114: The Beast's audience! Scarlett Johansson's invitation!

Scarlett Johansson.

That name, like a stone dropped into a calm lake, stirred ripples in Lin Feng's heart.

He looked at the lit-up phone screen, his mind racing.

Taylor's call, he could understand as stemming from a sense of possessiveness and a counterattack after being provoked.

But Scarlett... between them, they barely even had any real interaction.

After a brief moment of thought, Lin Feng slid to answer the call.

On the other end, there was no immediate sound, only a very faint breathing sound with a slight electrical texture.

This deliberate silence was a form of pressure in itself.

Lin Feng did not speak first; he just waited quietly.

He knew that the one who spoke first often lost the initiative.

Finally, a light chuckle came from the other end of the line.

The laugh was husky, magnetic, carrying the lazy yet dangerous charm unique to mature women.

"It seems you are calmer than I imagined, Lin."

Scarlett's voice slowly drilled into Lin Feng's ears through the receiver.

"Do you need something from me?"

Lin Feng's tone remained flat.

He reviewed the explanation he had just given to Taylor in his mind, preparing to use it again.

However, Scar... "I watched your game."

Scarlett interrupted him directly, not giving him a chance to explain.

"And I saw the story between you and that little girl after the game."

Her tone carried no emotion—no jealousy, no anger, just a pure statement.

"So, I guess you must be having a headache right now, wondering how to explain yourself to me, right?"

Lin Feng leaned back on the sofa without speaking.

The explanation he had prepared was blocked in his throat by her casually spoken sentence.

This woman was harder to deal with than Taylor.

"I am currently in a war."

Lin Feng ultimately decided to respond in the same manner.

"A very difficult war."

"I need to concentrate all my energy to win it."

"When I win, I will..."

"Darling."

Scarlett interrupted him again, the husky voice carrying a clear, playful hint of laughter.

"You don't need to give me any answers."

Lin Feng froze.

"Answers and explanations are for little girls who need a sense of security."

Scarlett's voice was like a seductive, corrupting spell in the dark.

"And I am not interested in those things."

"I smell blood and the scent of victory on you."

"That fascinates me more than any explanation."

The knuckles of Lin Feng's hand gripping the phone tightened.

He felt like prey that had been completely seen through.

No, or rather, the other party didn't care if he was prey or not.

"You are like a beast let out of its cage."

Scarlett's voice lowered further, carrying an indescribable excitement.

"I love watching beasts fight."

"So, don't disappoint me."

"Keep winning, and let me see how many prey you can tear apart."

The voice on the other end was full of insinuation and teasing.

Not only did she not exert any pressure, but she also displayed an immense, almost pathological interest.

Lin Feng suddenly understood.

If Taylor was the Queen who looked down from above, issuing a challenge through victory and demanding submission,

Then Scarlett was the Empress sitting at the highest point of the Colosseum, watching the beasts fight below with interest, enjoying the blood and violence.

Their personalities were completely different.

The way to manage them would naturally be completely different.

"In that case, as an audience member, there should be a wager, right?"

The corner of Lin Feng's mouth curved into an arc.

Since the other party wanted to watch a show, she couldn't be allowed to watch for free.

That husky chuckle came from the phone again.

"Of course."

Scarlett's voice was crisp and decisive.

"If you can win this series and advance to the Western Conference Finals,"

"The male companion spot at the premiere of my next movie is yours."

This bet had an equally fatal attraction on another level compared to Taylor's private concert.

Being the male companion at a top Hollywood actress's premiere meant directly stepping into the pinnacle social circle of fame and fortune.

"Deal."

Lin Feng showed no hesitation.

"I look forward to your performance, Mr. Beast."

With that, Scar... hung up the phone.

Lin Feng held his phone and let out a long breath.

The temporary 'truce' between the two Queens completely removed his worries.

He knew this was just the calm before the storm.

He had temporarily postponed the outbreak of the crisis with victory and a grander promise.

But he also understood that once he lost the game, or failed to fulfill his promise, the emotional explosion would be even more violent than a defeat on the court.

Everything rested on Game 4.

Resting on what Kobe called the true 'hellish battle'.

Lin Feng stood up, the last trace of fluctuation in his eyes disappearing.

What remained was only the calmness and focus of the abyss.

He took off his shirt, revealing a physique with smooth lines, full of explosive power.

He was about to begin recovery training.

He needed to adjust his body as quickly as possible to be ready to face a real war.

Meanwhile.

San Antonio, the Spurs' training facility.

The atmosphere was as heavy as the sea before a storm.

Popovich stood before the tactical board, expressionless.

He did not review any tactical details from Game 3.

Because it was meaningless now.

He simply drew a large human figure on the tactical board with a red marker.

Then, he looked up, his gaze sweeping over every player with their heads down.

Duncan, Parker, Ginóbili, Leonard... "Forget Game 3."

Popovich's voice was icy and devoid of emotion.

"Forget those damn tactics, forget those useless rotations."

He picked up the board eraser and wiped away all the offensive symbols on it.

Leaving only that red human figure.

"From now on, we have only one tactic."

Popovich's eyes flashed with a nearly insane, reckless light.

"Use your bodies to crash into him!"

"Use your knees to ram him!"

"Use your elbows to wear him down!"

"I want him to feel the confrontation from hell on every catch, on every run!"

"I want him to not even have the strength to take a standing shot!"

Popovich heavily slammed the marker onto the tactical board.

"For Game 4, our goal is not to win the game."

"It is to destroy him!"