7: 12 out of 12 shots, a comeback victory!

The players of Team A were completely broken; they stood there with hands on their hips, their faces etched with despair.

D'Antoni suddenly waved his hand.

"Timeout!"

The piercing sound of the whistle felt like a grand reprieve to the Team A players. They dragged their heavy feet toward the sidelines, heads bowed like a flock of defeated roosters.

Nick Young was the first to rush up to the coach, his voice carrying a faint, undetectable tremor.

"Coach, this is unplayable!"

"He's a monster!"

"Two of us go to defend him, and he doesn't even need to look at the rim!"

"Three! We need three people to guard him!" Nick Young held up three fingers, roaring with emotion.

"I don't care about the others. Even if the other four from Team B are dancing under the basket, don't let that Number 1 touch the ball again!"

"Don't let him receive a single pass!"

D'Antoni didn't speak; he just stared at the other end of the court.

The Team B players had Lin Feng surrounded, the atmosphere there being the polar opposite of Team A's.

"Lin! That was incredible!"

"Brother, how did you do it?"

"We still have a chance! We can win!"

The looks of disdain and exclusion from before had now entirely transformed into worship and trust.

The teammate who had made the passing error earlier was now fanning Lin Feng with a towel, his face full of a flattering smile.

"Lin, I'll give the ball back to you later. You take the shot!"

Lin Feng simply nodded calmly.

He glanced at the scoreboard.

25:24.

There were only 10 seconds left in the game.

Team B's possession.

D'Antoni shifted his gaze from Lin Feng to his own players.

His voice was low, yet it carried an undeniable pressure.

"Do exactly as Nick said."

"Triple-team Lin Feng."

"From the moment he starts his off-ball movement, stick to him. Use physical contact; don't give him an inch of space to receive the ball."

"I'd rather see someone else on Team B get an open layup than see him take another shot."

The Team A players nodded heavily, a fierce glint reigniting in their eyes.

Right—as long as they didn't let him get the ball, he was nothing.

The timeout ended.

The players returned to the court.

Team B's baseline inbound.

When the player responsible for the inbound stood out of bounds, he saw a scene that made his scalp tingle.

Nick Young, Jordan Farmar, and another guard from Team A had formed a triangle, trapping Lin Feng tightly outside the three-point line.

That wasn't defense.

That was a sack formation from American football.

The referee already had the whistle in his mouth and began the count.

"One second!"

"Two seconds!"

The Team B players tried desperately to set screens for Lin Feng, but the Team A players didn't care; they would rather foul than let Lin Feng through.

Lin Feng felt like he was stuck in a quagmire; every step he took was exceptionally difficult.

"Three seconds!"

The teammate inbounding the ball was sweating profusely, unable to find any passing lane.

The other four players on Team B were wide open, but they didn't even dare to put their hands out for the ball.

Everyone knew this ball had to go to Lin Feng.

"Four seconds!"

"Pass the ball!" Robert Sacre, the Team B center, roared.

He couldn't stand by and watch the team lose the game because of a five-second violation.

The inbounding teammate's mind went blank; with no other choice, he could only throw the ball toward Sacre, who seemed like the only viable option.

The ball reached Sacre's hands.

The Team A center immediately pounced on him.

Less than 5 seconds remained.

Sacre wasn't an offensive threat; he even struggled with dribbling.

Clutching the ball, he noticed Team A's defensive formation loosen for a split second due to the pass.

To prevent Sacre from passing the ball back to Lin Feng, Nick Young shifted a step toward Sacre.

It was just that one step.

Lin Feng seized the opportunity, suddenly cutting back and sprinting toward his own backcourt.

"Don't let him go!" Nick Young exclaimed, immediately turning to give chase.

Sacre saw Lin Feng's movement.

Without the slightest hesitation, he used all his strength to fling the basketball toward their own half of the court.

It was a long pass that spanned half the court!

The ball flew through the air.

Lin Feng was running.

Nick Young was chasing.

