Chapter 111: The Trigger of Fury

The thunderous roar of the crowd stood in stark contrast to Lin Fei’s calm heart, while Kains was undoubtedly the loudest cheerleader on the court, rallying the fans with fervent shouts. Without a doubt, Kains might just be Lin Fei’s greatest admirer.

“Score! Score! Score!” The chants echoed again, soon joined by cries of “MVP! MVP!”

Three points! And this was only the beginning—a small spark igniting a blazing fire. Many held their breath, listening intently to the rhythm of this young man’s heart, as if trying to decipher the depth of his yearning to score.

The Mavericks launched their offense. Terry realized he might truly be unable to contain Lin Fei. The only way to restore balance was to strengthen his own attack.

Lin Fei’s defense was formidable. Though Terry was older, with decent speed and a physical advantage, his feints were mere trifles to Lin Fei. Even if Lin Fei were a step slow to start, he could still keep pace. Confident, Lin Fei shadowed Terry’s moves closely. Terry feigned left; Lin Fei adjusted accordingly. But Terry aimed to overpower—dribbling forward, taking two strides, then abruptly stopping. Lin Fei matched the stop, hesitated slightly, and Terry jumped for a mid-range shot, which swished through the net. At last, Terry found some semblance of balance, though the crowd greeted the basket with boos.

Still, Lin Fei was the star. Curry inbounded to him. Upon receiving the ball, Lin Fei seemed to shed all else, becoming a relentless wolf prowling the court. Against Terry’s defense, Lin Fei executed a series of classic fakes, effortlessly shaking him off. Next in line was Kidd, positioned near the half-court line. Lin Fei’s speed surged, unstoppable. Kidd, with nearly two decades of experience and unparalleled court vision, was revered league-wide. Yet the fans barely acknowledged him, knowing full well that if Lin Fei intended to pass Kidd, it was merely a matter of a single step.

Suddenly, as Lin Fei shifted direction, Kidd, without moving his body, grabbed Lin Fei’s jersey—committing a deliberate foul.

Shock rippled through everyone. How could a veteran point guard of Kidd’s caliber make such a blunder? They had all underestimated one of the league’s finest. Kidd had seen Lin Fei’s speed, his shooting prowess, his momentum. This foul was no gift; it was a calculated move to disrupt Lin Fei’s rhythm and halt the Warriors’ surging momentum.

Foul count still safe.

The Warriors had the ball in frontcourt. Curry passed directly to Lin Fei, who took two steps back, seemingly ready to orchestrate the offense. Terry guarded him cautiously, giving a step of space to avoid being burned by Lin Fei’s speed—a distance still within his defensive comfort zone despite his age.

Lin Fei held the ball, his gaze cold and piercing as he stared down Terry. The offense was set at half-court. Terry crouched low, ready.

Suddenly, Lin Fei accelerated down the right side. Terry retreated slowly, but as he took that step back, he realized Lin Fei was already pulling away. Lin Fei’s footwork was masterful—his ability to shift pace so swiftly was a rare talent possessed by only a handful in the league. At just the right distance, Lin Fei leapt. Terry’s eyes widened; Lin Fei’s fingers flicked lightly, and the ball sailed through the air like water brushing over silk. Terry did not even attempt to block—the shot was beyond reach. He could only watch as the ball arced gracefully above him, a perfect, soft curve that stirred a pang of panic in his heart.

Swish! A second three-pointer! Once more, it was Lin Fei, once more, Terry was left in his wake.

The crowd’s cries of “MVP!” grew deafening.

That shot ignited the fans’ adoration.

Terry’s anger flared—an unspoken fury. Over a decade and a half in the league, no one had ever dared to show such arrogance in front of him. Most infuriatingly, this was a mere sophomore rookie. Lin Fei was the league’s newly crowned Sixth Man of the Year, and Terry himself ranked among the most lethal sixth men in history. Yet today, it seemed the rookie was about to outshine him completely.

Terry called a timeout.

He needed calm. He needed to regain composure. Never before had he faced such unease against any opponent. This game, it seemed, revolved around his matchup with Lin Fei, but he was rattled.

As the Mavericks’ head coach watched the Warriors face the Thunder, he had already begun noticing Lin Fei. Due to missed games, his understanding was incomplete. In their first clash, Lin Fei had yet to reveal his true threat. Today, from Lin Fei’s performance and Terry’s evident panic, it was clear just how terrifying this young man was.

They had to assign a dedicated defender.

Kidd was no match. Terry was no match. Perhaps Banya could do it. Deploy the Mavericks’ speedy guard Banya on Lin Fei, and have Terry guard Curry. At the same time, the team’s offense needed a full ignition—Nowitzki, Terry, Marion—all engines firing to counter the Warriors’ firepower.

Meanwhile, the Warriors switched to Curry handling the ball.

Swift movement! Lin Fei instantly cut to the three-point line at a 45-degree angle. The other Warriors players were still positioning. Lin Fei fixed his gaze on the basket, as if lost in a dream. Banya surged forward, clinging fiercely to Lin Fei. Even if Lin Fei didn’t receive the ball, he could not be allowed the chance to catch it—this was the Mavericks coach’s strict order.

Curry organized at midcourt. From a team perspective, Curry was the true playmaker; Lin Fei, more of a pure shooting guard who, perhaps due to his passion for scoring, sometimes seemed to forget his role as a facilitator.

Curry signaled for Jobs to set a pick. Jobs came up, Curry faked a drive. When Jobs reached the high post, he suddenly reversed direction, charging toward the basket. Nowitzki followed close behind. Curry passed quickly to Jobs, who nudged the ball mid-air toward Lin Fei.

Lin Fei was already charging from the three-point line, likely aiming to grab a rebound. The sudden pass caught him off guard—the moment of opportunity had arrived. Banya was swiftly left behind.

Lin Fei caught the ball, dribbled once, and leapt.

Nowitzki turned just in time to see Lin Fei barreling in. But even the great Nowitzki could barely pivot fast enough to face him. Standing immense and broad, Nowitzki was no small obstacle, but Lin Fei powered forward, soaring skyward. He seemed to ride over half of Nowitzki’s massive frame, slamming the ball fiercely into the hoop.

The arena fell silent—no chants of MVP this time. Then, after a brief pause of about three seconds, a wave of applause erupted.

Could it really be Lin Fei? Dunking over Nowitzki? Impossible. Lin Fei was barely over 180 cm, while Nowitzki stood over 211 cm. Yet here it was, undeniable. Lin Fei’s physical prowess and leaping ability defied belief. The only explanation was that Lin Fei possessed an extraordinary power. His fierce expression and relentless offense made it clear—such a dunk was not a miracle but a natural display of his might.

Lin Fei’s explosive performance had already stretched the Mavericks’ lead to sixteen points, and the first quarter was still underway.

Nowitzki wore a look of helplessness—perhaps reflecting on the relentless march of new talent, the swift passage of time, or simply the staggering genius of Lin Fei.

Lin Fei, with his usual steely gaze, glanced back at Terry, as if to say, “The best is yet to come.”