5: The first goal stunned the entire stadium!

The moment Lin Feng stepped onto the court, the mockery in the air almost solidified into something tangible.

The players from Team A exchanged glances, the contempt on their faces unconcealed.

"Look, our savior has arrived."

Nick Young leaned against Earl Clark and spoke lazily, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for everyone on the court to hear.

"Maybe he'll kill the opponents with his eyes."

A burst of laughter erupted.

Jordan Farmar, who was guarding him, was even more direct. He made a "please" gesture toward Lin Feng, a playful smirk hanging on the corner of his mouth.

That expression seemed to say: Come on, let me see what a guy who got cut like you can actually do.

The teammates on Team B had looks of utter despair.

Subbing in a guy even weaker than Blake—how were they supposed to play?

This was completely giving up on any hope of recovery.

On the sidelines, D'Antoni stood with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He was ready to stop this farce at any moment.

The game resumed.

Baseline ball for Team B.

The player inboundng the ball looked at the court with a blank expression.

Team A's defensive pressure was intense; he couldn't find anyone to pass to.

"Over here!"

A cool, calm voice rang out.

It was Lin Feng.

He was standing near the midcourt line, with no one within two meters of him.

Farmar didn't take him seriously at all, merely standing symbolically inside the three-point line, letting him catch the ball.

The teammate inbounding the ball hesitated for a moment but eventually passed it over.

It was a soft bounce pass, delivered with a hint of reluctance.

The ball reached Lin Feng's hands.

His catching posture was very stable, his fingers fitting perfectly against the basketball.

Everyone thought he would do what he usually did: cautiously dribble the ball across half-court and then hand it off to the only forward on the team with any offensive capability for an isolation play.

Farmar yawned, preparing to turn up the intensity once he dribbled over.

Nick Young had even turned his head, starting to discuss with a teammate which nightclub they should go to after the game.

However.

Lin Feng didn't dribble.

Not even a single step.

He was just two steps past the midcourt line, a full three meters away from the three-point line.

A distance that no basketball professional could understand.

From this position, no one would choose to shoot unless it was a desperate heave before a timeout or at the end of a quarter.

But Lin Feng did exactly that.

He didn't make any adjustments; he didn't even glance at the hoop.

The moment he caught the ball, his body followed the momentum and jumped.

His legs pushed off, his core tightened, his arms rose high, and his wrist gave a gentle flick.

An incredibly standard shooting form.

It was as smooth as a breakdown of movements in a textbook.

The basketball left his hand.

It traced an absurdly high parabola in the air.

That arc was so high it almost touched the ceiling of the practice facility.

Time seemed to slow down at this moment.

In the entire gym, everyone's movements came to a halt.

The teammates on Team B had faces full of despair.

"It's over, he's gone crazy."

"What is this? A self-destructive shot?"

"Coach, hurry up and sub him out. I don't want to be humiliated with him!"

The Team A players were stunned for a moment, then erupted into even louder laughter.

"Hahaha! What is this guy doing?"

"Is he trying to throw the ball back to our half?"

Jordan Farmar didn't even bother to look back. He spread his hands toward the referee with an expression of helplessness.

Nick Young was laughing so hard he was doubled over. He pointed at the ball in the sky and shouted loudly to the teammate beside him.

"Do you see that! That's the level of our opponent!"

"Is this guy insane?"

"Does he think he's God?"

The assistant coach on the sideline closed his eyes in pain, already anticipating D'Antoni's thunderous rage.

D'Antoni's face was indeed as dark as the bottom of a pot.

His fists clenched until they cracked, and his lips moved as the words "get out" were already on the tip of his tongue.

In his view, this was the ultimate disrespect to the game and to basketball!

A player who was about to be cut, using this method to vent his frustration?

Unforgivable!

Just as everyone was certain this was nothing more than a ridiculous, venting shot...

That basketball, which had been flying in the air for a long time, began to descend.

