115: The final piece of the puzzle! The calm before the storm!

It was a relentless hunt, a fight to the death, targeted at him alone.

Lin Feng leaned his back against the cold sofa, but a chill even more piercing than the sofa's temperature ran through him.

The frozen image on the television screen was Leonard's face—young, yet already showing a cold, ruthless profile.

He felt as if he could look through the screen and see the will of Popovich behind those eyes.

It was a determination to erase him from the court at any cost.

The air was quiet, almost oppressively so.

The revelry of victory had long since receded, leaving only the dead silence before a storm.

The next day.

After dealing with the two phone calls from Taylor and Scarlett, which were laced with hidden agendas, Lin Feng completely sealed away all of his emotions.

Their challenges and their bets had transformed into the most primal fuel in his heart.

He knew very well that from now until the end of Game 4, only basketball remained in his world.

And the hellish war that was about to arrive.

The Lakers' practice facility.

Lin Feng arrived earlier than anyone else.

He didn't perform his usual shooting routine as he normally would.

Instead, he sought out the team's video analyst and an assistant coach.

"I need your help."

Lin Feng's voice was very calm.

"I need to simulate every kind of physical contact I might encounter in Game 4."

The assistant coach was somewhat puzzled.

"Lin, you mean... contact at a foul level?"

"No."

Lin Feng shook his head.

"Something more troublesome than fouls."

He pointed to his ribs, the outside of his thighs, and his wrists.

"I need someone to constantly dig their forearm into my ribs before I catch the ball."

"To bump my thighs with their knees while I'm moving off-ball."

"To flick my wrists with their fingers as I'm shooting."

"I need to get used to finding my shooting rhythm while being bumped, pulled, and harassed by all sorts of small dirty tricks."

The assistant coach and the analyst looked at each other, both seeing the shock in the other's eyes.

They immediately understood what Lin Feng meant.

He was preparing for an ugly street fight filled with clashing muscles.

"I also need to study one more thing."

Lin Feng's gaze turned toward the empty court.

"How to find the switch to enter that 'Zone' while my body is under constant attack and my mind is being incessantly harassed."

He knew that Shintaro Midorima's Full-Court Three-Pointer was his only weapon.

But this weapon required a startup condition.

And that was absolute focus.

The Spurs' focus of attack in Game 4 would be his concentration.

They would use every method possible to make him feel pain and irritation, preventing him from focusing 100% of his attention on the single act of shooting.

The training began.

A tall practice player with a long wingspan played the roles of Danny Green and Leonard.

His task was simple.

To torment Lin Feng with all sorts of moves that skirted the edge of the rules.

Lin Feng moved off-ball again and again.

Thud!

His chest was slammed hard by the practice player's body, causing his catch motion to deform.

He adjusted his breathing and continued to run.

This time, the moment he used a screen, he felt a knee maliciously bump his thigh.

He didn't stop, forcing himself to catch the ball, jump, and shoot.

Clang!

The ball missed by a mile.

Lin Feng wasn't discouraged in the slightest; he picked up the ball and started over.

Knocked down, get back up.

Knocked down again, get back up again.

Sweat soaked his practice jersey, but the expression on his face grew increasingly calm.

He was using his body to memorize this pain, to adapt to this level of contact.

Just then.

The sound of a crutch hitting the floor echoed at the entrance of the gym.

Kobe had arrived.

He didn't disturb anyone, merely leaning on his crutch and watching quietly from the sidelines for a while.

After Lin Feng was knocked off balance by the practice player once more, Kobe spoke.

"Idiot."

His voice wasn't loud, but it silenced the entire gym.

Lin Feng stopped and looked at Kobe.

Kobe hobbled over, pointing at the practice player.

"He uses his body to hit you, why don't you use his power?"

Lin Feng was stunned.

"Basketball isn't about just taking hits head-on."

Kobe's eyes were as sharp as knives.

"Learn to redirect force, learn to use contact to create space for yourself."

Kobe used his uninjured leg to give a demonstration.

"When he bumps you, let your body step back half a pace with the momentum. His center of gravity will lean forward, and in that split second, you'll have shooting space between you."

"When he knees your thigh, don't resist it. Let your leg slide back with his force while using your shoulder to pin his upper body."

"They want to turn you into a battlefield; you turn them into your stepping stones."

Every word from Kobe was like a key, opening a new door in Lin Feng's mind.

These were the survival laws of an apex predator, written outside the official rules of basketball.

They were the precious experiences Kobe had traded for with the injuries, blood, and sweat of a twenty-year career.

"And one more thing."

Kobe pointed to his own head.

"Don't let anger control you."

"The more they try to provoke you, the calmer you must be."

"Treat every physical contact as a calculation. Calculate their center of gravity, calculate their intentions, calculate the referee's limit."

"Then, respond to them with a bucket, or an attack that makes them pay with a foul."

"That is the revenge that will make them suffer the most."

Lin Feng stood in place, carefully digesting every word Kobe said.

It was as if a whole new world had unfolded before his eyes.

At the other end of the gym, in a corner of the stands.

Yoona sat there quietly.

She came every day.

She didn't speak to anyone, nor did she disturb Lin Feng's training.

She just watched silently.

Watching him fall time and again on the court, and get back up time and again.

She didn't understand the complex tactics or the intense physical play.

But she could feel the increasingly powerful and dangerous aura emanating from him.

Whenever Lin Feng finished training and walked off the court with a weary body, she would always be the first to hand him the prepared water and towel.

She didn't need to say anything.

Her presence itself was a form of strength.

Like a constant coordinate.

Allowing Lin Feng to always find a sliver of inner peace amidst the frantic training and immense pressure.

She was the center of the storm, the only place of tranquility.

She was the final and sturdiest anchor on Lin Feng's path to hell... Two days later.

The entire Lakers team took a charter flight and arrived in San Antonio.

The victory in Game 3 had sent the team's morale soaring.

Confidence had returned to the faces of Howard and Gasol.

They began to believe that by following the young man before them, a miracle might truly not be impossible.

However, when they walked out of the airport, what greeted them was no longer the ignorance and indifference of the first two times.

Instead, it was the earth-shattering, hostile boos from the fans of the Texas city.

"Go home, fraud!"

"This is no place for your circus tricks!"

Countless signs were held high, featuring various caricatures mocking Lin Feng.

Camera flashes were like a barrage of bullets, firing madly at him.

Lin Feng stepped off the bus and walked through the malicious crowd under the escort of security personnel.

His face was devoid of expression.

Abnormally calm.

He knew that Popovich and the entire city under his rule had already laid out an inescapable net for him.

From inside the court to outside of it.

The night of Game 4.

AT&T Center.

When Lin Feng stepped onto the away floor wearing the Lakers' number 24 jersey.

He could clearly feel a thick murderous intent permeating the air.

Kobe's prophecy was about to come true.

A true battle from hell was about to begin.