Chapter 041: A Familiar Script

106 to 87!

With Lin Feng's three-pointer, the gap was pulled back within twenty points.

The once-boisterous home court fell silent after Lin Feng's shot.

Though the home fans were reluctant to admit it, at this moment, a sense of crisis pressed down upon them.

"First shot after coming onto the court, and he nails it. Lin Feng's touch is scorching!"

"Yeah, that shot reminds me of Game Five of the finals. Who knows, maybe today we'll witness another miracle!"

After finishing his attack, Lin Feng didn't retreat for defense. Instead, he launched a pressing fight right where he stood. Thanks to the skill points he invested in speed, he was much faster now. Coupled with the lackadaisical attitude of the Beicheng team's inbounder, Lin Feng seized the opportunity and completed a steal.

After snatching the ball, Lin Feng didn't charge into the paint but instead dribbled back beyond the three-point line.

"No way, is he going for it again?"

Seeing Lin Feng step behind the arc, the home fans' hearts leapt into their throats.

Sure enough, Lin Feng jumped and fired another three.

Swish!

A familiar sound, a familiar trajectory.

The ball went in!

106 to 90!

In just over twenty seconds, Lin Feng sank two consecutive three-pointers, shrinking the gap to sixteen points!

With 4 minutes and 28 seconds left in the game, the Jiangning team, once teetering on the brink, seemed to have been pulled back from the edge.

"It's in again! No wonder the Jiangning fans call him 'Divine Feng'!"

"Those two threes just brought the suspense back into the game. Beicheng needs to be careful."

"Coach Wang called a timeout. Let's see how he responds."

"From the last two matches, it's nearly impossible to shut down Lin Feng's three-point shooting—unless you never let him touch the ball!"

"Yeah, I checked—his three-point percentage in the last two games is a staggering 87%. That means for every ten shots, nine go in. Against such terrifying accuracy, all defense seems powerless."

The timeout ended.

Players returned to the court.

Beicheng controlled the ball. With only seven seconds left on the shot clock, Randall finally launched an attack, but under Jiangning's tight defense, his shot clanked off the rim.

Jiangning inbounded from the backcourt. Lin Feng advanced quickly, and before the defenders could get in position, he rose and fired a three.

The ball soared through the air, spanning nearly half the court, before landing precisely in the basket...

It's good!

106 to 93!

Four minutes remained, and the gap had shrunk to thirteen points.

"My god, are you kidding? That went in?"

"Lin Feng must be on something!"

"Can we even play fair anymore?"

"Damn, don't tell me there's going to be another comeback!"

Lin Feng's three-pointer was earth-shattering, and its impact rippled through the stadium.

"Heavens! I really want to know—what is Lin Feng's range limit?"

"Incredible! I've seen him hit plenty of threes, but from this distance? That's a first. The defenders weren't even prepared!"

"I can only say this is beyond the realm of ordinary humans. No normal basketball player would do such a thing."

Even the commentator was stunned by Lin Feng's ultra-long-range three.

Yet after sinking the shot, Lin Feng's face remained expressionless as he calmly retreated on defense, resembling a cold-blooded assassin.

Beicheng organized another attack, adjusting their approach and pushing the ball inside. Chen Xi drove for a layup, drawing a foul from Han Dajun and earning two free throws—unfortunately, he made only one.

107 to 93!

Jiangning inbounded from the baseline. This time, Randall stuck to Lin Feng like glue, refusing to let him touch the ball. Zhou Mingxuan had no choice but to pass to Harris, who advanced past half-court.

Han Dajun came up to set a screen for Harris, who seized the opportunity and cut inside. Randall switched to help, leaving Lin Feng open. Harris swung the ball to Lin Feng in the corner.

Lin Feng caught it and launched another three.

It's good!

107 to 96!

The gap was now only eleven points.

Coach Wang Chunsheng called another timeout.

"Guard Lin Feng! Do you understand? It doesn't matter if anyone else gets open, but you can't let Lin Feng go! Randall, what the hell kind of defense was that?!"

"Next possession, front Lin Feng—don't let him catch the ball. If he does, double-team him immediately and force him to pass!"

...

The game resumed.

Beicheng executed a superb team play. Randall scored with a layup.

10s96!

The gap was stretched back to thirteen, stabilizing Beicheng's position for the moment.

Yet before the home crowd's cheers could fade, Lin Feng answered with another ultra-long three.

10s99!

The gap was instantly cut to ten.

Three minutes and seven seconds remained!

"My god, another three-pointer! That's the fifth! Lin Feng's response was ruthless!"

"Yeah, the home fans hadn't even recovered before he dropped another three." Liu Nan chimed in, adding, "I noticed something even more interesting. There are three minutes and seven seconds left—just like in Game Five of the finals, when Lin Feng entered the court with exactly three minutes and seven seconds remaining. The gap was ten points back then, too. This script feels awfully familiar!"

"Now that you mention it, that's true! Let's all watch together and see if the miracle happens again!"

"Another steal, and once again it's Lin Feng..."

"Randall's passing lane was completely read by Lin Feng!"

"Let's see if there's another three..."

"He shoots again! My god, it's in! And Randall fouled him on the chase! That's a 3+1!"

...

As Lin Feng drained yet another three, the home crowd fell utterly silent. The entire stadium was steeped in an awkward hush, except for the jubilant celebrations erupting from the Jiangning bench.

Lin Feng stepped to the line for his free throw.

A storm of boos erupted.

Unfazed, Lin Feng calmly sank the shot.

10s103!

Jiangning trailed by only six.

Coach Wang Chunsheng was forced to call another timeout.

Two minutes and forty-nine seconds remained.

Lin Feng returned to the bench, embraced by his teammates.

Though they'd witnessed Lin Feng's supernatural three-point prowess in the previous two games, seeing him drag the team back from the abyss once again left them unable to contain their excitement.

As professional players, who doesn't dream of a championship?

"Don't celebrate too soon—the game isn't over, and we're still behind!" Head coach Shen Ziqiang kept his cool, dousing the team's enthusiasm and quickly laying out the next tactical plan.

The game resumed.

Beicheng launched another attack, failing to score, though they did run down the full 24 seconds.

"Beicheng's playing too conservatively. With nearly three minutes left, their priority shouldn't be burning time—it should be scoring. They need to play for success!"

"Exactly. It's not like they're leading by twenty anymore. With three minutes left and a six-point gap, there's plenty of time!"

"Watch Jiangning's next possession."

"Lin Feng dribbling—Beicheng is double-teaming him. What's he going to do?"

"My god, he's firing another three over two defenders!"

"Missed! The shot was a bit short."

"That's Lin Feng's first miss of the night!"

"But there's a rebound—Han Dajun hustled for it and passed it back to Lin Feng."

"He shoots again, another three! This time, no defender in front!"

"It's good!"

"It's in!"

"That's Lin Feng's seventh three-pointer of the game!"

"10s106!"

"Down to just three points!"

"Oh my god, this script is so familiar!"

...