64: The clouds over Los Angeles

Kupchak's voice, in the deathly silent locker room, sounded like a death knell.

"Fractured left tibia, out for the season."

Every word was like a heavy tombstone, crashing down on everyone's heart.

It's over.

This thought surfaced in the mind of every Lakers player.

Gasol's fists lost their strength and hung limply.

Artest's angry cursing also came to an abrupt halt; he slumped back into his chair as if all his bones had been removed.

Kobe just sat there with his head down. No one could see his expression, but the aura radiating from him was colder than a winter night in Houston.

The thread that connected the team's offense and held onto the last hope for the playoffs had completely snapped.

On the plane back to Los Angeles, the atmosphere was oppressive to the extreme.

No one spoke. The ordinary passengers in economy class didn't even dare to breathe loudly, as if they could feel the despair wafting over from first class.

Some players took out their phones; the news online was already everywhere.

"Breaking News! Nash's left leg is fractured, out for the season; the Lakers' playoff hopes are completely shattered!"

"TNT commentator Charles Barkley: I said it long ago, they're finished. Now, it's just an early announcement of death."

"ESPN experts analyze: Without Nash, this Lakers team is just a heap of loose sand. Kobe is struggling alone; their season is already over."

Pessimistic views spread like a virus through the media and fan circles.

Los Angeles was shrouded in dark clouds.

The next day, at the team training center.

In the tactical analysis room, D'Antoni gathered everyone.

His eyes were sunken, and he seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

He looked at the dejected faces filled with confusion.

"I know how everyone feels."

D'Antoni's voice was hoarse.

"Steve has fallen. This is a devastating blow to us."

"But!"

He slapped the tactical board hard, making a loud noise, trying to wake up these despondent players.

"The game must go on! The season isn't over yet!"

"What did Steve say to Kobe and Lin on the stretcher?"

He looked at Kobe and Lin Feng.

"'Win it!'"

"We can't let him down! We can't just surrender like a bunch of cowards!"

His words stirred a faint ripple, but it was quickly suppressed by the heavy reality.

Without a playmaker, how could they win?

D'Antoni scanned the room. Finally, his gaze settled on the young man who had remained silent throughout.

"Starting from the next game..."

D'Antoni's voice was incredibly solemn.

"Lin."

"You will be our starting point guard."

The words fell.

In the analysis room, all eyes focused on Lin Feng at the same time.

Kobe looked up, his bloodshot eyes staring intently at him, as if scrutinizing or interrogating him.

Gasol, Howard, Artest... every gaze was like a mountain, pressing heavily on Lin Feng's shoulders.

The heavy responsibility of organizing the offense.

The duty of being the team's brain.

This burden, which no one could have imagined before the season started, had fallen on him without warning.

Lin Feng stood tall, his face expressionless.

But he knew that his heart, which had become extremely confident because of the system, felt heavy for the first time.

He was a scorer, a finisher.

His skills were an unstoppable shot and a blade that tore through defenses.

But he had never truly served as the commander of a team in a game of NBA caliber.

"Coach..."

A player wanted to speak, seemingly to raise a doubt.

"Shut up."

A cold voice interrupted him.

It was Kobe.

He stood up and walked over to Lin Feng, the distance between them so close they could feel each other's breath.

"This burden is yours now."

Kobe's voice sounded like it was squeezed through his teeth.

"Don't fucking mess it up."

...That night.

Lin Feng canceled his appointment with Scarlett at the Malibu Gallery.

He only replied with three words.

"Something urgent came up."

No explanation.

The key to unlocking the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor was right in front of him, but he had no heart for it now.

He drove alone to the Lakers' private training facility.

In the empty arena, only a few lights were on.

He opened the team's video database.

Steve Nash's figure appeared on the screen.

He watched it over and over again.

Watching how Nash used a look or a gesture to direct his teammates' positioning.

Watching how he used changes in rhythm to tear through the opponent's defense and create open opportunities for his teammates.