Time was slipping away.

3 seconds!

Lin Feng was faster than Nick Young, reaching the ball's landing point first.

Just a step inside his own three-point line.

He caught the ball.

But there was no one in front of him, as all of Team A's defensive force was concentrated in the frontcourt.

However, he was still nearly an entire basketball court's length away from the opponent's basket!

2 seconds!

The red numbers on the timer were jumping frantically.

Lin Feng didn't dribble or adjust.

The moment he caught the ball, he planted his feet and turned his body toward the opposing basket.

He glanced at the basket far off in the distance, then quickly peeked at the sideline timer.

1.5 seconds!

He bent his knees, leaned his body back, and transferred all his strength from the soles of his feet to his waist and abdomen, finally gathering it in his arms.

This wasn't a standard jump shot.

It was a full-force heave!

"Shoot it!" someone on the Team B bench screamed at the top of their lungs.

Nick Young was still sprinting madly, extending his arm in an attempt to block from behind.

But he was a step too late.

Lin Feng pushed the basketball out with all his might.

The moment the ball left his hand, time seemed to slow down infinitely.

Carrying a desperate spin, the basketball flew toward the high sky.

It flew high, very high.

Under the lights of the training facility, it looked like a rising star.

Everyone on the court stopped moving.

Everyone looked up, their eyes following the basketball as it soared through the air.

Nick Young stopped in his tracks, maintaining his lunging posture, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly agape.

Sacre stood in place, hands clasped as if in prayer.

Some of the Team B teammates covered their eyes, afraid to look, while others craned their necks, their faces full of anticipation.

On the sideline.

D'Antoni stood up from his seat and walked to the edge of the court, hands on his knees and body leaning forward, his bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at the ball in the air.

The assistant coach's clipboard fell to the ground, but he didn't even notice.

"Beep—!"

The buzzer signaling the end of the game echoed throughout the entire gym at that moment.

Sharp and piercing.

And yet, the basketball was still in the air.

It flew past the half-court line, past Team A's three-point line, and past the free-throw line.

Its height was decreasing.

Its trajectory seemed... perfectly straight.

Everyone's hearts were in their throats.

It's impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

A full-court shot.

And a buzzer-beater released just before the sound.

The probability was lower than winning the lottery jackpot.

This could only happen in the movies!

The basketball began its final descent.

It didn't hit the backboard.

It didn't even touch the rim.

It fell precisely toward the very center of the hoop.

"Swish!"

In the gym where the echo of the buzzer had not yet faded.

A crisp, yet soul-shaking sound of the ball tearing through the net.

It reached everyone's ears with total clarity.

Nothing but net!

12 for 12!

A full-court three-point buzzer-beating game-winner!

The entire world went quiet.

The Team A players, still looking upward, had turned into twelve stone statues.

The anticipation on the faces of the Team B players froze into blank stares.

D'Antoni's hands, which were propped on his knees, were trembling uncontrollably.

No one cheered.

No one shouted.

Because everything that had just happened before their eyes had exceeded their understanding of the sport of basketball.

This wasn't luck.

This wasn't skill.

This was a miracle!

A few seconds later.

On the Team B bench, a player pinched himself hard.

The sharp pain convinced him he wasn't dreaming.

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

He let out an earth-shattering scream.

This scream seemed to ignite the entire gym.

"We won! We won!"

"A buzzer-beater! It's a buzzer-beater!"

"My God! What did I just see!"

The Team B players rushed onto the court like madmen, charging toward the figure still holding his shooting pose inside their own three-point line.

Lin Feng.

After releasing that shot, he hadn't moved.

He watched as the ball traversed the entire court and dove into the net.

His expression remained calm.

It wasn't until his teammates surrounded him, excitedly lifting him up and tossing him into the air.

"Lin! You are a god!"

"You are my God!"

Nick Young sat slumped on the floor; he looked at Lin Feng being tossed high, his eyes hollow as he muttered to himself.

"Fake... this must be fake..."