Chapter 103: Nameless Fury

Everyone harbors a story, and Lin Fei was no exception. Yet, his tale seemed intricately tied to the enigmatic number 33.

“Eon! Baby!” Suddenly, those words echoed in Lin Fei’s mind.

The entire Warriors team still basked in the euphoric atmosphere of having just eliminated the Thunder, but moments later, they had to steel themselves for the imminent game.

The voice belonged to Terry, one of the league’s all-time best sixth men and among the sharpest trash-talkers active today. Many claimed that trash talk and physical altercations were intrinsic to NBA basketball, amplifying the intensity and spectacle of the game—and indeed, there was truth to that.

Lin Fei glanced at Terry with a faint, dismissive smile, utterly indifferent to the taunts.

Terry stood at 6’2”, while Lin Fei was officially listed at 6’0”, perhaps a slight exaggeration.

At tip-off, the Warriors deployed a dual point guard setup with Lin Fei and Curry, while the Mavericks started Barea alongside Kidd—both teams relying on two-point guard lineups. However, Terry entered the game after just four minutes.

In those first four minutes, Lin Fei attempted three shots, missing every one, and registered only a single assist.

Terry was the provocateur. Perhaps Lin Fei held some respect for Kidd, a legendary point guard of the league, but Terry commanded no such esteem.

After Terry’s taunt, Lin Fei smiled with disdain. Yet within a second, the outcome was clear—Lin Fei, still smiling, exploded forward in a swift first step, effortlessly blowing past Terry in a single move. This was a humiliation for many in the league, though some would excuse those beaten by Lin Fei, saying, “Being crossed over by Lin Fei is no disgrace; nearly anyone can be left behind by him in one step.”

Surging past Terry, Lin Fei took two strides toward the free-throw line. Most point guards in this position would opt for a floater, a trusty move. But Lin Fei rarely relied on such tactics; his game was built on jump shots and fast-break layups. Approaching the basket, with Chandler and Nowitzki guarding beneath, Lin Fei advanced one step further. Chandler hurriedly retreated but couldn’t control his footing after Lin Fei’s sudden stop—he stumbled out of bounds and fell. Given his height and speed, it was understandable.

Lin Fei rose into his shot as Nowitzki charged diagonally from the baseline, attempting to block. The towering defender’s leap was insufficient to reach the ball, thanks to Lin Fei having already faked out Chandler. Sensing the precarious flight of the ball, Lin Fei adjusted mid-air, lofting it with an even higher arc, banking it off the backboard—and it dropped in.

Lin Fei’s joy was palpable. Such a shot was challenging; most players struggled to alter their shooting arc without losing rhythm, yet Lin Fei not only attempted it but made it.

Scoring a basket was routine, but this one seemed to ignite Terry’s ire. On the Mavericks’ next possession, he demanded the ball from Kidd, signaling his teammates to spread out—he wanted to face Lin Fei one-on-one.

Lin Fei met the challenge without hesitation. “Bring it on! One-on-one? Who’s afraid?”

Terry dribbled, Lin Fei lowered his stance. Lin Fei had always feared physically imposing guards. Compared to others, Terry’s build was quite solid for a point guard.

But Lin Fei refused to show weakness.

Terry faked a step, but Lin Fei wasn’t fooled—he stuck closely. Terry retreated, then drove forward, but Lin Fei’s feet stayed glued, undeterred by real or fake moves. Frustrated, Terry decided to rely on brute force. Though mostly a finesse player, he seized the rare chance to overpower a smaller opponent.

Charging from the right, Terry barreled into Lin Fei. Despite Lin Fei’s lowered center of gravity, the physical mismatch was evident. With momentum on his side, Terry forced Lin Fei back three steps and calmly sank a jump shot, sneering, “Shirt.”

Lin Fei didn’t take the bait.

He regained possession but lacked offensive aggression, passing quickly to Curry, who nailed a three-pointer.

Kidd then exploited his own physical advantage, driving hard into Lin Fei and passing inside to Chandler, who caught and dunked with authority. Had Chandler been paired with an elite playmaker—Barrow, Nash, Kidd—he’d be the league’s most dazzling alley-oop artist.

Lin Fei once more handled the ball, this time facing full-court pressure. With Kidd aging and slowed, Terry matched up against Lin Fei.

As Lin Fei prepared to accelerate, Terry stood before him and spat out a classic American curse: “Fuck your girlfriend.”

Only two people knew those words—Terry, obviously, and Lin Fei, who stood closest.

Lin Fei’s normally composed, suave expression ignited instantly with fury. He slammed the ball directly at Terry.

Terry retaliated, charging forward for a fight. Lin Fei met him head-on, dodging a punch and landing one in return.

Teammates quickly intervened to separate them.

Was this the legendary, unprovoked fury? No one on the court understood what had sparked it. Had Lin Fei lost control of the ball? Impossible. His teammates were bewildered.

Lin Fei was known as a gentleman on the court, reminiscent of the “Gentleman’s Sword,” Ray Allen. So why this sudden madness?

The referees promptly handed out two technical fouls.

Throwing the ball at an opponent guaranteed a technical, and fighting usually meant ejection.

Everyone was stunned. Terry’s earlier insult had barely fazed Lin Fei, who had only smiled slightly—what could have triggered this explosive reaction?

After conferring, the officials ejected both players.

Unbelievable—Lin Fei rarely received technical fouls, let alone was thrown out of a game.