20: Black Mamba's Private Lessons

In the video analysis room, the faint blue light from the screen stretched Kobe and Lin Feng's shadows very long.

Those ignored passing options, those opportunities to score more easily—under Kobe's repeated playback, they were like thorns pricking Lin Feng's eyes.

Finally, Kobe reached out and pressed the off button.

With a "snap," the screen plunged into darkness.

The entire room followed, sinking into a pitch-black silence.

Kobe turned around; in the darkness, his silhouette was like a silent statue.

He didn't speak, but that invisible pressure was infinitely magnified in the dark, enveloping Lin Feng.

Lin Feng could hear his own slightly rapid breathing.

He had made twelve three-pointers tonight, breaking the record, conquering the audience, and even impressing his opponent, Curry.

But in front of the man before him, all his achievements seemed pale and weak.

"In the NBA, if you are only a cannon, the opponent has a hundred ways to make you go silent."

Kobe finally spoke, his voice exceptionally clear and cold in the darkness.

Lin Feng stood straight, like a recruit waiting for a lecture.

Kobe didn't turn on the light; he seemed to enjoy the feeling of dissecting problems in the dark.

"Your touch was hot tonight, hot enough to melt steel."

"But touch is the most unreliable thing in the world; it comes, and it goes just as easily."

"High-intensity physical contact, endless double-teams, draining your stamina, cutting off your receiving lanes."

Kobe's voice was steady, every word like a bullet accurately fired at Lin Feng's perception.

"What you encountered tonight was just the simplest form of defense."

"Mark Jackson just had Thompson and Andre Iguodala take turns following you, with the occasional double-team."

"Believe it or not, if this were Game 7 of the playoffs, they would use two or even three people to smother you the moment you crossed half-court."

"They would use every dirty trick—pushing, squeezing, bumping—to make every catch feel like a war."

"They would cut off all passing lanes between you, Nash, and Gasol."

"Making it so you won't even be able to touch the ball for the entire forty-eight minutes of the game."

Kobe's description caused a layer of cold sweat to break out on Lin Feng's back.

He could imagine that scene.

It was a meat grinder on the basketball court, a competition of pure willpower.

Whereas tonight, he had just stood on the perimeter, easily catching and shooting.

"When your three-pointers aren't falling, what else can you bring to the team?"

Kobe's voice suddenly rose, like a sharp knife stabbing into the heart of the matter.

"Is it victory?"

Those last three words, asked softly and slowly, produced an echo in the silent room.

Is it victory?

Is it victory?

Lin Feng fell silent.

He opened his mouth but couldn't say a single word.

Kobe's words hit the deepest hidden worry in his heart.

Yes, he had [Shintaro Midorimas Full-Court Three-Pointer], which made him a terrifying scoring threat.

But it was also almost his only weapon.

Tonight, he had used this single weapon to create a miracle.

But what if this weapon failed?

What if the opponent really used the suffocating defense Kobe described, leaving him with no chance to even shoot?

What if he missed five or six three-pointers in a row and his touch went cold?

What else could he do?

Could he end a game with an unstoppable fadeaway jumper like Kobe?

Could he tear through a defense with surgical passes like Nash?

Could he punish opponents in the low post with footwork and technique like Gasol?

No.

He couldn't do any of it.

When the heavy cannon of the three-pointer was silenced, his contribution to the team would trend toward zero.

He would even become a liability on defense, a negative asset to the team.

Thinking of this, fine beads of sweat appeared on Lin Feng's forehead.

For the first time, he clearly realized that the [charm basketball system] gave him a shortcut to power, but not the entirety of victory.

His victory tonight was less a reflection of strength and more of a magnificent, insanely hot-handed accident.

In the darkness, Kobe seemed able to see through all the thoughts in Lin Feng's mind.

He could feel the feverish joy on the young man quickly fading, replaced by a sober, profound self-examination.

This was exactly what he wanted to see.

Kobe's tone softened slightly without him realizing it.

It was no longer an aggressive interrogation, but held a hint of instruction.

"Your talent is the most elite I've ever seen."

Kobe gave an extremely high evaluation.

"But talent needs to be polished to become a weapon."

"A hammer is powerful, but it can only be used to hit nails. When you encounter a screw, it's useless."

"You must become a Swiss Army knife, not a hammer."

A Swiss Army knife.

This metaphor made Lin Feng's eyes light up in the dark.

"You need to have drives, mid-range shots, post-ups, and passing."

Kobe's voice was like that of an experienced craftsman instructing an apprentice on how to polish a piece of uncut jade.

"When an opponent plays you tight to stop your shot, you need to be able to blow past him with your first step and drive into the paint to cause damage."

"When an opponent is wary of your drive and gives you space, you need to be able to punish him with a stable mid-range jumper."

"When you have a mismatch in the low post against a smaller guard, you need to be able to use post-up techniques to score over him easily."

"When you draw a double or even triple-team, you need to be able to find that open teammate immediately so they can finish the easiest play."

"You need to keep the opponent from guessing what you'll do next."

"That is a true threat."

Every word Kobe said opened a new door for Lin Feng.

Lin Feng's breathing became a bit rapid.

No longer out of nervousness, but excitement.

A thirst for a higher level of basketball wisdom and an urge to become stronger burned in his chest.

He looked up; although he couldn't see Kobe's face clearly in the dark, his eyes were full of a hunger for knowledge.

Like a dry sponge, he greedily absorbed every word Kobe spoke.

Kobe felt the change in Lin Feng's aura.

He knew the kid had listened.

And he had listened completely.

In the unseen darkness, the corner of Kobe's mouth curled up ever so slightly.

He didn't want a scoring machine that only knew how to follow orders and fire away from the perimeter.

He wanted a warrior who could understand the game, play with his brain, and fight alongside him to carry this team together.

Lin Feng, you have this potential.

Silence fell over the room again.

But this time, the atmosphere was no longer oppressive.

It was the tranquility before the passing of knowledge.

After a long while, Kobe turned and walked toward the door.

His hand rested on the light switch.

"Click."

Blinding light instantly filled the room, and Lin Feng instinctively squinted his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, Kobe was already at the door with his back to him.

"See you at the practice facility at 6 AM tomorrow."

Kobe dropped those words and walked out without looking back.

The door closed gently, leaving Lin Feng alone in the room.

Lin Feng stood there, dazed for a few seconds.

He knew this wasn't a punishment, but an invitation.

An invitation for private tutoring from the black mamba.

This was the signal that Kobe truly recognized him and was ready to start giving him private lessons.