142: The final decision! Kobe's warning!

On the cold phone screen lay two diametrically opposed messages.

One was a soft concern.

The other was a fiery challenge.

Lin Feng leaned against the cold wall of the player tunnel. His adrenaline was rapidly receding, and the immense exhaustion brought by the [ZONE] mode pressed against every inch of his bones like the pressure of the deep sea.

He could feel his fingers, which were holding the phone, aching slightly.

He was waiting.

Waiting for that frantic fighting spirit, which had burned from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, to cool down slightly.

He needed to think.

But not about those two women.

Security personnel waited quietly not far away, cordoning off a small space that belonged only to him.

A few minutes later, Lin Feng put away his phone without replying to either message.

He straightened up and walked toward the locker room.

The moment he pushed open the locker room door...

The room, which had been as noisy as a nightclub, suddenly went silent for half a second.

Nick Young's exaggerated celebratory pose froze mid-air.

Dwight Howard's laughing face also sobered up a bit.

Everyone's eyes turned toward him in unison.

Those looks were complicated.

It was no longer the simple admiration for a powerful teammate from before.

There was something more in them.

There was awe, as if they were looking at a monster stepped out of a myth.

There was envy, a jealousy of his ability to ignite a media firestorm across America.

And, of course, a hint of worry.

They were all professional players; they knew all too well the consequences of being bogged down by off-court news.

Especially this kind of romantic scandal, which was enough to give any man a massive headache.

Lin Feng ignored these complex gazes and walked straight to his locker.

Just then, a hand rested on his shoulder.

It was Kobe.

In the locker room, he was the only one whose gaze lacked those impurities.

It was pure appreciation between warriors.

Kobe patted his shoulder and lowered his voice, speaking with a gravity that only Lin Feng could truly understand.

"Kid, don't get distracted by off-court matters."

"Remember, for us, the only thing that matters is G7."

Kobe's warning was like a precision key, instantly locking away the slight wavering that had just arisen in Lin Feng's heart.

Lin Feng nodded heavily.

"I understand."

He knew this better than anyone.

In the arena of love, there could be countless answers.

But on the basketball court, there was only one outcome.

Win, or lose everything... On the way back to the apartment, Lin Feng sat in the back row of the bus wearing headphones, isolating himself from the paparazzi's flashes outside the window and the chatter of his teammates.

His mind was a complete blank.

The aftereffects of the [ZONE] mode made him want nothing more than to throw himself into ice water and let his scorching body cool down completely.

The bus stopped in front of the apartment building.

Lin Feng stepped off and looked up at that familiar window.

The light was on.

He knew Yoona was there.

Waiting for him.

Perhaps she was preparing a celebratory midnight snack for him.

Or perhaps she was waiting, full of grievances, for an explanation, a hug.

Lin Feng stood downstairs for a long time.

Ultimately, he did not go up.

He turned and walked toward another apartment, his own.

He needed to be alone to calm down.

To recover his strength.

And more importantly, to think about that Game 7, the battle that would decide everything.

The apartment was pitch black.

Lin Feng didn't turn on the lights. He felt his way to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of ice water, and downed it in one go.

The icy liquid flowed down his throat and into his stomach.

The heat radiating from his bones was finally suppressed a little.

He threw himself onto the sofa, and the image of a white-haired old man surfaced in his mind.

Gregg Popovich.

Lin Feng knew that in G7, that cunning old man would definitely bring out an even crazier, more targeted defense.

The [Aomine ZONE] that had made him a god today—that kind of unexpected surprise attack—would only work once.

Next time, the San Antonio Spurs' cage would only tighten, and the defensive intensity would be even more suffocating.

He could no longer count on breaking through the opponent in the same way.

Lin Feng lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

His exhausted body wanted to fall asleep quickly.

But his mind was exceptionally clear.

In his mind, two distinct powers belonging to him surfaced uncontrollably.

One was a green, perfectly precise arc.

That was [Shintaro Midorimas Full-Court Three-Pointer].

It was the pinnacle of order.

An absolute, cold shooting percentage built upon thousands of repetitions.

This power reminded him of Yoona.

Her protection and her warmth were like the most stable foundation, allowing him to always find a reliable, final coordinate in the chaotic arena.

And the other power.

Was a violent wildness, flickering with black lightning.

That was [Aomine Daiki's Unrestricted Shot].

It was the pinnacle of rule-breaking.

A free, wild offense that followed physical instinct completely and defied all logic.

This power reminded him of Taylor.

Her passion, her initiative, and her boldness were like a flame, igniting the most primitive desire for destruction and conquest deep within him.

One was protection.

One was conquest.

These two powers corresponded to Yoona's warmth and Taylor's passion, respectively.

They were like ice and fire, distinct yet intertwined within his body.

Lin Feng suddenly had a thought that even he found crazy.

In G7, facing Popovich's precise war machine.

Relying on just one power might not be enough.

Whether it was ultimate order or ultimate destruction.

That old man might find a way to crack either one.

But... what if... what if these two seemingly contradictory powers were combined?

What would happen when ultimate precision met ultimate wildness?

This thought was like a bolt of lightning, splitting open his chaotic thoughts!

But following that was even deeper confusion.

How to combine them?

It was simply impossible!

One was a shooting machine requiring absolute calm and focus.

The other was a court beast that needed to completely unleash its wildness and follow instinct.

This required a catalyst.

A miraculous epiphany that could only be born under extreme pressure... The next day.

On the chartered flight to San Antonio.

The Lakers players had various expressions.

Some were excitedly discussing Game 7.

Some were whispering about the media storm involving Lin Feng, Taylor, and Yoona, which had already reached its peak online.

As for Lin Feng, he just sat quietly in the window seat.

He didn't look at his phone, nor did he listen to music.

He just kept his eyes closed, immersing his entire mind in thoughts about the game.

He hadn't contacted either of the two divas.

Because he had already made his decision.

The answers those reporters wanted.

The ending that audiences around the world wanted to see.

All questions had only one outlet.

Lin Feng knew that victory on the court was the only key to solving everything.