb the pain, and you won't even know when your knee has reached its limit! This is no different from suicide!"
"I said, give it to me."
Kobe's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a stubbornness that seemed to freeze the air.
The Team Doctor looked into those eyes burning with the fire of paranoia; finally, he sighed helplessly, put down the syringe, and began preparing the injection.
Just then, Kobe noticed Lin Feng at the door.
"Something up?"
His voice sounded a bit hoarse due to the pain.
Lin Feng walked in, his gaze unable to move away from Kobe's swollen knee and the tube of yellow fluid next to it.
A massive impact struck his heart.
He had always thought his talent and his system were strong enough.
But until this moment, he truly felt how powerless he was.
He couldn't even share a shred of the pain for this legend who was burning everything he had.
Lin Feng's throat felt a bit dry.
He opened his mouth and finally said those long-overdue words.
"I'm sorry, Boss."
"I couldn't... help you."
Kobe pulled his gaze back from the ceiling and let it fall on Lin Feng's face.
He looked at the expression of guilt, self-reproach, and confusion on the young man's face.
He shook his head.
"It's not your fault."
Kobe took a breath to steady his voice.
"This isn't a one-on-one game, Lin."
"This is a war."
"We only lost the first battle; it doesn't mean we'll lose the whole war."
He looked at Lin Feng, his His eyes sharpened.
"Do you know how many years it took Popovich to build that San Antonio Spurs system?"
"Ten years."
"They spent ten years developing that chemistry, that kind of offense that's as pervasive as water."
"You want to defeat it in one game? Even God couldn't do that."
Lin Feng looked at the thick ice pack wrapped around Kobe's knee, and at his pale but still resolute face.
He suddenly understood.
His own strength was still far from enough.
Individual power, in the face of a true team system, would be infinitely weakened or even dismantled.
He wasn't yet strong enough to support the final pride of this legend on his own.
Lin Feng returned to his room.
He threw himself onto the bed and covered his eyes with his arm.
The room was pitch black, but his mind was filled with the shocking image of Kobe's knee.
His phone vibrated once on the pillow.
He picked it up; it was a message from Yinna.
"Are you okay? I saw the news... the game was lost, and... Kobe's injury..."
The message was full of worry.
Lin Feng stared at those words for a long time.
How should he reply?
Tell her that the game was a total disaster, and he was played like a fiddle by the opponent's system?
Tell her that the team's leader was resorting to self-destruction by taking painkilling injections just to play the next game?
He couldn't.
He took a deep breath and typed out a line of text.
"Everything's fine."
"It's just one loss; we'll win it back."
Clicked send.
He knew the situation was terrible.
G2 game day.
In the Los Angeles Lakers locker room, the atmosphere was suppressed to the extreme.
Everyone knew Kobe was playing with a serious injury.
The anger and resentment on the young players' faces had been replaced by a heavy worry.
D'Antoni stood before the tactical board, trying to arrange new tactics, but even he felt his voice lacked confidence.
Everyone's eyes involuntarily drifted toward the figure sitting in the corner.
Kobe was having the Team Doctor wrap his left knee with thick bandages and braces.
Layer after layer, it was like putting the final armor on a crumbling warrior.
The pep talk ended abruptly.
The players stood up and walked toward the tunnel.
Just in that dim area before entering the tunnel.
Kobe suddenly reached out and grabbed Lin Feng's arm.
His stride had a nearly imperceptible hitch.
He pulled Lin Feng aside; the surroundings were noisy with people, but his voice entered Lin Feng's ears clearly.
"I can still play, but what I can do this game is limited."
Kobe's eyes stared intently at Lin Feng; in them was the final, and also the absolute, hope.
"We must find a way to shatter their damn system."
"It's up to you, understand?"
Chapter 95: An Unsolvable War of Attrition! The Burning Mamba!
Kobe's eyes were fixed on Lin Feng, filled with the last and total sum of hope.
"We must find a way to shatter their damn system."
"It's on you, understand?"
Those words were like a red-hot branding iron, seared into Lin Feng's heart.
He watched Kobe turn and limp toward the court, his back carrying a sense of tragic determination.
Lin Feng clenched his fists.
He understood.
This game was no longer just about winning or losing.
This was Kobe's final battle, with his career on the line.
He, Lin Feng, was the last card Kobe had placed on the gambling table.
"Beep—!"
The opening whistle of G2 echoed through the AT&T Center.
When Kobe's name was called, the Spurs fans throughout the arena unexpectedly stood as one.
They gave Kobe a long, enthusiastic round of applause.
There was no hostility or mockery in the applause, only respect.
But to the ears of the Lakers players, this respect was more piercing than any vicious curse.
It felt like a condescending handout.
A final salute to a warrior about to be executed.
The Lakers' first possession.
Naturally, the ball was handed to Kobe.
Facing Leonard's defense, he performed his signature triple-threat jab step.
Then, he forced a jump and took a fadeaway shot.
Everyone expected that familiar, picture-perfect form.
"Clang!"
The basketball hit the front of the rim weakly and bounced away limply.
There was no expression on Kobe's face.
But Lin Feng saw it.
Kobe's vertical jump was at least ten centimeters lower than usual.
His shooting power was clearly insufficient.
That painkilling injection had numbed his pain but also stripped away the fine motor control of his muscles.
