226: Chapter 226 Regaining Fighting Spirit

The busy signal continued on the other end of the line. Lin Feng slowly lowered his phone. He stood there, motionless. The night wind in Miami was hot and humid as it blew against him, but he felt no discomfort.

Various thoughts collided in his mind. The bet, the spoils of war, winning it all or losing everything.

He thought of those three women. Had they really thought this through? Using themselves as stakes in a bet?

A surge of anger rose in Lin Feng's heart. Why push such immense pressure onto him? If he lost the game, would he lose them too? It made no sense.

The waves crashed against the beach with a constant roar. Lin Feng's breathing was rapid. He felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

He even thought, for a moment, that he didn't want this championship anymore. He didn't want them either.

That thought only lasted a second. He suppressed it ruthlessly.

He thought of Kobe, the man who insisted on shooting free throws even with a ruptured Achilles. He thought of Nash, the veteran who was burning the final years of his career for a championship.

He thought of Howard and Gasol. They were fighting to the death in the paint for the sake of victory.

Lin Feng could not back down. There was no path for retreat.

Could he really win?

The crushing defeat of Game 6 played in his head like a movie. James's drives, Wade's footwork, the Miami Heat's suffocating defense. And that boiling, hell-like Miami home court.

What he had felt before was a dejection devoid of hope. Now, those three women had added three heavy mountains on top of that dejection.

How to win? With what could he win?

Lin Feng slowly crouched down, clutching his head with both hands. He felt like his head was going to explode.

Time passed. The night grew deeper. The sea breeze grew colder.

After an unknown amount of time, a glimmer of light appeared on the distant sea surface.

The sky was brightening. A golden ray of light pierced through the clouds, breaking the darkness.

The sun rose.

The warm sunlight shone on Lin Feng, chasing away the chill from his body and bringing clarity to his heart.

He slowly raised his head to look at the morning sun leaping out from the sea. His eyes stung slightly from the light, but at this moment, his mind was exceptionally clear.

He understood now.

Pressure? No, that wasn't pressure.

That was trust. It was the greatest, craziest, and most unreserved trust placed in him by three women standing at the top of the world.

Why did they dare to make such a bet? Because they believed. They believed from the bottom of their hearts that he, Lin Feng, would surely win!

They weren't creating pressure for him. They were using the most direct way to give him the greatest motivation!

They were telling him: Go win! At any cost! Leave no way out!

Win that damn trophy, and then come back to claim your spoils!

Lin Feng slowly stood up. He brushed the sand off his clothes. The confusion, dejection, and exhaustion on his face had all vanished.

A calmness like never before replaced them. Like the stillness deep in the ocean before a storm.

He was going to win. Not just for the honor of the championship. Not just for Kobe's dream.

But more so, to not fail everything heavy and burning that those three women had placed upon him!

The call had been disconnected. Lin Feng put his phone away.

He called the team coordinator directly.

"Help me book the earliest flight back to Los Angeles."

"Now. Immediately. Right away."

His voice was calm, carrying an indisputable power.

"I don't want to stay in Miami for even one more second."

He wanted to leave this place, return to his home court, and find his own strength.

...

The next morning, in the restaurant of the hotel where the Los Angeles Lakers were staying.

The atmosphere was as heavy as stagnant water. The players ate their breakfast in silence; no one spoke.

The crushing defeat of Game 6 hung over everyone's head like a large dark cloud.

"Guys, cheer up!" Howard tried to lighten the mood, but the smile on his face looked worse than crying.

Nash shook his head, said nothing, and looked down to cut his fried egg.

Everyone understood what Game 7, two days from now, would mean.

It was a battle destined to go down in history.

And they were the underdogs.

Just then, someone appeared at the restaurant entrance.

It was Lin Feng.

Everyone looked at him. They expected to see a face just like theirs—exhausted and worried.

After all, Lin Feng was the one most heavily targeted in Game 6.

What they saw was a calm, even indifferent face.

Lin Feng's gaze was clear. The gloom brought about by the crushing defeat was gone.

It was as if yesterday's collapse had never happened.

"Morning." Lin Feng nodded to everyone, then walked to the buffet and picked up a tray.

Everyone was stunned. What was going on?

Was this guy heartless, or had he been driven mad by the blow?

Only one person saw that something was different.

Kobe.

He sat in the corner, slowly sipping his coffee. He watched Lin Feng's back, watching him calmly select his food.

A hint of relief, even a touch of approval, appeared on Kobe's face.

He knew that over the course of this single night...

...this young man had completed his final and most important transformation.

He no longer needed comfort or encouragement.

He now possessed the heart of a true champion.

A powerful heart that could remain unchanged even in the face of immense pressure.

Lin Feng carried his tray over to Kobe and sat down opposite him.

"Sleep well?" Kobe put down his coffee cup and asked casually.

"Not bad." Lin Feng picked up a piece of toast and took a bite, answering just as casually.

Not another word was spoken between the two.

But they both understood everything from each other's gaze.

They both knew what they would have to face in two days.

And they both knew what they were going to do.

...

After the Los Angeles Lakers returned to Los Angeles, they didn't choose to rest. They went straight to the training facility.

Despite the Game 6 defeat, the Lakers players, now back at home, carried some resentment on their faces. But the feeling Lin Feng gave them was completely different.

He walked at the front, his posture upright. His steps were steady, showing none of the dejection from the Game 6 loss.

"Lin, you... you seem a bit different." Howard leaned in and whispered.

Lin Feng turned his head and smiled at him. "Is that so?"

This smile carried an indescribable confidence. It wasn't arrogant, just calm.

"It feels like you've completely forgotten the loss in Game 6." Nash also walked over.

Lin Feng shook his head. "I haven't forgotten. But I know how to win it back."

