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墨書 Inktalez
Before the fourth quarter began, a subtle yet crucial change had swept through the atmosphere of the arena.
The noise from the audience gradually faded, replaced by a low-frequency hiss, as if the air was being compressed, suffocating everyone’s breath like the calm before a storm. The rhythm of the glow sticks slowed down, and even the live broadcast felt a strange delay—like some invisible hand was quietly altering the logic of the game.
Mother Zhang's laptop had been closed.
The operation was complete. She left behind a cold remark:
"Accounting is not for settling bills; it’s for settling scores."
At this moment, the entire digital system of the venue had been subtly adjusted by her "Default Process." The broadcast feed experienced slight delays, food deliveries to the audience were halted, and even the Heavenly Kings Team's exclusive cheerleading section was abruptly canceled due to "accounting issues."
It wasn't just the logistical systems that were affected; the atmosphere in the arena began to shift as well.
The crowd that had been cheering for KD suddenly erupted into low boos. They hadn’t truly changed their stance; rather, a more powerful social psychology was quietly taking hold.
The origin of all this wasn’t just Mother Zhang’s manipulative hand over the accounts—it was Zhang Jianing’s hauntingly vague soul sermon that was becoming a catalyst for a collective subconscious transformation.
"You know, this game is just a dream, right?" she stood at the sidelines, hands clasped together like a sacred priestess.
"You support KD because you project your desire to fight against the system; you support Harden because you fear that you have never truly been free. The boos aren’t because you hate them—it’s because you’re beginning to hate that part of yourself that refuses to face reality."
Her voice wasn’t loud, yet it felt like she was whispering in everyone’s ears. The audience began to look at each other, their gazes filled with doubt, confusion, and even a hint of self-defensive anxiety.
"They are not heroes; they are parts of you that you dare not acknowledge." Zhang Jianing continued, her eyes closed and arms outstretched, as if she could see the cracks in their souls.
"So you choose to boo because you fear the truth will win."
The first wave of spontaneous boos began to ripple through the audience.
At first, it was just a few scattered remarks. When Bill stepped onto the court, someone shouted, "Are you guys pulling some backstage tricks? Why has the game suddenly stopped for so long?"
On the other side, as KD received the ball, a few spectators who had been chanting for him to be MVP began to mutter, "So arrogant! Just scored two baskets and acting like that..."
After Harden's turnover, the home crowd erupted in laughter, "What a ridiculous retreat!"
Before the game could restart, the atmosphere had completely shifted.
The players felt it.
KD looked puzzled at the stands; he knew he had just made three consecutive shots without any mistakes, but why did it feel like someone was labeling him in the air?
Bill frowned. He had always thought of himself as a supporting player, and the audience had been kind to him. But at that moment, he heard someone shout, "What are you pretending to be, the chosen shooter? You can't even carry the protagonist's aura!"
Even Harden, during an attempt to drive past his defender, heard someone yell from the sidelines, "Why don't you hurry back to the Rockets!"
Meanwhile, on the Trick Team's side, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Curry began to smile and interact with the audience; he even made a heart gesture towards a young fan, prompting cheers from the crowd.
Tatum started encouraging his teammates, "We can hold this down; this is our home court! The crowd is on our side!"
Poole jumped up and shouted, "I told you! I'm the real star of this game!!"
Mother Zhang sat in the back, gently bringing her fingertips together as if completing a cult-like ritual.
"You don't need to win over the crowd; just make them doubt who they once loved."
At that moment, Jay Chou on the sidelines sensed something was off. He looked towards the stands with fire in his eyes.
He knew it wasn't the players' fault. The atmosphere had been poisoned.
He walked over to Harden, Bill, and KD, his tone slow yet firm: "Don't respond to the boos. We'll wake them up with our actions."
KD nodded, but there was a simmering anger in his eyes. Bill began to take deep breaths, as if he were about to tear through the air with the next shot. Harden shook his head, "This game... has taken a turn."
The referee raised his hand to signal the restart of the game; the fourth quarter was officially underway.
Mother Zhang slowly turned her head, looking at the electronic scoreboard, and whispered, "Come on, let them drown in their own noise."