Its trajectory didn't deviate in the slightest.

It plunged accurately toward the very center of the hoop.

"Swish!"

A crisp, pleasant sound that instantly silenced the entire gym.

The ball went straight through the net!

The net flipped up gently like a young girl's skirt and then settled back down.

Silence.

The entire gym was as silent as the grave.

Nick Young, who had been laughing loudly just a moment ago, had his smile frozen, his mouth still hanging open in an exaggerated 'O' shape.

Everyone on the Team A bench, who had been waiting for a joke, stood up, craning their necks like puppets under a freezing spell.

The Team B teammates who had already prepared to give up had their eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. They looked at each other, seeing the same confusion and shock in each other's eyes.

Jordan Farmar heard that crisp sound of the ball hitting the net.

He turned around mechanically.

He saw the basketball rolling away from under the net.

He was stunned.

The ball... went in?

How is that possible?

From that distance?

It didn't even touch the rim?

What kind of magic is this?

No, this must be a hallucination!

On the sideline, the assistant coach's closed eyes snapped open. He adjusted his glasses, thinking he had misheard.

And the head coach, Mike D'Antoni, swallowed the curse that was about to escape his mouth.

He looked as if he had been struck by lightning, frozen in place.

Then, slowly, he stood up from the coach's bench.

He pushed aside the tactical board blocking his view and took two steps forward to the edge of the court.

Those bloodshot eyes from staying up late stared intently at the figure in the center of the court.

Lin Feng.

After making that shot, he didn't make any celebratory gestures.

No pumping his fist, no shouting, not even a hint of a smile.

His expression was as calm as a deep pool of water.

It was as if that world-shaking super-long three-pointer was, to him, nothing more than a perfectly ordinary shooting practice.

He simply landed lightly, then turned and began running back to his half of the court, preparing for defense.

That composure, that calmness, formed an incredibly sharp contrast with the shock and bewilderment of everyone around him.

This extreme contrast brought an even more powerful impact!

"Hey, get back on defense."

Lin Feng said indifferently as he passed his still-dazed Team B teammates.

His teammates snapped out of it as if from a dream and subconsciously started running with him.

But their steps were light and unsteady, their gazes unfocused, with only one thought swirling in their minds.

Was that shot just now real?

"It was... luck, right?"

"Yeah, it must be luck! A fluke!"

The Team A players finally reacted from their shock, unwilling to believe the reality they had seen.

"Let him shoot a hundred more times, and he won't make another one!"

Nick Young shouted loudly, as if trying to convince his teammates and himself.

However, there was a hint of a tremor in his voice that he hadn't even noticed.

The air in the entire training facility had changed.

The oppressive, desperate atmosphere mixed with mockery was completely shattered by that shot.

In its place was a strange atmosphere mixed with suspicion and anticipation.

Everyone's eyes, whether intentionally or not, were all focused on that Asian man wearing the number 1 jersey.

D'Antoni paid no attention to the commotion on the court.

His eyes didn't blink, like a hawk that had found its prey, firmly locked onto Lin Feng.

He raised his hand, interrupting Team A as they prepared to inbound the ball again.

The game was paused once more.

The entire gym was terrifyingly quiet.

D'Antoni walked onto the court step by step, heading straight for Lin Feng.

Everyone held their breath.

They didn't know how this coach, known for his fiery temper, would react to that "unconventional" shot.

Would it be fury, or... D'Antoni stopped in front of Lin Feng.

He was half a head shorter than Lin Feng, and at this moment, he had to look up at this young man he had been completely indifferent to yesterday.

He stared into Lin Feng's eyes; there was no defiance or panic as he had imagined, only a field of tranquility.

D'Antoni remained silent for a long time.

His Adam's apple bobbed as if he were searching for words.

Finally, in a raspy voice filled with extreme confusion and inquiry, he blurted out.

"Kid, what was that... just now?"