93: A systemic domination! Popovich's strategic maneuver!

Subconsciously, he supported his knee with his hand.

This shot, under Leonard's interference, bounced off the rim.

Duncan secured the rebound, and the San Antonio Spurs were in no hurry to attack, instead steadily running down the remaining time of the first quarter.

"Beep—!"

The whistle for the inter-quarter break sounded.

Kobe didn't leave the court immediately; he stood where he was, gently moving his left knee with a deep frown.

D'Antoni walked over quickly, his face full of concern.

"Kobe, your knee..."

"It's nothing."

Kobe waved his hand, cutting him off, and walked toward the bench with a grim expression.

The atmosphere at the Los Angeles Lakers' bench was terrifyingly oppressive.

D'Antoni held the tactical board but couldn't say a single word.

All his tactics seemed like a laughable joke in front of the San Antonio Spurs' precision machine.

He looked at Lin Feng, the young man who had been the savior in the last game, who was now bowing his head as sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor.

"Lin."

D'Antoni's voice was a bit dry.

"Stop trying to predict all of them."

"I don't know how you do it, but it's draining your stamina, and... it's not working."

He took a deep breath and circled Tony Parker's name on the tactical board.

"In the second quarter, you stick to him like glue! He's the engine; if we choke him out, we have a chance!"

Lin Feng looked up at D'Antoni.

He wanted to say something, wanted to say that the Spurs had more than one engine.

But in the end, he just nodded.

Because he didn't have a better solution either.

For the first time, the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor seemed so pale in the face of a team system.

The second quarter began.

Lin Feng strictly followed the coach's instructions, sticking to Tony Parker like a piece of plaster.

He gave up observing the whole court and focused all his energy on predicting Parker's movements alone.

Spurs' possession.

Parker dribbled to the frontcourt, and seeing Lin Feng's inseparable stance, a slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He didn't try to break through, or even perform any extra fakes.

He just passed the ball to Manu Ginobili next to him a second before Lin Feng closed in.

Then, he just stood there, motionless.

Lin Feng was stunned.

He was "pinned" in place by Parker.

If he went to help on defense, Parker would immediately get a huge open look.

If he didn't move, he became a spectator who could only watch the show.

And the ball was already in Ginóbili's hands.

That Argentine was like a demonic snake gliding through water.

With a bizarre change of direction and a Euro step, he easily tore through the Lakers' perimeter defense.

Gasol was forced to slide over for help defense.

Just when everyone thought Ginóbili was going for a layup or a pass to Duncan inside.

In mid-air, with an inconceivable move as if he had eyes in the back of his head, he whipped the ball toward the opposite forty-five-degree angle.

Kawhi Leonard.

Catch, shoot.

The basketball traced a cold arc through the air.

"Swish!"

Another three-pointer!

Watching all this, a chill rose from the soles of Lin Feng's feet.

He understood.

Popovich's tactic was "de-centralization."

When he tried to predict the whole court, the Spurs defeated him with the simplest passes.

When he tried to man-mark a specific core player, the Spurs immediately switched to another core.

Everyone was an initiator, and everyone was a finisher.

This was a fucking open scheme specifically designed to counter the Eye of the Heavenly Emperor!

On the offensive end, Lin Feng felt an unprecedented sense of suffocation.

He tried to break the deadlock with his individual ability.

He used his speed to get past the first line of defense.

But as soon as he rushed into the paint, before he could make his next move.

Duncan's massive figure was already blocking his path.

At the same time, Leonard on the wing had already closed in like a ghost, sealing off all his possible passing lanes.

He seemed to have fallen into a great web woven of black, white, and silver.

In desperation, he could only choose a high-difficulty fadeaway jumper.

"Clang!"

Under the interference of Leonard's fingertips, the ball was wildly off-target.

On the sidelines, Popovich finally picked up his red wine, took a small sip, and his face remained expressionless.

Kobe stepped up.

Looking at the almost stagnant situation on the court, he knew he had to do something.

In the low post, he used all his strength to back down Leonard.

That young man, like an emotionless stone, used his massive palms to constantly harass Kobe.

Every turn and every exertion of force by Kobe seemed exceptionally difficult.

Relying on his experience, he finally created a sliver of space and completed a signature fadeaway jumper.

The ball went in.

But the moment he landed, his left knee sent another sharp jolt of pain.

A flash of agony crossed his face, but it was quickly masked by his powerful willpower.

However, this subtle expression did not escape the capture of the sideline cameras.

On the commentary desk, Charles Barkley let out a sigh.

"Kobe is burning his last bits of energy."

"But his opponent is the young, tireless Kawhi Leonard."

"This matchup was unfair from the start."

The third quarter.

The Lakers' defense completely collapsed.

The point difference was quickly stretched to over twenty points.

Lin Feng was exhausted from running on the court, sweat soaking his jersey and blurring his vision.

He watched the Spurs players pierce through his team's defense time and again with fluid cooperation.

For the first time on a basketball court, he felt such a profound sense of helplessness.

It was a despair that came from the depths of the soul when facing an invincible enemy.

"Beep—!"

D'Antoni called a timeout and subbed out all the starters.

The game entered garbage time.

Lin Feng walked off the court, plopped onto the bench, and covered his head with a towel.

He didn't want to watch anything happening on the court anymore.

He just listened to the sound of the basketball hitting the floor and the polite, restrained cheers of the Spurs fans.

Every sound was like a heavy hammer, pounding on his self-esteem.

The final whistle of the game finally blew.

105 to 80.

The Lakers suffered a crushing 25-point defeat.

Lin Feng's stats finally settled at 22 points and 8 assists.

This was a set of stats that looked decent.

But on the court, his impact had been almost completely neutralized.

He won the stats but lost the entire game.

In the player tunnel, reporters surrounded Kawhi Leonard, who had performed excellently tonight.

"Kawhi, you successfully limited Kobe tonight, holding him to just 8-of-25 shooting. How did you do it?"

Leonard looked at the camera, and his face still showed no emotional fluctuation.

"I was just following the coach's orders."

The post-game press conference.

The atmosphere on the Lakers' side was heavy.

Kobe did not attend because his knee needed icing.

Lin Feng and D'Antoni sat on the stage, facing the barrage of reporters' cameras and microphones.

"Lin, this is the most painful defeat since you entered the NBA. Do you have anything to say?"

Lin Feng held the microphone and remained silent for a long time.

"We were outplayed."

On the other side, the atmosphere at the Spurs' conference was much more relaxed.

A reporter threw that tricky question to Popovich.

"Coach, how did you limit Lin Feng tonight? In his last game against the Jazz, he almost single-handedly dominated the game, but tonight, he seemed completely lost."

Popovich adjusted his glasses and picked up the microphone.

His face wore that trademark expression—a bit impatient, yet nonchalant.

"Limit him?"

The old man asked back, then spoke slowly.

"We were just playing our brand of basketball."