196: Chapter 196 Miami's White Heatwave

Two days later.

The Lakers' private plane landed at Miami International Airport.

The moment they stepped out of the cabin door, a wave of humid, hot air rushed at them.

Accompanying this air was Miami's basketball fever, which felt as if it were about to consume everyone.

Outside the airport.

Both sides of the road were covered with massive promotional posters.

The background of the posters was pure white.

LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Chris Bosh.

The Big Three, dressed in white "Noche Latina" special edition jerseys, looked on with disdainful gazes and overbearing momentum.

At the very top of the posters, a bold slogan was written in bright red font.

"White Hot!"

This was the traditional theme for the Miami Heat's playoffs.

They wanted to use pure white to turn the entire American Airlines Arena into a white hell that would suffocate all opponents.

The team bus slowly drove toward the hotel.

The sights along the way made even these Lakers veterans, who had weathered many storms, feel a hint of oppression.

Almost every building was hung with Miami Heat flags.

Models of the Big Three were displayed in shop windows.

Even the headlines at the roadside newsstands were all about the upcoming NBA Finals.

《The Place Where Miracles End!》

《Welcome to LeBron's Empire!》

《4-0? Or 4-1? ESPN Expert Panel Unanimously Favors the Heat for the Title Defense!》

Nash picked up a newspaper and looked at the glaring headline, his brow furrowed.

"These guys really aren't being polite at all."

Pau Gasol shook his head with a bitter smile.

"We should have expected this."

"This is Miami, the territory of the defending champions."

"They have the right to strike such a pose."

The entire world seemed to be looking down on them.

The odds set by major betting companies showed the Miami Heat with an overwhelming advantage.

The ESPN expert panel even gave predictions of 4-1 or even a 4-0 sweep.

Everyone believed that the Black Eight Miracle created by Lin Feng and his Lakers would come to a full stop here.

...

Meanwhile.

The Miami Heat's training facility was opened to the media for fifteen minutes.

The Big Three—James, Wade, and Bosh—were conducting a relaxed shooting drill.

Not a hint of tension before the big battle could be seen on their faces.

All that was there was the relaxation and confidence of defending champions.

A reporter from ESPN handed the microphone to James.

"LeBron, what do you think of your opponent, Lin Feng?"

"Many people are calling him the greatest scorer of this era."

James casually tossed the ball into the hoop.

He took a towel and wiped his sweat, a kingly smile on his face.

"He's had a great season."

"Without a doubt, he's a very talented young man."

"I respect everything he has achieved."

His words sounded like praise.

But between the lines, what leaked out was a senior's scrutiny and judgment of a junior.

It felt like a high-and-mighty emperor evaluating a young general who had just begun to make a name for himself.

...

At the hotel where the Lakers were staying.

The atmosphere seemed somewhat heavy.

Kobe gathered everyone in the tactical meeting room.

He stood before the tactical board, his expression more serious than ever before.

"Put away all your contempt and wishful thinking."

Kobe's voice echoed in the quiet room.

"We are about to face the strongest team in this league, bar none."

He picked up a tactical pen and drew the Heat's defensive formation on the board.

"Their defensive rotation speed is hellish."

"Their frontcourt's athletic ability is enough to lock down any perimeter scorer in the league."

"Most importantly, they have LeBron."

Kobe's pen heavily circled James's name.

"He can play from the one to the five."

"He can tear your defense apart with his passing."

"He can also crush your interior with a bulldozer-like drive."

"This will be a war far more difficult and brutal than the one against the Thunder."

"Are you all ready?"

A shadow fell over everyone's hearts.

Lin Feng stayed in his room alone.

He didn't participate in the tactical meeting.

Because Kobe had given him only one task.

And that was to destroy everything the Heat had with his offense.

The television in the room was playing the footage of James's interview.

Lin Feng looked at the high-spirited man on the screen.

His gaze was as calm as water.

He knew.

All words were hollow.

All doubts, all contempt.

In the end, they must all be answered in the most primitive way on that ninety-four-foot long, fifty-foot wide court.

...

The night of Game 1.

American Airlines Arena.

Every seat was occupied.

Nearly twenty thousand fans responded to the team's call and all wore white T-shirts.

Looking out across the stands.

The entire arena seemed to have turned into a white ocean.

When the Lakers players walked out of the player tunnel.

They were greeted by deafening boos.

The sound was as if it would blow the roof off the arena.

Before the game started.

The stadium DJ used all his strength to roar that name.

"King—James!"

Amidst the mountain-shaking, sea-tsunami-like cheers of "MVP" from the crowd.

LeBron James walked to the scorer's table.

He grabbed a handful of chalk and tossed it into the air.

The white powder scattered and flew in all directions.

Under the spotlight, it looked like a grand coronation ceremony.

He spread his arms and tilted his head back.

Enjoying the worship from his subjects.

At this moment, he was the Emperor of this city.

The camera cut to the other end of the court.

Lin Feng was just silently dribbling the ball.

He felt the ball bouncing at his fingertips.

He felt the solid floor beneath his feet.

There wasn't a hint of fear in his eyes.

Nor was there a hint of retreat.

There was only an infinite fighting spirit, about to ignite like a volcano before an eruption.

The referee threw the ball high into the air.

The game officially began!

The Heat won the first possession.

James didn't attack himself.

He passed the ball to Wade beside him.

The Flash blew past the Lakers' defender in one step and scored with an easy layup.

2-0.

Everyone knew.

This was just the prelude to the Emperor's warm-up.