66: Black Mamba's palanquin

Los Angeles, Staples Center.

The air felt as if it had been ignited, every speck of dust carrying a frenetic electric current.

With half an hour left before the game started, the arena was already packed to capacity.

Every camera lens and every person's gaze was focused on a corner of the court.

That man wearing the number 24 purple and gold jersey was currently performing shooting warm-ups.

Kobe Bryant.

He was back.

His cheeks were thinner than before his injury, and his facial lines were harder and colder.

Every jump and every shot appeared so cautious, lacking his former explosive power.

The shadow of the ruptured Achilles tendon was like an invisible shackle, binding this once omnipotent black mamba.

The fans' emotions were complex.

They cheered wildly for his return, yet felt heartache and worry for his visibly weakened state.

Lin Feng sat on the bench, watching that back.

That back, which once seemed like a god—invincible—now exuded the tragic heroism of a twilight hero.

He couldn't understand why Kobe would do this.

Gambling his entire career for a playoff spot that only had a slim chance of being reached.

Was it worth it?

"Lin, get ready to go on."

D'Antoni's voice pulled him back to reality.

Lin Feng stood up, took off his warm-up suit, and walked onto the court.

Tonight's opponent was the Minnesota Timberwolves.

A young team featuring 'Love God' Kevin Love and 'Golden Boy' Ricky Rubio.

During the pre-game player introductions, when the PA announcer shouted Kobe's name with all his might, the sound wave that erupted from the Staples Center nearly blew the roof off the arena.

Kobe merely high-fived his teammates expressionlessly.

Lin Feng was the last one.

Kobe's palm slapped hard against his hand.

"Don't think too much."

Kobe's voice was very low.

"Just play your game."

The game started with the tip-off, and the Lakers gained possession.

Lin Feng dribbled the ball, slowly crossing half-court.

He stood at the top of the arc, his gaze subconsciously drifting toward Kobe on the wing.

This was a habit formed over the past five games; when a play didn't develop or when he felt lost, handing the ball to Kobe seemed like the only solution.

Even though Kobe in that position was no longer the playmaker Nash.

He didn't hesitate, delivering a bounce pass steadily into Kobe's hands.

The entire crowd stood up.

They were expectant, waiting.

Waiting for Kobe to announce his return with a signature isolation play.

The Timberwolves' defender also nervously pressed up, not daring to be the least bit careless.

Kobe caught the ball.

He didn't make any jab steps, nor did he make any shot fakes.

He performed an action that was difficult for the over 18,000 spectators to understand.

He dribbled the ball, not looking at the basket, but instead walking toward Lin Feng's direction.

Then, he stopped, spread his legs, and lowered his center of gravity.

He set a solid off-ball screen for Lin Feng.

Time seemed to freeze for a brief moment.

The Timberwolves' defender was stunned.

D'Antoni, on the sidelines, opened his mouth in surprise.

Gasol and Howard on the bench looked at each other in disbelief.

Lin Feng was also dazed.

Kobe Bryant was setting a pick for him?

The black mamba, who had been proud his whole life and viewed scoring as his lifeblood, was playing a supporting role for a first-year rookie like him?

"Move!"

Kobe growled, waking Lin Feng from his shock.

Lin Feng's body, almost by instinct, rounded Kobe's screen and ran toward the opposite corner.

Kobe's screen was of extremely high quality, like a wall, pinning the defender firmly behind him.

The ball was timely passed to Lin Feng by Gasol from the high post.

Open.

A massive wide-open opportunity.

Lin Feng caught the ball, jumped, and released.

The motion was seamless.

The basketball traced a perfect arc through the air.

"Swish!"

Nothing but net!

Three-pointer made!

The entire Staples Center, after a brief silence, erupted into a cheer and applause even more violent than before.

The fans weren't cheering for the three-pointer.

They were cheering for Kobe's screen.

That image was deeply etched into the heart of every Lakers fan.

It represented a passing of the torch.

More importantly, it represented sacrifice.

On the Timberwolves' attack, Rubio's pass was intercepted by Artest.

The Lakers launched a counterattack.

Lin Feng pushed forward quickly with the ball, with Kobe running alongside him.

Upon reaching the frontcourt, Kobe didn't stop outside the three-point line to wait for the ball; instead, like a blue-collar interior player, he plunged into the paint.

He used his not-so-strong body to firmly box out the Timberwolves' center, clearing a path for Lin Feng to drive.

Lin Feng didn't hesitate anymore, accelerated, drove straight to the rim, and scored a simple layup.

For the rest of the first half, the game entered a strange rhythm.

Kobe Bryant had completely turned into a "blue-collar player."

He ran tirelessly, setting screen after screen for Lin Feng.

He used his remaining energy and that court presence—enough to make any defender tremble—to draw the defense and create space for Lin Feng.

He was no longer the indestructible sharp blade.

He became a shield, standing in front of Lin Feng, absorbing all the damage for him.

Official timeout.

The Lakers players walked off the court.

Lin Feng was still in a state of surrealism; he looked at Kobe's chest heaving from heavy breathing, his throat feeling a bit dry.

He wanted to say something, but didn't know where to start.

"How does it feel?"

Kobe picked up a bottle of water and poured it over his head, his voice somewhat raspy.

"I..."

Lin Feng didn't know how to answer.

"Right now, you are the engine of this team."

Kobe interrupted him, his eyes shining frighteningly bright under the lights.

"Don't doubt yourself, do what you need to do."

"I've got your back."

Kobe's words were like a key, instantly unlocking the heavy shackles in Lin Feng's heart.

Scoring or playmaking?

A cancer or a leader?

Those contradictions and struggles that had tortured him into sleepless nights over the past five games vanished in this moment.

He understood.

Kobe was using his actions to tell him that a true leader doesn't choose between scoring and playmaking.

Instead, they use everything they have to win the game.

The second half began.

Lin Feng had changed.

There was no longer any confusion or hesitation in his eyes.

He still held the ball, but every decision was incredibly decisive.

If there was an opportunity, he used his Formless Shot to attack the basket directly, ignoring all defense.

When teammates were open, his passes were delivered instantly, without any hesitation.

The Lakers' offense came alive.

The ball moved fluidly, and everyone was involved.

Nick Young received a drive-and-kick from Lin Feng at the corner and hit an open three, excitedly performing his signature celebration.

Gasol received a lob pass from Lin Feng in the paint and scored an easy bank shot.

Howard also received an alley-oop pass and finished with a slam dunk.

Lin Feng had completely revitalized the entire team.

He was like a skilled conductor, perfectly blending all the instruments together to play a magnificent offensive movement.

And Kobe was the most silent yet most important timpani.

He just ran and drew attention on the court, occasionally hitting an open mid-range jumper, but his presence was the Lakers' greatest source of confidence.

The game reached the final minute.

The two sides were locked in a stalemate.

110 to 111.

The Lakers trailed by one point.

They held the final offensive possession.

D'Antoni didn't call a timeout.

Everyone knew who this ball should go to.

The ball, without surprise, was handed to Kobe.

He held the ball in the low post with his back to the basket, facing the Timberwolves' defensive specialist.

Kevin Love immediately abandoned his man and rushed over to double-team him.

Double-teamed!

Everyone in the Staples Center held their breath.

This was the classic Kobe moment.

Everyone thought Kobe would do what he had done countless times in the past—face the double-team and end the game with an unreasonable fadeaway jumper.

However.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, Kobe didn't force a shot.

He used an extremely exquisite behind-the-back pass; the basketball seemed to have eyes, passing through the gap between the two defenders to reach Lin Feng at the top of the arc.