121: A life on fire!

He completely lost consciousness.

The last scene before the world plunged into darkness was Howard's face, twisted between crying and laughing, and the figures of his teammates rushing towards him frantically.

"Lin!"

"Quick! Team Doctor! Where's the Team Doctor?!"

The ecstatic celebration came to an abrupt halt the moment they touched Lin Feng's body.

In its place were panicked shouts that pierced their eardrums.

Howard was the first to rush over. He wanted to help Lin Feng up from the floor, but Lin Feng's body was as soft as a puddle of mud, completely unresponsive.

His face was frighteningly pale.

His lips had no trace of color.

The rise and fall of his chest were so faint they were almost imperceptible.

"Don't move him!"

The Lakers' Team Doctor, Gary Vitti, rushed in with two assistants, roughly pushing aside the surrounding players.

Vitti knelt beside Lin Feng, his fingers quickly probing for his carotid artery.

His other hand pried open Lin Feng's eyelids.

Those eyes, which had just been shining with divine light, now had somewhat dilated pupils.

"Damn it!"

Vitti's face instantly became incredibly grim.

"Stretcher! Get a stretcher over here quickly!"

"Clear a path! We need to get him to the medical room immediately!"

Vitti's voice carried an unquestionable authority and urgency.

The Lakers players' ecstatic joy had long faded, leaving only bewilderment and worry.

Gasol stood at the edge of the crowd, watching Lin Feng lying motionless on the ground. The conductor who had just led them in a magnificent offensive symphony now looked like a broken puppet.

A huge, cold fear surged in his heart.

The entire AT&T Center was eerily quiet.

The Spurs fans were still standing in their seats.

They didn't leave.

They just silently watched everything unfolding in the center of the court.

The shock and unwillingness brought by the buzzer-beating game-winner had been diluted by this sudden scene.

Their expressions were complex.

There was schadenfreude, bewilderment, and even a hint of concern for a respectable opponent that they themselves hadn't noticed.

In front of the Spurs' bench.

Duncan lowered his head, propping himself up with his hands on his knees. No one knew what he was thinking.

Ginóbili slumped in his chair, covering his face with a towel.

And Kawhi Leonard still stood there like a stoneSculpture.

His gaze pierced through all the people, fixed intently on the number 24 figure lying on the ground.

In his mind, the scene from that last second replayed over and over again.

That incredible behind-the-back dribble.

That super long-range three-pointer shot while his body was completely off-balance and falling backward.

He couldn't understand it.

It had surpassed all his understanding of the sport of basketball.

That wasn't skill.

It was more like... a sacrifice that burned one's life.

At the commentary desk.

Charles Barkley and Kenny Smith remained silent for a long time.

On the monitor in front of them, slow-motion replays of the game-winning shot were playing repeatedly.

Each replay made their hearts clench once more.

"I've been commentating basketball for over twenty years."

Barkley's voice was a little hoarse.

"I've seen Jordan's 'The Shot,' Miller's 'Miller Time,' and Ray Allen's 'Shot of the Century.'"

"But... I've never seen a shot like this."

"With his physical strength exhausted and completely locked down by two defenders, he completed a full-court game-winner in an almost suicidal manner."

Kenny Smith took over, his voice also filled with awe.

"This is no longer about the outcome of a basketball game."

"What we are witnessing is the birth of a legend."

"But now, I only hope that the prelude to this legend does not end in tragedy."

His gaze turned to the figure being carefully lifted onto a stretcher by medical personnel.

"We see that Lin Feng has been secured on the stretcher."

"His condition looks very grim."

"What price did he pay for that shot?"

...In Lin Feng's apartment.

"Thump."

The phone in Yoona's hand slipped and fell onto the carpet with a dull thud.

She froze completely.

On the TV screen, that pale, bloodless face, that weak figure being carried away on a stretcher, pierced her heart like the sharpest needle.

They won?

A game-winner?

So what?

She didn't care!

She didn't care about anything!

She only saw that he had fallen.

He lay on that cold floor, like a lamp whose oil had run out, about to extinguish.

