Chapter Eighty-Five: Rage and Blood on the Court

At that moment, the Warriors were on offense with Lin Fei bringing the ball up, and he could sense that the Thunder’s alignment had changed. Their defense no longer seemed coordinated, and stranger still, Russell Westbrook was no longer the one guarding him.

With a burst of speed, Lin Fei blew past his man, leaving the defender stumbling behind him. As always, the referee sprinted forward in pursuit and failed to notice what happened. Even when a defender could not keep up footwork-wise, hands and feet together made things far easier. The man guarding Lin Fei gave him the lightest shove from behind just as he had already gone by. Lin Fei had been dribbling in rhythm while accelerating, but that slight push sent the ball straight off his foot. Westbrook seized the chance and stole it cleanly.

Lin Fei whirled around and charged straight at the defender.

"Get out! Get out!" he roared, his voice booming. The man guarding him was Sefolosha, nearly half a head taller than Lin Fei and far more muscular. But Lin Fei was raging now and cared for nothing. He went straight at him.

Sefolosha glared at Lin Fei and raised his fist at once. This was an insult of the highest order. This Chinese kid was actually using American street abuse right in front of him. He was courting death.

Thunder players rushed over at once to stop Sefolosha, while Lin Fei, still burning with anger, kept shouting, "Come on!" No one knew why Lin Fei had suddenly become so furious. It was hard to believe this had anything to do with the courteous, gentlemanly image he usually gave off.

No one knew what was going on; they could only keep pulling the two apart.

"Oh! Looks like this little guy has some real fire in him. I like it! Heh heh!" the commentator seemed rather approving of Lin Fei’s outburst.

The referee assessed a technical foul. Possession remained with the Thunder.

Keep calm! Nelson immediately took Lin Fei out.

At such a crucial moment, Lin Fei was benched. He now had four fouls and one technical.

One had to wonder whether the Thunder coach was laughing under his breath. What a profit this was: a nonstarter on their side had just sent the other team’s centerpiece to the bench. At the very least, it gave them a chance.

With an opportunity like this, how could they waste it? With Lin Fei gone, the Warriors’ defense should have improved, yet there was no sign of it. Perhaps the Thunder’s momentum was simply too overwhelming, and at least for now, they were playing without the burden of fear.

Durant went up against Kane and drew foul after foul on drive after drive. Kane’s personal foul total climbed to four. Though his defense was resolute, Durant still could not be stopped. Ax had already collected three, and most of those fouls came against Durant, because the league’s scoring king was simply too hard to contain. Durant had already piled up fourteen points from free throws alone, and with his field goals added, he had twenty-four. Lin Fei, meanwhile, stood at seventeen, meaning he now trailed Durant by twenty-three points in the scoring race.

The Warriors’ fast breaks began to fail one after another, as if they had been struck by some spell. For four straight minutes, they failed to score a single point. The Thunder quickly closed the gap, with Durant leading the charge through a mix of shots and free throws. After that scoring surge, Durant also checked out to rest, waiting for the final showdown.

By the end of the third quarter, the Warriors led by one, while Durant had extended his lead over Lin Fei to twenty-four points on the scoring chart.

It was almost a miracle beyond creation. Even if Durant were to go scoreless in the final quarter, Lin Fei still had almost no hope. On the bench, Lin Fei remained standing the entire time, unable to calm himself. That technical foul had been the turning point.

The points I lost, I will bring them back.

A fierce, murderous aura rose again on Lin Fei’s face. Even sitting on the bench, every second felt like agony. The longer the pain lasted, the denser the killing intent around him became.

When the fourth quarter began, Nelson still did not put Lin Fei back in. Was it still not the right time? But that was not what worried Lin Fei. He knew the coach would give him his chance. Even the reserves on both sides were battling with exceptional intensity, and even the commentator said this was a game worthy of the playoffs.

Four minutes into the fourth quarter, timeout.

Lin Fei returned to the court, with Kane paired with him in the backcourt.

Lin Fei brought the ball up. His eyes were bloodshot, and a faint trace of sweat remained in his hair, making him look less like a basketball player and more like a killer. He was no longer entirely himself, his eyes burning red with rage, yet beneath it all there was still a strange calmness, and within that calmness, a thread of anger.

He advanced quickly with the ball, facing Westbrook head-on. With a rapid change of direction, Lin Fei moved so sharply that one could barely see the path of the ball; only his body could be seen swaying in constant motion. The ball seemed to obey his hands in a burst of dazzling, almost impossible flickers.

Such flashy dribbling was not really Lin Fei’s style. He preferred directness and crisp efficiency. But now he needed every feint he could muster to deceive his opponent. After changing direction, he suddenly shifted to the right. Westbrook sprinted to stay with him. Then Lin Fei stepped back and crossed left. Westbrook was momentarily dazed. When he finally understood, the ball in Lin Fei’s hand was already at its highest point. It arced backward in a smooth, rapid release and flew toward the basket.

It went in.

Lin Fei thumped his chest hard, like a gorilla displaying his strength.

Durant also checked back in and again faced Kane. He drove quickly, but Kane used his body to hold him off with everything he had. As Durant went up for the layup, a reflexive instinct to protect the ball made him swing an elbow, striking Kane squarely in the face. Blood immediately spilled from Kane’s mouth. The referee called an offensive foul. In truth, no one could say for certain who had committed the foul, but Kane was injured, and that naturally earned the referee’s sympathy.

Kane had to leave the game. A real man! many people sighed.

"Brother, it’s on you now," Kane said to Lin Fei through clenched lips.

Lin Fei looked at his brother and nodded fiercely. Kane insisted on staying on the sideline instead of heading to the locker room. Even if all he could do was watch, he wanted to watch this game to the end, because it belonged to them, to him and his brothers.

Victory. At this moment, that was the only belief.

The arena lights were blinding.

Curry came onto the floor and took the ball. Lin Fei’s expression remained icy, as though he had just been soaked in freezing water.

One point ahead, a twenty-four-point gap, and eight minutes left. Three striking numbers.

Westbrook was guarding Curry. Curry drove, Westbrook stayed with him, and at that moment Lin Fei appeared behind Curry like a ghost. Curry passed the ball back. Lin Fei barely stopped his momentum before rising into the shot. His release may well have once again broken his own record. All you could see was a faint tremor from his fingertips.

The ball traced a beautiful arc.