Watching how he made the optimal passing choice in the blink of an eye.

After finishing with Nash, he pulled up game footage of Chris Paul.

Watching how this top point guard in the league controlled every possession like a chess player, organizing the team's offense in an orderly fashion.

Lin Feng was mesmerized.

He tried to carve these images and tactical choices into his mind.

He wanted to learn, to imitate, and to transform from a top scorer into a qualified point guard overnight.

He didn't close his eyes that night.

The next day.

Lakers home court, Staples Center.

The opponent was the Sacramento Kings.

A weak team at the bottom of the Western Conference, having entered a rebuilding phase early.

Everyone thought this would be a victory for the Lakers to adjust their morale and move out of the gloom.

Pre-game player introductions.

When the arena DJ shouted "Starting point guard—Lin Feng—!", a burst of warm cheers erupted from the crowd.

Amidst the cheers, there was a faint, imperceptible trace of worry and expectation.

The game began.

The Lakers' first possession.

Lin Feng held the ball, standing at the top of the arc.

Countless tactical images he had seen last night flashed through his mind.

He directed Gasol to come up for a pick-and-roll and dribbled to penetrate.

The Kings' defense was loose, and an open shot opportunity appeared before him.

He could shoot.

But he hesitated.

He remembered that Nash, in this situation, would prioritize finding Howard in the paint.

He forcibly suppressed the thought of shooting and looked for Howard's position.

In that split second of hesitation, the Kings' defenders had already closed in.

The passing lane was blocked.

He could only clumsily pass the ball to Kobe on the perimeter.

With the 24-second shot clock winding down, Kobe took a hurried shot, and the ball missed.

The Kings grabbed the rebound, and their small guard Isiah Thomas finished a fast break.

The Lakers' next possession.

Lin Feng held the ball again.

This time, he wanted to create an opportunity for Kobe.

He tried hard to run the plays, but his passing timing was always a bit off.

Either it was too early, and Kobe hadn't reached the spot yet.

Or it was too late, and the Kings' defense was already in place.

By the time the ball reached Kobe's hands, it was no longer a good offensive opportunity.

"Play your own game!"

Kobe shouted at him.

Lin Feng's mind became even more cluttered.

Score? Or organize?

He was completely caught in a struggle and contradiction.

He wanted to pass to his teammates, but he always ended up making mistakes, turning them into turnovers.

He wanted to score himself, but he feared being criticized for a "selfish playstyle" and failing the coach's trust.

He played timidly, completely losing his previous sharp and elegant edge.

The Kings seized on the Lakers' offensive chaos.

DeMarcus Cousins dominated the paint, and Isaiah Thomas's perimeter penetration was incredibly sharp.

This weak team that should have been easily defeated fought as one, performing beyond their usual level.

The score was actually being pulled apart bit by bit by them.

The expressions on the faces of the fans at the Staples Center went from relaxed to surprised, and then to disbelief.

In the final moments of the game, the Lakers were still trailing.

Lin Feng tried to turn on his personal scoring mode, just like in the previous game against the Rockets.

He used an Formless Shot to hit a high-difficulty three-pointer.

But this time, there was no admiration in his teammates' eyes, only numbness.

This kind of individual scoring couldn't solve the problem.

The final buzzer sounded.

108 to 113.

The Los Angeles Lakers suffered an upset loss to the Sacramento Kings on their home court.

Suffering a two-game losing streak.

Lin Feng walked off the court with his head down.

For the first time, boos directed at him rang out in the Staples Center.

In the locker room, the atmosphere was colder than the freezing point.

Kobe rushed into the shower without a word, and the muffled sound of him punching the wall came from inside.

The TV on the wall was playing a post-game commentary show.

A famous commentator was ranting at the camera.

"What did I just see? This is your savior? This is your starting point guard?"

"Without Nash, Lin Feng has been completely exposed! He's been found out!"

"I'll say it again, he's just a scorer! A shooter! He will never, ever become a leader!"