Tears, no longer restrainable, surged from her big eyes like a bursting dam.

She frantically picked up her phone, trembling, trying to dial Jeff's number.

But her fingers couldn't seem to press the familiar digits correctly.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

"Why... why is this happening...?"

The girl's crying sounded so helpless in the empty living room... New York, backstage lounge of the "Red" tour.

Taylor Swift was still standing in front of the TV.

On the screen, the cheering Lakers players and Lin Feng being carried away formed an incredibly jarring, contradictory image.

The light flickering in her beautiful blue eyes became even more complex.

She had indeed said that she liked to watch the performances of winners.

And Lin Feng had just staged what could be called the most magnificent and shocking display of individual heroism in history.

He won.

He won that bet.

As agreed, her next concert would be for him alone.

But now... that winner had paid a price far beyond her imagination.

That was no longer a performance.

That was a real war, with everything at stake.

She was used to turning love and men into inspiration for her songs, into notes and symbols.

She was also used to controlling everything.

But at this moment, she suddenly realized that the man on the screen, that Eastern boy lying on the stretcher, seemed to be slipping out of her control.

He made her feel another, more primal, more intense, and more dangerous emotion in a way she had never seen before.

That wasn't conquest.

It was... heartache... Hollywood, hilltop villa.

Scarlett Johansson put down her Red wine glass.

She leaned on the sofa, watching the man being slowly carried out of the stadium on a stretcher on the screen.

The curve of her lips had disappeared.

In its place was an indescribably solemn expression.

"Mr. Beast..."

She let out a soft breath.

"You... broke yourself."

She thought she was just a queen sitting at the highest point of the gladiatorial arena, enjoying the beasts' fight to the death.

She enjoyed the thrill brought by blood and violence.

But when the bravest beast, after tearing apart all its enemies, collapsed from exhaustion and was on the verge of death.

She found that she wasn't as happy as she had imagined.

This play seemed to have been a little too immersive.

So brilliant... it made her a bit flustered... Los Angeles.

In Kobe's private training gym.

He turned off the TV.

The huge screen plunged into darkness.

Kobe picked up his phone and dialed a number.

"It's me, Rob."

On the other end of the line was the Lakers' General Manager, Rob Pelinka.

"Kobe? Did you see that shot?! Oh my god! It was just..."

Pelinka's voice was full of excitement.

"I don't care about that shot."

Kobe cut him off directly, his voice cold as iron.

"I need to know Lin's condition now, immediately!"

"I want the top medical experts to go to San Antonio right now!"

"Use all the resources we can!"

"If he has any problems, Rob, you and I are both finished!"

After hanging up, Kobe stood motionless in the dark training gym.

In his mind, he saw flashes of himself falling to the floor when his Achilles tendon ruptured.

He knew that feeling.

That feeling of powerlessness, of his body betraying his will.

"Idiot..."

He cursed softly.

He didn't know if he was cursing Lin Feng or his past self... In the AT&T Center player tunnel.

The stretcher was quickly pushed towards the medical room.

The Lakers' accompanying staff were in a chaotic mess.

Gary Vitti ran alongside the stretcher, continuously checking Lin Feng's vital signs.

His brows were furrowed tightly.

"His heart rate is abnormal!"

Vitti growled at his assistant beside him.

"Too fast! And extremely irregular!"

"His body temperature is also rising abnormally!"

He lifted the towel covering Lin Feng, seeing that Lin Feng's skin was abnormally flushed.

"Damn it! Is it acute myocarditis or arrhythmia caused by overexertion?!"

"Prepare the defibrillator! And adrenaline!"

Every one of Vitti's commands made the surrounding atmosphere even more tense.

Jeff Austin also followed beside him, looking at Lin Feng, who was lying unconscious on the stretcher with his eyes tightly closed, sweating profusely from anxiety, but unable to utter a single word.

Just as the stretcher was about to be pushed through the medical room door.

Lin Feng, who had been unconscious, suddenly twitched his eyelids.

He seemed to have regained a faint trace of consciousness.

His lips moved with difficulty, emitting a barely audible, faint voice.

"Water..."