The Spurs grabbed the rebound and immediately launched an attack.
It was that same familiar, fluid ball movement.
The ball didn't stay in anyone's hands for more than two seconds.
Duncan received the ball at the free-throw line and made a simple bank shot.
"Swish!"
The ball went in.
It was as easy as a practice session.
The Lakers brought the ball in.
Before the ball even crossed half-court,
Danny Green was like a hound, sticking right to Lin Feng.
His chest repeatedly bumped against Lin Feng's back.
His arms, like vines, constantly harassed Lin Feng's dribble.
Just as Lin Feng shook him off,
Kawhi Leonard's figure appeared silently before him, spreading those massive hands.
Rotational defense.
Full-court press.
They were like two well-trained hounds, ordered to tire their prey to death.
Popovich's intention couldn't be clearer.
Kobe was already half-crippled.
As long as they smothered Lin Feng, the only explosive scoring threat left, the game would be over.
Lin Feng felt the impact on his chest and the frustration of his dribble being constantly disrupted.
He gave up.
He completely gave up on using the [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor] to decipher the Spurs' damn system.
It was useless.
You can never wake someone who is pretending to sleep, and you can never use anticipation to defeat a system that has no fixed tactics.
Since reason wouldn't work,
Then flip the table!
A ruthless glint flashed in Lin Feng's eyes.
He stopped passing and stopped organizing.
He activated [Formless Shot]!
Facing Danny Green's tight pressure, Lin Feng suddenly forced an acceleration!
Green followed him closely.
Just as the two were about to fly out of bounds, Lin Feng's body jerked backward in mid-air at an angle that defied the laws of physics!
Behind him, Leonard and Duncan had already rotated into defensive positions!
A triple-team!
An airtight cage!
With his body almost parallel to the ground, Lin Fengflicked his wrist and threw the ball.
It was a drifting shot with no discernible arc.
Every spectator in the AT&T Center held their breath.
"Swish!"
The basketball brushed the edge of the backboard and went straight through the net!
A three-pointer!
A collective gasp echoed through the arena.
Even Popovich subconsciously frowned.
This shot shouldn't have gone in.
It was illogical.
But before the Lakers players could cheer,
The Spurs' inbound pass had already flown across half-court.
Parker made a simple drive, drawing Gasol's help defense.
A bounce pass.
Duncan appeared at his most comfortable forty-five-degree angle.
Wide open.
Jump, bank shot, score.
2 to 3.
The Spurs effortlessly took back two points.
The excitement on the Lakers players' faces froze.
It felt like you had exerted all your strength to throw what you thought was a world-shaking punch.
Only for your opponent to casually extend a finger and neutralize all your power.
Lin Feng felt a massive drain on his energy.
That miracle shot had nearly drained almost half of his stamina.
But he didn't stop.
On the next possession, he held the ball again.
Facing a double-team from Leonard and Green, he slipped through the gap like an eel.
But just as he charged into the paint, the mountain that was Duncan blocked his path again.
A moment before losing his balance and falling, Lin Fengclosed his eyes and tossed the ball toward the basket.
The ball traced a strange, crooked arc through the air.
"Swish!"
It went in again!
The entire arena fell into an eerie silence once more.
If the first one was luck,
What about this second one?
Lin Feng climbed up from the floor, his chest heaving violently.
However,
Before he could even catch his breath,
The Spurs' attack came again.
This time it was Ginóbili; he didn't even drive.
With just a few simple pass screens, Parker appeared in the corner.
Open.
A layup.
Score.
Once again, the Spurs responded to Lin Feng's miraculous shot in the simplest, most effortless way possible.
The entire first half fell into this bizarre cycle.
Lin Feng kept the Lakers alive with one unreasonable, inconceivable individual play after another.
He hit a drifting three-pointer over three people.
He completed a casual floater while losing his balance.
He completed a three-point play (2+1) the moment he was fouled.
Every one of his scores was worthy of a spot on the daily Top 5 plays.
But every time he looked back, panting,
The Spurs would always use a casual team play lasting no more than five seconds to take back the score.
The Lakers' morale was constantly eroded in this alternating cycle of "hope" and "despair."
Nick Young's face no longer held its usual playfulness and arrogance.
Gasol's eyes were filled with confusion and frustration.
Kobe was on the court, constantly running and acting as a decoy.
Like a lion with its teeth pulled, he used his remaining physical presence to draw defensive attention away for Lin Feng.
Every run, every step he took, seemed exceptionally heavy.
"Beep—!"
The half-time whistle finally blew.
The score was frozen at 55 to 40.
The Lakers were still trailing by 15 points.
Lin Feng rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air.
Sweat had completely soaked through his jersey.
He could feel his stamina clearly declining under the opponent's relentless, rotational exhaustion.
He had beaten his individual matchups, Leonard and Green, but lost to the entire Spurs system.
The players walked silently toward the tunnel.
In the dim shadows of the tunnel entrance,
A camera inadvertently captured a scene.
Kobe Bryant, the man who always held his head high, was now leaning heavily against the cold wall with one hand.
He was bent over, his whole body heaving violently like a drowning man, gasping for air in pain.
Beside him, the Team Doctor's face was filled with helpless worry and anxiety.
This scene was broadcast to the entire world.
In that moment, the hearts of countless Kobe fans watching on television broke.