His words were few, but they slowly settled his teammates' hearts.

In the training facility, the atmosphere was serious. D'Antoni gathered everyone together.

"We lost Game 6. We lost completely. But the series isn't over!" D'Antoni said.

The players looked down, many with regret on their faces.

Kobe sat next to Lin Feng. His knee was still swollen, but he had come anyway. He sat there like a temporary assistant coach.

D'Antoni turned on the projector, and the game film from Game 6 began to play on the screen.

In the footage, the Miami Heat's transitions were lightning-fast. James's drives, Wade's cuts, and Ray Allen's three-pointers were as precise as a machine.

"Do you see clearly?" D'Antoni pointed at the screen. "This wasn't just one person's performance. This was the entire Miami Heat; every single one of them played their part!"

The footage skipped to the Los Angeles Lakers' offensive possessions. Lin Feng was tightly smothered by Wade and Battier, making every catch difficult. Even when he forced a shot, it mostly resulted in a miss.

Kobe took over the conversation. His voice was raspy but powerful.

"The King is strong. But in the end, he is just one man."

"When his teammates all become weapons, the power of a single individual is limited."

He turned to Lin Feng.

"You must make your teammates become weapons as well."

Lin Feng listened to Kobe's words and nodded solemnly. He understood very well.

The loss in Game 6 had taught him a lesson.

No matter how strong a scoring machine is, they can be trapped when facing a team that is firing on all cylinders.

Even if he scored more points alone, he couldn't fight five opponents who were all playing at their peak.

His Heavenly Emperors Eye · ZONE wasn't just for predicting opponents' moves or boosting his own abilities.

It also had to be used to stimulate his teammates' potential.

To command his teammates and make them stronger too.

"Today, we aren't practicing tactics." Lin Feng suddenly spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it silenced everyone.

He stood up, walked to the tactical board, and picked up a marker.

"Dwight, come here." He pointed at Howard.

Howard was startled for a moment but walked over anyway.

"Your footwork in the paint and your offensive choices... sometimes you're too hesitant," Lin Feng said.

Howard felt a bit embarrassed.

Lin Feng's Eye of the Heavenly Emperor was already active. He saw all of Howard's habitual movements in the paint, as well as the hesitation hidden in his subconscious.

With the marker, he drew several lines on the tactical board.

"Here, here, and here." Lin Feng pointed at several spots. "When you get the ball and the opponent is in this defensive position, your first choice shouldn't be a power move, but this... or this..."

He personally demonstrated several types of post turns and hook shots. His movements weren't as powerful as Howard's, but the angles and rhythm were perfectly captured.

Howard watched, stunned. He suddenly realized that the details Lin Feng was pointing out were things the coaching staff repeatedly emphasized in practice but he could never quite master.

"Try this again. You catch the ball, and Haslem will defend you," Lin Feng arranged.

Howard held the ball, facing an assistant coach who was simulating Haslem's defense.

Lin Feng instructed from the side.

"Toes out a bit more. Lower your center of gravity. Look, Haslem's left shoulder—his defensive habit is to apply force from this side first..."

Lin Feng's guidance was precise down to every minute muscle exertion.

Howard did as Lin Feng said. Sure enough, every time he was able to find a more comfortable shooting space.

"This... this is amazing!" Howard was excited.

Lin Feng then called Gasol over.

"Pau, your mid-range shot is very accurate. But in Game 6, when you were shooting, your body's center of gravity was off on a few shots."

He had Gasol repeatedly practice mid-range jumpers. Each time, Lin Feng would point out his issues.

"Snap your wrist a bit more. Keep your elbows tucked in. Eyes on the front of the rim."

Gasol found that under Lin Feng's guidance, his shooting touch became better and better, and his accuracy significantly improved.

"It's a feeling. The moment you release the shot, you can sense the defender's movement," Lin Feng explained.

In reality, that was the power of the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor. It could simulate all possible movements of the defender and find the optimal timing and angle for the shot. But he couldn't just say that out loud.

Next was Nick Young.

"Nick, your off-ball movement is great. But when you catch and shoot, your rhythm is sometimes half a beat slow," Lin Feng said.

He had Nick Young repeatedly run off-ball patterns to simulate catch-and-shoot threes.

"While you're moving, you need to anticipate where the ball will be passed from. Your body needs to adjust its posture in advance. The moment you catch it, shoot immediately."

Under Lin Feng's guidance, Nick Young's off-ball movement and catch-and-shoot became much smoother, like flowing water.

Lin Feng deliberately controlled the consumption of Heavenly Emperors Eye · ZONE. He didn't want his teammates to rely entirely on his "pseudo-ZONE." He hoped they would truly improve their skills through these detailed adjustments.

"This is about mastering the details," Lin Feng told everyone. "The opponent's defense is very cohesive. What we need to do is execute every detail to the best of our ability and then break them down as a unit."

Under Lin Feng's lead, the Lakers players experienced this level of meticulous training for the first time.

They were no longer fighting individual battles. Everyone found ways to improve themselves under Lin Feng's guidance.

In the training facility, sweat continued to fall. But every face carried an unprecedented level of focus.

They knew this was their last chance to make history.

...

The local Miami media remained full of confidence in the Heat.

On the television screen, the host was gesturing wildly.

"The victory in Game 6 completely proved the Miami Heat's strength! LeBron refuses to hand over the crown!"

"Game 7 will be an easy win on our home court!"

All the experts were predicting that the Heat would win by a large margin.

The Los Angeles Lakers seemed to have already been forgotten by them.

...

Lin Feng stood by the window of his hotel room. Outside, the night was deep.

He knew that Game 7 was not just a competition of skill and physicality.

It was the ultimate contest of will and wisdom.