94: The final obsession! God's game!

Popovich's words, "We're just playing our brand of basketball," were like an invisible thorn piercing the hearts of every Lakers player.

On the bus back to the hotel, the atmosphere was so quiet it was unsettling.

There was no longer the revelry and shouting that followed the buzzer-beater in Salt Lake City.

Only a dead silence.

The frustration of defeat, mixed with the fear of the San Antonio Spurs' precision war machine, shrouded the entire bus like a thick fog.

Nick Young stopped joking around; he leaned against the window, staring at the monotonous night view of San Antonio in silence.

Gasol closed his eyes, his brow furrowed, seemingly replaying every detail of the game in his mind, but the more he replayed it, the more powerless he felt.

Kobe sat at the very front, also with his eyes closed; no one knew what he was thinking.

The soul of the entire team had been sucked away by that 25-point blowout defeat.

At the hotel.

The players silently returned to their respective rooms; even saying "goodnight" felt redundant.

In the hallway, there was only the sound of the Team Doctor's hurried footsteps.

He knocked on Kobe's door and then closed it behind him.

Lin Feng stood at his own doorway, looking at that closed door with a bad premonition in his heart.

He was restless in his room, his mind repeatedly replaying scenes from the game.

Parker's passing, Ginóbili's drives, Duncan's facilitation... and Leonard's hands, which were like iron claws.

For the first time, he realized that his [Eye of the Heavenly Emperor] was so insignificant in the face of a perfect system.

After ten minutes, he couldn't sit still any longer and got up to head towards Kobe's room.

He knocked gently on the door.

No response.

He knocked again.

Only muffled, low-voiced conversation came from inside.

Lin Feng hesitated for a moment before gently pushing the door open.

The scene in the room made his heart suddenly contract.

Kobe was half-lying on the bed, his face pale, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.

His left leg was stretched out, his knee swollen like a steamed bun.

The Team Doctor was holding a large syringe, slowly drawing a tube of pale yellow fluid from his knee.

On a small tray nearby, there was already a container half-filled with the fluid.

The Team Doctor's expression was incredibly grave.

"Kobe, I must say it again, there is severe fluid buildup in your knee."

"This is already a warning sign."

"You must rest the next game."

There was a note of pleading in the Team Doctor's voice.

"Otherwise, if you put weight on it incorrectly again, your meniscus could tear, which would mean you're out for the season, or even... the end of your career."

Kobe's eyes stared at the ceiling, out of focus.

He just squeezed out a few words from between his teeth.

"Drain it completely."

"Then, give me a painkilling injection."

The Team Doctor's movements halted; he looked at Kobe in disbelief.

"Are you crazy?! An injection will numb the pain, and you won't even know when your knee has reached its limit! This is no different from suicide!"

"I said, give it to me."

Kobe's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a stubbornness that seemed to freeze the air.

The Team Doctor looked into those eyes burning with the fire of paranoia; finally, he sighed helplessly, put down the syringe, and began preparing the injection.

Just then, Kobe noticed Lin Feng at the door.

"Something up?"

His voice sounded a bit hoarse due to the pain.

Lin Feng walked in, his gaze unable to move away from Kobe's swollen knee and the tube of yellow fluid next to it.

A massive impact struck his heart.

He had always thought his talent and his system were strong enough.

But until this moment, he truly felt how powerless he was.

He couldn't even share a shred of the pain for this legend who was burning everything he had.

Lin Feng's throat felt a bit dry.

He opened his mouth and finally said those long-overdue words.

"I'm sorry, Boss."

"I couldn't... help you."

Kobe pulled his gaze back from the ceiling and let it fall on Lin Feng's face.

He looked at the expression of guilt, self-reproach, and confusion on the young man's face.

He shook his head.

"It's not your fault."

Kobe took a breath to steady his voice.

"This isn't a one-on-one game, Lin."

"This is a war."

"We only lost the first battle; it doesn't mean we'll lose the whole war."

He looked at Lin Feng, hisHis eyes sharpened.

"Do you know how many years it took Popovich to build that San Antonio Spurs system?"

"Ten years."

"They spent ten years developing that chemistry, that kind of offense that's as pervasive as water."

"You want to defeat it in one game? Even God couldn't do that."

Lin Feng looked at the thick ice pack wrapped around Kobe's knee, and at his pale but still resolute face.

He suddenly understood.

His own strength was still far from enough.

Individual power, in the face of a true team system, would be infinitely weakened or even dismantled.

He wasn't yet strong enough to support the final pride of this legend on his own.

Lin Feng returned to his room.

He threw himself onto the bed and covered his eyes with his arm.

The room was pitch black, but his mind was filled with the shocking image of Kobe's knee.

His phone vibrated once on the pillow.

He picked it up; it was a message from Yoona.

"Are you okay? I saw the news... the game was lost, and... Kobe's injury..."

The message was full of worry.

Lin Feng stared at those words for a long time.

How should he reply?

Tell her that the game was a total disaster, and he was played like a fiddle by the opponent's system?

Tell her that the team's leader was resorting to self-destruction by taking painkilling injections just to play the next game?

He couldn't.

He took a deep breath and typed out a line of text.

"Everything's fine."

"It's just one loss; we'll win it back."

Clicked send.

He knew the situation was terrible.

G2 game day.

In the Los Angeles Lakers locker room, the atmosphere was suppressed to the extreme.

Everyone knew Kobe was playing with a serious injury.

The anger and resentment on the young players' faces had been replaced by a heavy worry.

D'Antoni stood before the tactical board, trying to arrange new tactics, but even he felt his voice lacked confidence.

Everyone's eyes involuntarily drifted toward the figure sitting in the corner.

Kobe was having the Team Doctor wrap his left knee with thick bandages and braces.

Layer after layer, it was like putting the final armor on a crumbling warrior.

The pep talk ended abruptly.

The players stood up and walked toward the tunnel.

Just in that dim area before entering the tunnel.

Kobe suddenly reached out and grabbed Lin Feng's arm.

His stride had a nearly imperceptible hitch.

He pulled Lin Feng aside; the surroundings were noisy with people, but his voice entered Lin Feng's ears clearly.

"I can still play, but what I can do this game is limited."

Kobe's eyes stared intently at Lin Feng; in them was the final, and also the absolute, hope.

"We must find a way to shatter their damn system."

"It's up to you, understand?"