As the first play of the fourth quarter was about to unfold, trust was crumbling, the audience was shifting, and the five Heavenly Kings now had to find meaning in a game marred by hostility and manipulation.
The moment the whistle blew for the fourth quarter, the air turned cold.
No longer were there boiling cheers or star-like welcomes. The Heavenly Kings Team stood on the court, seeming less like players and more like prisoners sentenced to an invisible death. The boos from the crowd surged from all directions, like a tide, like barbed wire—there was no escape.
Harden stood at the point guard position, signaling a play with his hand, but the noise around him was too overwhelming; Bill misheard and ran to the wrong spot. Harden made a fake move to drive in, but his expected support was absent. He had no choice but to force a shot that bounced off the rim. Tatum grabbed the rebound, turned around, and passed it; Curry was already poised on the other end.
Curry received the ball and shot with a half-turn—his three-pointer struck like a missile, decisively exploding into the core of the Heavenly Kings' confidence.
89:86.
The crowd erupted with cheers like a tsunami; someone shouted, "They've already crumbled!"
Jay Chou stood on the sidelines, his brow furrowed. He knew they had to get through this quarter not relying on talent but on heart. But now, cracks were beginning to show in the players' eyes.
On the next offensive play, KD received the ball and prepared to take on Tatum one-on-one. The boos from the crowd roared in KD's ears like an amplifier: "You're not MVP! You're just a snake!"
KD remained unaffected as he dribbled forward, but Tatum stood his ground, showcasing immense physicality. KD attempted a fadeaway shot, only to be met with a powerful block from LeBron at the last moment, sending the ball crashing back to the floor.
Wembanyama seized the rebound and sprinted down the court, finishing with a two-handed dunk that sent the crowd into a frenzy.
91:86.
The bench of the Heavenly Kings Team fell into silence.
Harden stood panting in place as the audience began to mimic his step-back move, taunting him with jeers.
"How much longer can you step back? Why not just step back home!"
Meanwhile, Poole was putting on a show on the court, breaking through defenses, executing step-backs, and hitting Logo Shots. After one basket, he even ran over to the stands to high-five fans as if it were a concert.
At that moment, Mother Zhang was seated in the VIP Box, holding a glass of red wine, as if the game had already concluded. Her laptop beside her displayed a line of text:
[Public Opinion Control: Successful]
[Exposure of "Heavenly Kings Team Collapse" Keywords: +1720%]
Zhang Jianing ascended to the highest point of the stands, arms wide open like a preacher, shouting:
"Let us release our obsessions! Let us abandon our worship of heroes! From today onward, no more blind faith! No more idolizing the kings!"
Strangely enough, many spectators began to echo her slogan: "We no longer believe in gods; we only believe in scores!"
This was no longer a game; it was a cultural revolution.
Bill made another aggressive drive into the Restricted Area but was met with Wembanyama's rejection mid-air, sending the ball out of bounds. As Bill fell to the ground and got back up, he heard someone from the crowd shout, "The sixth man should sit on the bench!"
KD received the ball and began pushing up from the backcourt. All that remained were heavy footsteps and skeptical gazes from the audience. He reached beyond the three-point line and prepared to shoot when suddenly—
Poole shadowed him closely, making a lateral cut and snatching the ball away!
Poole sprinted down the court, soaring for a dunk, hanging onto the rim with both hands, shouting, "This is mine! Your era is over!"
93:86.
The Heavenly Kings Team had gone five minutes without scoring.
Jay Chou called a timeout, and the players returned to the bench, exhaustion etched on their faces. Bill sat silently with his head down, Harden repeatedly rubbed his palms on his knees, while KD looked up at the big screen, as if questioning the very nature of the world.
Taking a deep breath, Jay Chou approached them in silence. He opened the tactical board and slowly wrote three words:
"Remember yourselves."
He looked at each player, speaking clearly and deliberately:
"It's not about being liked; it's about being unforgettable."
"Now, it's time to strike back."
The crowd continued to boo loudly, but the Heavenly Kings Team slowly rose to their feet. Harden's gaze began to sharpen, Bill clenched his fists, and KD took a deep breath, as if inhaling all the noise in the arena and transforming it into fury.
With six minutes and two seconds left in the game, the Heavenly Kings Team trailed by seven points.
Yet something different ignited in their eyes.
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