17: Break down psychological defenses

The basketball passed through the net.

That "swish" sound seemed to be infinitely amplified at this moment, clearly reaching the ears of everyone in the arena.

The entire Staples Center fell into a strange, deathly silence.

One second.

Two seconds.

Then, like a volcano that had accumulated to its peak, it erupted violently!

"Boom—!"

The terrifying wave of sound was no longer cheers, no longer shouts, but a collective roar mixed with shock, worship, and a sense of unreality!

"God! Oh my God!"

Announcer A ripped off his headset, stood up from his seat, and ran his hands through his hair, looking half-crazed.

"What am I seeing! What on earth am I seeing!"

"This isn't basketball! This isn't a basketball game!"

"This is a miracle! A one-man miracle!"

On the court, the Golden State Warriors players were all frozen in place.

The expressions on their faces were frozen in a uniform dullness.

"Beep—!"

The piercing sound of the buzzer rang out.

Mark Jackson had used his last timeout.

His face was pale, his lips trembling, as if he had just survived a shipwreck.

The Golden State Warriors players walked mechanically toward the bench like the walking dead.

Stephen Curry walked last.

He didn't look at anyone, walked straight to his seat, and sat down heavily.

Then, he grabbed a towel from nearby and abruptly threw it over his head.

No one could see his expression.

All they could see were his shoulders, resting on his knees, trembling uncontrollably.

His confidence, his pride, and his self-esteem as the greatest shooter of this era were completely shattered and ground into dust in the face of Lin Feng's moon-viewing three-pointer.

Mark Jackson stood before the players, tactical board in hand, but couldn't say a single word.

Tactics?

What tactics were there left to speak of?

He looked at his players.

Andre Iguodala stared blankly at the floor.

Klay Thompson held a bottle of Gatorade but forgot to unscrew the cap.

On David Lee's face, there was only bewilderment.

The spirits of these battle-hardened professional players had been completely destroyed.

Lin Feng's performance had exceeded their entire understanding of the sport of basketball.

That wasn't skill, wasn't tactics; it was a higher-dimensional power, something close to divine.

How can mortals fight against a god?

On the other side, the Lakers' bench was a completely different scene.

It was an ocean of jubilation.

Just as Lin Feng walked off the court, Steve Nash greeted him with a smile and handed him a bottle of water.

"Kid, you're really a madman tonight."

Nash's voice was full of appreciation and admiration.

Pau Gasol walked over and slapped Lin Feng heavily on the back with his fan-like hand.

"Lin, from now on, you are my god."

The Spaniard said with a serious face.

Even Nick Young, usually the most arrogant and eccentric, leaned in and proactively extended his fist.

"Great job, man."

Lin Feng bumped fists with him.

He knew that from this moment on, he had truly earned the respect of everyone on this team.

At the very back of the bench, the man who had been silent finally moved.

Kobe Bryant.

He watched the chaos on the court, the ecstasy of his teammates, and the despair of the opponents.

Finally, his gaze fell on the young man surrounded by the crowd.

He turned his head and spoke to the lead assistant coach, Phil Handy, in a calm but incredibly certain tone.

"This kid's heart is top-tier."

Phil Handy was stunned for a moment.

Having followed Kobe for so many years, he knew how proud this man was and what this evaluation meant.

Kobe had seen plenty of top-tier talent and top-tier skill.

But a top-tier "heart"—the kind of strong inner core that could shoulder all the pressure at the most critical moment and make the craziest, most confident choices—was the true mark that separated stars from superstars.

This was the highest praise Kobe could give.

The short timeout ended quickly.

The game resumed.

But everyone knew that the suspense of the game had completely vanished.

The remaining time was nothing more than garbage time.

Stephen Curry did not return to the court.

He just sat there at the end of the bench, head covered by a towel, like a statue isolated from the world.

Yet even so, his gaze still locked onto the figure of number 9 on the court through the gaps in the towel.

Mark Jackson put in all the substitutes, giving up resistance.

D'Antoni also symbolically let Lin Feng stay on the court for a bit longer.

Facing the Golden State Warriors's substitutes' lackluster defense, Lin Feng felt somewhat disinterested.

He received a pass from Nash at the top of the arc and tossed it up casually.

"Swish!"

The three-pointer went in.

In the next possession, he received the ball while running on the wing and threw it up by feel without even looking at the basket.

"Swish!"

It went in again.

His personal three-pointers for this game reached 12.

A new record, one worthy of being recorded in history.

"Substitution!"

D'Antoni finally waved his hand and subbed Lin Feng out.

He wanted this young man who had created a miracle to enjoy his moment of glory.

When the PA announcer called out Lin Feng's name...

Tens of thousands of spectators at the Staples Center stood up as one.

"MVP—!"

"MVP—!"

"MVP—!"

The synchronized chants, like a tsunami, swept through the entire arena.

This was a treatment that only the league's top superstars could enjoy.

Tonight, Lin Feng had achieved it.

He smiled and waved to the fans in the stands.

Then, he walked off the court, high-fiving and hugging every teammate who rushed up.

From Nash to Gasol, to Nick Young, and then to Sacre at the end of the bench.

Finally, he walked up to that man.

Kobe Bryant.

The clamor of the entire arena seemed to vanish at this moment.

Lin Feng stood before Kobe, looking into those eyes that were still as sharp as an eagle's.

Kobe looked at him too.

There was no smile on his face, no excessive expression.

He just watched, scrutinizing.

A few seconds later, he slowly nodded to Lin Feng.

A simple gesture.

Yet it was more powerful than any words.

The final buzzer of the game sounded.

118 to 95.

The Lakers celebrated a hearty victory at home.

On the electronic screen, Lin Feng's stats were displayed separately.

Playing 28 minutes in total, he racked up 36 points, 2 rebounds, and 3 assists.

And those 36 points all came from beyond the three-point line.

12 three-pointers.

A night significant enough to shake the entire league.

Lin Feng finished celebrating with his teammates and was about to turn back to the locker room.

A voice came from behind, calling out to him.

"Lin Feng."

The voice was a bit raspy, carrying a hint of exhaustion.

Lin Feng turned around.

He saw Stephen Curry standing at the entrance of the player tunnel, quietly looking at him.