122: A new generation of Spurs killer! Kobe's warning!

"Water..."

The voice was so faint it was almost impossible to catch.

But in the noisy and chaotic player tunnel, Jeff Austin, who had been staring fixedly at Lin Feng, heard it.

"Water! He wants water!"

Jeff shouted as if he were grasping at a life-saving straw.

Team Doctor Gary Vitti frowned but didn't stop him.

Being able to ask for water at least proved that his consciousness was returning.

A bottle of mineral water was handed over. Jeff unscrewed the cap and carefully brought the bottle to Lin Feng's parched lips.

The cool liquid moisturized his burning throat.

Lin Feng's eyelids fluttered even more intensely.

He struggled, trying to open his eyes.

A few minutes later, in the medical room that the San Antonio Spurs had urgently cleared, Lin Feng finally regained consciousness.

What met his eyes was Gary Vitti's serious face, filled with worry.

Also surrounding him were Howard, Gasol, and D'Antoni.

"What... happened to me?"

Lin Feng's voice was hoarse, sounding like sandpaper rubbing together.

"You kid almost played yourself to death!"

Howard's voice was the loudest, carrying an exaggerated sense of lingering fear.

"Acute dehydration, combined with temporary shock caused by excessive fatigue."

Vitti shone a flashlight into his pupils, his tone softening slightly.

"Your body has been squeezed dry."

"Every muscle and every organ is on the brink of collapse."

"Lin, that last shot of yours... you were playing with your life."

Lin Feng didn't speak.

He just rolled his eyes around, looking at the complex expressions on his teammates' faces—a mix of ecstasy and worry that hadn't yet fully faded.

He knew he had won... when the Los Angeles Lakers' private plane landed at Los Angeles International Airport.

They were greeted with a hero's welcome.

Thousands of fans wearing purple and gold jerseys packed the airport exit.

When Lin Feng, escorted by security personnel, was the first to walk out of the tunnel.

The deafening cheers of "MVP" almost blew the roof off the terminal.

Camera flashes were like countless stars lighting up the day.

The media's direction took a 180-degree turn.

The front-page headline of the Los Angeles Times used a title so large it was exaggerated.

【God wore number 24 and conquered San Antonio in 0.1 seconds!】

The expert commentary section of ESPN went even further, placing him directly on a pedestal.

"The Saint City Bane!"

"A new generation of Spurs Killer!"

"His heart is forged from thousand-year-old cold iron!"

The joy of victory was like mellow wine, plunging the entire city into a tipsy carnival.

This atmosphere of revelry also spread to the Los Angeles Lakers' training facility.

"Hey, Nick, what pose are you going to use to sink a three-pointer in the next game?"

Howard joked with Nick Young during practice.

"Standing on one leg and shooting with my eyes closed, of course."

Nick Young responded smugly.

"Anyway, Lin will draw all those guys away; it'll be so open in front of me I could throw a party."

The young players' faces all bore an unconcealable look of ease and pride.

The series was tied at two-all.

They had even stolen a victory from the San Antonio Spurs' home court, reclaiming home-court advantage.

The Pivotal Game 5 would be held at the Staples Center.

In their eyes, victory seemed to be already in the bag.

Because of this, the training atmosphere became a bit lax.

Only two people remained absolutely calm.

One of them was Kobe.

He hadn't come to the training facility, and no one knew what he was doing.

The other was Lin Feng.

He didn't participate in his teammates' horseplay.

He was alone in the team's video analysis room.

Watching the footage of Game 4 over and over again.

Especially that final game-winning shot.

With the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor activated, he conducted countless reviews of every detail of that shot.

That extreme behind-the-back dribble.

That gap, only five centimeters wide, that slipped past Leonard's heel.

That ultra-long-range three-pointer pushed out while completely off-balance.

The more he watched, the tighter his brow furrowed.

There was too much randomness.

The element of luck even outweighed skill.

Popovich's tactic—the open scheme of using two people to lock him down and force the other Los Angeles Lakers to score—hadn't truly been broken.

It had only been forcibly prolonged by him in a near-miraculous way.

Would he be so lucky in the next game?

Lin Feng turned off the video.

He walked toward the training court.

