Chapter 14: The Sixth Battle Begins

7:30 PM.

With the sharp sound of the referee's whistle, Game Six of the Finals officially began.

Jiangning's center, Han Dajun, and Beicheng's center, Chen Xi, faced off at center court for the jump ball. Han Dajun, using his height advantage, tipped the ball back toward Jiangning's half. Lin Feng leapt high and secured the game's first possession.

No sooner had Lin Feng grasped the ball than Randall lunged at him.

"Kid, tonight I'll show you just how vast the gulf between us really is!" Randall spat out his taunt, all while keeping his defensive stance tight—clearly, he'd come prepared.

Lin Feng's lips curled into a cold smile as he swiftly dribbled past half-court. On the basketball court, the best response to a provocation is simple: score.

"Going for a three-pointer? Go ahead and shoot! God won't favor you like last game!" Randall continued his jeering.

"I've never needed any so-called god on my side—my strength is all that matters!"

Suddenly, Lin Feng accelerated his dribble, then soared into the air—launching a three-pointer!

No way! He's actually shooting! And from this far out? He's barely past half-court!

As Lin Feng released the shot, a gasp swept through the home crowd. Though Lin Feng had already demonstrated his three-point prowess in the previous game, the Jiangning fans had only witnessed it on television. Now, seeing it live—the shock was incomparable.

With the crowd's exclamations rising like a wave, the ball traced a beautiful arc through the arena and—swish!—dropped cleanly through the net.

The arena erupted!

No one had expected Lin Feng to open the game with such a thunderous, long-range three-pointer.

The home fans' fervor instantly ignited. Those wearing Lin Feng's number 11 jersey beamed with pride, excitedly showing off their shirts to friends.

"A deep three!" shouted the arena DJ, as the stadium's special three-point siren blared, reserved only for such moments.

"Opening the game with a three-pointer—Lin Feng's touch is blazing hot!"

"And that three was just outrageous! He shot it a full two meters behind the line!"

"That's why fans now call him 'Divine Feng.'"

"Divine indeed!"

The national TV commentators Duan Wei and Liu Nan, calling the game live, could not hide their admiration for Lin Feng's shot.

On the court, after sinking the three, Lin Feng flashed Randall a smile and held up three fingers. "That's three points already."

Randall, face dark with frustration, muttered a curse and jogged back for the inbound.

Beicheng attacked. At the top of the arc, Randall and Chen Xi ran a pick and roll, their trademark play. But Shen Ziqiang had meticulously planned Jiangning's defense against it. As Randall drove to the basket, Jiangning's power forward, Wu Xiaoxu, rotated over, leaping to deliver a thunderous block!

The ball was swatted out beyond the arc, landing right in front of Lin Feng.

Snatching the ball, Lin Feng sprinted over half-court, stopping just a step beyond the three-point line.

Again?

The moment Lin Feng came to a halt, everyone seemed to sense what was coming.

Sure enough—another three-pointer!

The net snapped—it's in!

Not even thirty seconds into the game, Jiangning led 6–0.

"Deep three!" the DJ roared once more, and the siren blared again, signaling a home-team triple.

"That's the second time the alarm's sounded—let's see how many times it rings tonight!"

"Lin Feng's two threes are simply ruthless!"

Commentator Liu Nan looked both awestruck and incredulous.

Beicheng inbounded the ball. Randall brought it up, this time passing inside to Chen Xi, who tried a hook shot over Han Dajun. The ball bounced off; Wu Xiaoxu snagged the rebound and hurled it to Harris.

Seeing a fast-break opportunity, Lin Feng sprinted to the right corner. Harris, planning to attack the rim, spotted Lin Feng wide open beyond the arc and passed him the ball.

Lin Feng caught it and fired without hesitation.

The net snapped again—it was good!

"Deep three!" The siren screamed for a third time, and the home crowd went wild.

Less than a minute into the game, Lin Feng had already hit three consecutive threes for nine points.

Wang Chunsheng, standing courtside, looked ashen. He called a timeout immediately—down 9–0 at the start, he had to make changes before the game got out of hand in the first quarter.

"Wang is calling a timeout—let's see how he adjusts. Lin Feng is simply on another level tonight."

"They'll probably double-team him now. With Lin Feng this hot, they can't let him shoot again!"

"I'm really curious—just how did Lin Feng develop this three-point shot? The ball seems enchanted in his hands, every release homing in on the center of the rim."

"Yesterday there was a piece about Lin Feng, saying he broke up with his girlfriend about two months ago and then spent over a month practicing day and night—that's how we got the Lin Feng of today."

"I missed that story, but if it's true, then the people Jiangning—team and fans alike—should thank most are Lin Feng's ex-girlfriend. Without her, there'd be no Lin Feng as we see him now!"

"Ha! Who knows if that's true or not!"

The commentators even chatted about Lin Feng's personal life, but this wasn't considered out of bounds; in this era, television stations allowed much looser content. As long as the discussion stayed neutral, sports commentators could talk about anything.

The game resumed.

Beicheng inbounded from the backcourt, organizing their offense; once more, Randall initiated, running another pick and roll with Chen Xi.

Randall drove inside, but Jiangning's defense collapsed on him. He whipped the ball to Yang Dong, lurking wide open in the left corner.

Yang Dong caught and shot a three.

The ball clanged hard off the front rim—a brick.

"Beicheng's whole team is ice cold tonight," the commentator sighed.

Wu Xiaoxu had already collected the rebound and fired it up to Lin Feng, who passed ahead to Harris. Harris, stopping just beyond the arc, pulled up.

The net snapped—a three!

12–0!

A minute and a half in, Jiangning already led by twelve.

"Deep three!" With Harris's shot, the siren blared for a fourth time.

"As predicted, Harris is hot too!"

"Now Beicheng's in real trouble. Lin Feng alone is hard enough to stop—now Harris is hitting threes as well. They're in deep water!"

On the court, Randall brought up the ball, frustration etched on his face. This start was beyond anything he could have imagined—especially Lin Feng, who had already sunk three threes for nine points.

He had boasted before the game that he'd hold Lin Feng under ten points. Now, that was impossible. Even if Lin Feng went cold, there was no way he'd be shut out the rest of the way.

"Damn it!" The more Randall thought about it, the more agitated he became, to the point of distraction.

Lin Feng, watching him closely, seized the moment—stripping the ball from Randall's hands.

"My tenth point is coming right up!"

After the steal, Lin Feng shot Randall a contemptuous smile and dashed past half-court.

"I won't let you score again!" Randall sprinted after him, reaching to foul Lin Feng early. But he was a step too slow. As soon as his hand caught Lin Feng, Lin Feng released yet another three.

A near-perfect arc soared through the air—it's good!

At that moment, the referee's whistle sounded.

Beicheng's number 9, Randall—unsportsmanlike foul!