88: The walls of the Purple Gold Legion!

Raja Bell's foot, clad only in a basketball shoe, stealthily extended towards Lin Feng's running path at an extremely concealed and malicious angle!

If that foot landed squarely, Lin Feng's ankle would likely be directly deformed.

At best, a sprain; at worst, a season-ending injury!

Just as that foot was about to touch Lin Feng's heel.

A purple and gold figure, like an enraged bull, suddenly charged in from the side!

"Bang!"

A dull thud of muscle colliding!

Kobe Bryant!

He solidly slammed his chest into Raja Bell's body!

Bell had no idea Kobe would suddenly rush out. He was knocked back repeatedly by the immense force, falling onto his backside.

The entire arena erupted in an uproar!

Kobe stood his ground, looking down at Bell on the floor.

His eyes burned with terrifying anger.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Kobe's voice, squeezed out from between his teeth, carried a bone-chilling coldness.

Bell scrambled up from the floor, his face showing a hint of exasperation from his thwarted scheme.

"I'm just playing normal defense! What's wrong with you?"

He tried to argue, glaring fiercely at Kobe.

Kobe stepped forward, his chest almost touching Bell's face.

"Normal defense?"

"You dare touch him again, I dare you!"

Kobe's right index finger was practically poking Raja Bell's nose!

The atmosphere was explosive!

Players from both sides quickly swarmed around, separating the two.

The referee's whistle finally blew. He rushed into the crowd, standing between Kobe and Bell.

"Everyone calm down!"

"Technical foul! One for each side!"

The referee made his ruling.

This ruling brought the boos at Energy Solutions Arena to a new peak.

"Rigged!"

"Kobe threw the first punch!"

Jazz Team fans roared wildly.

But on the Lakers' side, the atmosphere underwent a subtle change.

Gasol walked up to Kobe, patted his shoulder, his eyes full of approval.

Nash looked at Lin Feng, and only after confirming he was alright did he let out a sigh of relief.

And Nick Young, he walked directly to Lin Feng's side and stood firm.

He said nothing, but his posture, his gaze, said it all.

From this moment on.

This group of Lakers veterans, these players whom the outside world called "old, weak, sick, and disabled," spontaneously built an invisible, purple and gold wall around Lin Feng.

The game resumed.

The tension on the court grew even thicker.

The Jazz Team continued with their rough defensive style.

But the Lakers' response also became incredibly tough.

Jazz Team's inside core, Al Jefferson, was posting up under the basket. He habitually used his thick arms to push and shove Gasol.

This time, Gasol didn't use his usual technique to neutralize it.

He lowered his center of gravity and pushed back hard with his own body!

"Bang!"

Two big men over 2.10 meters tall engaged in a primal struggle in the paint.

Jefferson discovered that this Spaniard had suddenly become like a wall; he couldn't budge him at all!

On the perimeter, Nick Young clung to Hayward, the Jazz Team's primary scorer, like super glue.

His arms constantly interfered, his body continuously contested, and from his mouth, he began to spew the trash talk of Los Angeles streets.

"Hey, white boy, that phone call gesture earlier was pretty good."

"But I guess you won't have a chance to make another one tonight."

Hayward was so annoyed by him that his several shots were wildly off target.

Another Jazz Team player, DeMarre Carroll, found himself mismatched against Lin Feng.

He dribbled the ball while trash-talking Lin Feng.

"Kid, I heard you got three women at once?"

"Teach me? Is it just about being handsome?"

His words were full of vulgar innuendo.

Lin Feng remained expressionless, not even twitching an eyebrow.

He was about to speak.

But Nick Young suddenly stepped in from the side, directly blocking between Lin Feng and Carroll.

"Hey! Shut your stinking mouth!"

Nick Young pointed at Carroll, his expression fiercer than ever before.

"Mind your own business! Otherwise, I guarantee you won't get a single point tonight!"

Carroll was startled by Nick Young's intensity, and his trash talk immediately stopped.

Lin Feng stood behind Nick Young, watching his usually carefree teammate step up to protect him for the first time.

He looked to the other side, where Kobe's toughest defense made it difficult for Bell to even receive a pass.

He watched as Gasol engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat for every rebound in the paint.

A warm current slowly rose from the bottom of his heart.

For the first time, he truly felt that he wasn't fighting alone.

Behind him stood a team.

A group of teammates willing to shield him from all overt and covert attacks.

This trust, this protection, was more precious than any victory.

The coldness in Lin Feng's eyes quietly melted at this moment.

He completely let go of his desire to score.

He wanted to give himself completely to this team.

He wanted to repay their trust in his own way!

"Kobe!"

During the next defensive play, Lin Feng's voice suddenly rang out on the court.

"Watch your back! Bell is going to set an off-ball screen for you!"

Kobe, who was chasing defensively, subconsciously adjusted his steps, preemptively went around Bell's screen, and still stuck tightly to his man.

The Jazz Team's tactical play yielded no results.

"Pau!"

Lin Feng's voice rang out again.

"Their pick-and-roll is fake! Millsap is going to the three-point line! Guard outside!"

Gasol, who was about to switch with his teammate, immediately changed his defensive strategy. He didn't rush towards the ball-handler but directly rushed towards Millsap on the perimeter!

Millsap had just run to the three-point line, received the pass, and was preparing to shoot.

Gasol's massive figure had already obscured all his shooting space!

In a hurry, his shot was an airball!

"Nick! Left side! Hayward is going left!"

"Nash! Don't be fooled! He's going to pass to the corner!"

Lin Feng's voice became the Lakers' command tower on defense.

He no longer just defended his own matchup.

He used the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor to survey the entire half-court.

Every Jazz Team movement, every screen, every tactical intention was anticipated by him and then communicated to his teammates in the most concise language.

The situation on the court became incredibly strange.

The Lakers' defense seemed to turn into an impenetrable iron cage.

The Jazz Team players desperately found that no matter how they ran or passed, they would ultimately run headfirst into the Lakers' pre-set defensive traps.

Their offense became stagnant, chaotic, and riddled with turnovers.

Meanwhile, the Lakers players played smoother and smoother.

They only needed to listen to Lin Feng's commands, run to the designated position, and they could complete a successful defensive play.

This feeling was truly amazing!

The Jazz Team's plan to disrupt the Lakers' rhythm with dirty tactics, rough play, and trash talk completely failed in the face of Lin Feng's terrifyingly calm command and the Lakers' unprecedented unity.

"Beep—!"

The halftime whistle finally blew.

The scoreboard showed 48 to 42.

The Lakers, after a passive start, had taken a 6-point lead.

The Jazz Team players walked off the court dejectedly, their faces filled with confusion and frustration.

And in the visiting team's locker room tunnel.

Jazz Team head coach Tyrone Corbin kicked over a nearby beverage cooler, letting out a thunderous roar.

He grabbed the tactical board and yelled at his assistant coaching staff.

"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?!"

"He knows all our tactics, all our signals!!"

"We're not facing a rookie at all! It's a defensive system that can predict the future!"