"Hey, Lin, come join us! We're playing a game to see who's the most accurate shooter!"

Nick Young waved at him.

Lin Feng shook his head.

He found the team's practice partner, the big man who had specifically tormented him before Game 4.

"Continue."

Lin Feng's voice was very calm.

"Use the intensity of Game 4—no, use an even higher intensity than Game 4 to come at me."

The practice partner was stunned.

The laughing teammates around them also went quiet.

"I need to get used to finding my shooting rhythm while every breath is interfered with and every run is met with a collision."

There was no flicker of emotion in Lin Feng's eyes.

His focus and composure were like a bucket of cold water poured over everyone's heads.

The lighthearted atmosphere in the training facility froze.

Pau Gasol looked at Lin Feng, a hint of approval and guilt showing in his eyes.

He was the first to stop his shooting practice and walked over to Lin Feng's side.

"Count me in."

Gasol said to the practice partner.

"The two of us will defend him together."

The team's preparation atmosphere became tense and solemn once again... training ended.

Lin Feng dragged his exhausted body back to his apartment.

He opened the door.

A familiar, faint fragrance wafted toward him.

The living room lights were on.

A graceful figure was busy in the kitchen.

It was Yoona.

She had come.

Immediately after Game 4 ended, she had boarded a flight to Los Angeles.

Hearing the door open, Yoona poked her head out from the kitchen.

Her face still bore a trace of haggardness from undried tears, but the moment she saw Lin Feng, all the light lit up in those beautiful large eyes.

"You're back."

Her voice carried a faint, imperceptible tremble.

Lin Feng stood at the door, looking at her.

Looking at this girl who had flown thousands of miles just for him.

The pressure, fatigue, and worry about the next game accumulated over the past few days seemed to find a harbor to rest in at this moment.

He walked over and gently hugged her from behind.

Yoona's body stiffened slightly, then completely relaxed, leaning into his embrace.

"I'm fine."

Lin Feng rested his chin on her shoulder and spoke softly.

"Mhm."

Yoona nodded, but her tears betrayingly flowed again.

That night.

They didn't do anything out of line.

Yoona made him a simple dinner.

Then, the two of them snuggled on the sofa and watched a very boring romance movie.

This was the most peaceful and warm time Lin Feng had enjoyed since coming to this world.

"Next game, I'll go to San Antonio with you."

When the movie was almost over, Yoona suddenly spoke.

Lin Feng was taken aback.

"I want to be there in person."

Yoona turned her head to look into his eyes, her gaze filled with unprecedented determination.

"I want to watch you with my own eyes."

Lin Feng looked at her and didn't refuse.

He nodded.

"Okay."

...The next day.

The entire Los Angeles Lakers team prepared to set out for San Antonio once again.

The night before departure.

Lin Feng received a phone call.

It was from Kobe.

"Come to my training facility."

Kobe's voice betrayed no emotion.

When Lin Feng arrived at Kobe's private training facility.

Kobe was sitting alone in the middle of the empty court.

A crutch lay beside him.

"Sit."

Kobe pointed to the floor beside him.

Lin Feng sat down as instructed.

"Do you know which opponent I've faced the most in the playoffs during my career?"

Kobe suddenly asked a question.

"The Spurs."

Lin Feng replied.

"That's right, the Spurs."

Kobe's gaze shifted to the distant hoop, as if he were reminiscing about something.

"I played seven series against them."

"Every time, it felt like a walk through hell."

"Every time, they pushed me to my limits."

"I've won, and I've lost."

"But I learned the most important thing from them."

Kobe turned his head, his gaze sharp as lightning, looking directly at Lin Feng.

His expression was serious to the extreme.

"Never underestimate the heart of a champion."

"Especially one belonging to a man named Gregg Popovich."

Lin Feng's heart sank.

"That shot in Game 4 was beautiful."

Kobe continued, though there wasn't a hint of praise in his tone.

"But that won't save you."

"The more silent he is now, the more lethal he will be in the next game."

"He will attack your strongest point in the most unexpected way."

"Namely, the shooting you take so much pride in."

Kobe's warning was like a red-hot brand, deeply etched into Lin Feng's heart.

Making him full of vigilance for the upcoming Game 5.