222: Chapter 222 The Emperor's Revenge

During the timeout, the Lakers' bench was deathly silent.

The players gasped for breath, their faces covered in sweat and confusion.

"Snap out of it, all of you!"

D'Antoni's roar seemed somewhat powerless in the noisy arena.

"What are we doing? Taking a stroll?"

"This is the NBA Finals! Game 6! If we lose, we go home to fish!"

He pointed at the tactics board, his finger white from pressing so hard.

"Defense! Show me your defense!"

"Stick to them! Don't let them shoot easily!"

Lin Feng didn't speak.

He lowered his head, looking at his sweat-soaked jersey.

In the past few possessions, he felt like he had fallen into a quagmire.

Wade clung to him like a mad dog.

Battier used all sorts of small tricks to wear him down.

As soon as he had the ball, white jerseys would swarm him like a tide.

Suffocation.

An unprecedented sense of suffocation.

Kobe sat beside him, the ice pack on his knee emitting cold air.

"Steady, Lin."

His voice was calm.

"Their momentum is strong, don't try to go head-to-head with them."

"Find your rhythm."

Lin Feng nodded.

The timeout ended, and the game resumed.

Lakers' offense.

Nash dribbled past half-court, cautiously observing the situation on the court.

He wanted to pass the ball to Lin Feng.

But Wade and Battier's shadows constantly followed Lin Feng.

The passing lanes were completely sealed off.

Nash could only helplessly pass the ball to Gasol.

Gasol received the ball at the free-throw line, and before he could make a move, Bosh stuck to him.

The two of them were squeezed together.

Gasol turned with difficulty and shot a fadeaway jumper.

"Clang!"

The basketball hit the rim.

Under the basket, Howard and Haslem were wrestling for position.

In the end, it was James!

He charged in from the perimeter like a wild bull, leaping high and fiercely snatching the rebound!

Then, without even looking, he threw a long pass!

The basketball flew across the entire court like a cannonball!

At the other end, Ray Allen had already run to the corner.

Catch, shoot.

The motion was fluid and seamless, like a textbook example.

"Swish!"

Three-pointer!

18:2!

The lead was further extended!

The entire American Airlines Center completely erupted into a volcano!

"It's over, it's all over."

At the commentary table, Barkley held his bald head, his face full of despair.

"The Lakers are stunned, they're completely lost."

"This isn't basketball, this is a one-sided slaughter."

Kenny Smith shook his head.

"The Miami Heat are in incredible form. James, Wade, Bosh, each of them seems to be on a cheat code."

The situation on the court was exactly as he described.

James no longer relentlessly attacked like in Game 5.

He transformed into the commander on the court.

He used his unstoppable drives to draw the Lakers' defense.

Then, with surgical precision passes, he found open teammates.

Wade, on the other hand, seemed to have returned to 2006.

The omnipotent "Flash" was back!

Again and again, he tore through the Lakers' defense with his signature

Sometimes a Euro step layup, sometimes a pull-up jumper.

His offense was dazzling and deadly.

The Lakers simply couldn't defend him.

Chris Bosh also shook off his previous slump.

He was getting whatever he wanted from mid-range.

His soft touch rendered Howard and Gasol's defense useless.

Even more terrifying were the Miami Heat's role players.

Ray Allen and Battier were like two sniper cannons hidden in the dark.

As soon as the Lakers' defense showed the slightest crack.

James's pass would immediately arrive.

Then, it was a swift strike.

Three-pointers rained down into the Lakers' basket.

The Lakers were completely in disarray.

Under the roaring home crowd's momentum.

Under the opponent's rabid defensive pressure.

Their tactics, their coordination, all turned into a tangled mess.

Turnovers.

Missed shots.

More turnovers.

Lin Feng, moreover, was in an unprecedented predicament.

He was completely locked down.

James and Battier, like two iron clamps, took turns guarding him.

Not letting him comfortably receive the ball.

Not giving him an inch of shooting space.

He tried to force a breakthrough.

But as soon as he started, the Miami Heat's interior players, Bosh or Haslem, would immediately come over to double-team.

Forming an airtight encirclement.

Pass?

All passing lanes were also cut off.

The Miami Heat used their perfect defensive rotations to force Lin Feng to choose only the most difficult shots.

"Clang!"

Lin Feng, under a double-team, forced a fadeaway jumper, which missed.

"Clang!"

Lin Feng used a screen to get open, shot from a step beyond the three-point line, and clanked it again.

He was playing extremely uncomfortably.

Sweat dripped continuously down his cheeks.

His chest heaved violently.

His stamina was rapidly depleting.

But he hadn't scored a single point.

With two minutes left in the first quarter.

On the Lakers' bench.

Kobe removed the ice pack from his knee.

He stood up and walked to D'Antoni's side.

"Coach, put me in."

His voice was hoarse, but filled with an undeniable resolve.

D'Antoni looked at Kobe's still swollen knee, his face filled with hesitation.

"Kobe, your leg..."

"I can still play."

Kobe interrupted him.

He looked at the struggling young figure on the court.

He had to go in and relieve the pressure on Lin Feng.

Even if it meant gambling with his own career.

Timeout.

Substitution.

Kobe, dragging an injured leg, stepped back onto the battlefield where he had fought his entire life.

The boos at the American Airlines Center reached their peak at this moment.

But Kobe was deaf to them.

In his world, there was only the basket left.

Lakers' offense.

Kobe called for the ball in the low post.

He had his back to Battier, who was defending him.

One push, two pushes.

He used his shoulder to bump his opponent, then executed an incredibly familiar fadeaway turnaround.

His movements were no longer light.

They were even a bit slow and stiff.

But that ingrained sense of rhythm was still there.

Fadeaway jumper.

The basketball traced a beautiful arc through the air.

"Swish!"

Swish through the net!

At the team's most critical moment.

That man, in his most iconic way, broke the Lakers' scoring drought.

After the shot, Kobe's face was devoid of expression.

He just ran back silently.

But only he knew.

With that last jump, a piercing pain shot through his knee.

The anesthetic was almost wearing off.

Miami Heat offense.

James dribbled the ball, facing Kobe's defense.

He showed no mercy.

With an acceleration, he forced a breakthrough!

Kobe moved sideways, trying to keep up.

But his leg simply wouldn't obey!

He watched helplessly as James flashed past him.

Then, he easily scored a layup.

The huge gap between offense and defense was fully revealed.

Kobe was truly old.

He really couldn't jump anymore.

The first quarter ended.

The score on the screen was so glaring.

35:16.

The Lakers were trailing by a full 19 points!

Between quarters.

The Team Doctor rushed over to check Kobe's knee.

"You can't play anymore, Kobe! If you keep playing, your leg will truly be ruined!"

The Team Doctor's voice carried a hint of pleading.

Kobe was silent.

He looked at his uncooperative knee, and a deep sense of powerlessness flashed in his eyes.

Finally, he nodded.

The second quarter began.

Kobe did not return to the court.

And the situation on the court became even more one-sided.

The Miami Heat's offense was like a tide, wave after wave.

The Lakers' defense, like a sandcastle on the beach, was battered to pieces.

The lead was quickly extended.

20 points!

25 points!

30 points!

The halftime whistle blew.

The score was fixed at 65:38.

The Lakers were trailing by a full 27 points!

The entire Staples Center had turned into a sea of joy.

Miami fans began to celebrate victory early.

The Lakers' players, however, walked back to the locker room dejectedly, like defeated roosters.

Despair.

A thorough and utter despair enveloped everyone's hearts.

They were broken.

Completely overwhelmed by the Miami Heat's collective offense, with no power to fight back.