Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
With two minutes and twenty-seven seconds left in the first quarter, Poole ignited not just the game, but humanity's adoration for chaos.
He wasn't playing basketball; he was dancing, rapping, putting on a concert. Each shot he took radiated an aura of "I'm cool and I'm right," and after every basket, he would lean towards the defender and softly say, "It's not your fault; it's fate."
Three consecutive three-pointers, two driving floaters, and a fast-break dunk—Poole scored 13 points in just three minutes!
The score: 31-15.
The defense of the Heavenly Kings Team couldn't keep up with his nimble footwork that seemed to flail like a rag. His dribbling resembled that of a drunken sprite playing the violin on the court.
Harden shook his head, gasping, "Damn, I might as well retire."
KD frowned, resting his hands on his knees. "I thought I had seen the toughest players... turns out this guy is from an alternate universe."
Jay Chou's face was as dark as piano keys before a storm. Gripping his nunchaku tightly, he muttered through clenched teeth:
"This isn't just a game... this is Poole's solo act of madness."
At that moment, the Heavenly Kings Team's restricted area fell apart once more. Poole feigned a pass before executing a pull-up jumper in mid-air, sending the crowd into a frenzy that made the entire floor vibrate.
"This is what it feels like to be the main character! Come on—Trick Team, let’s go—I’m just getting warmed up!"
The Heavenly Kings Team was in complete disarray.
The atmosphere felt like a luxury cruise ship sinking into the depths of the sea while the players were still lost in their cabins.
But just then—
In the front row of the audience, a familiar shadow slowly stood up.
It was a man wearing golden sunglasses, dressed in black with a stern expression. His face bore the scars of years of technical fouls and conflicts with players.
He was once the mastermind behind the Golden State Warriors.
He once roared like thunder on the court.
He—was Draymond Green.
The audience fell silent for a moment, the camera automatically focusing on him as he slowly raised his fist, as large as a sandbag, pointing directly at—Giannis Antetokounmpo.
He didn’t say much; he simply shouted:
“JUST. DO. IT.”
In that instant, Giannis Antetokounmpo's pupils dilated.
He understood.
This wasn’t about Nike, nor was it an advertisement.
It was about fists, about fury, about those moments on the basketball court when one must also moonlight as a boxer!
He recalled the time when Harden was at the baseline without the ball and got hit on the head by Artest (now known as Metta World Peace) with a ruthless elbow, collapsing to the ground, his memory hazy—but that punch had opened up his meridians, turning him into the ultimate step-back creator.
Giannis Antetokounmpo looked down at his fists and slowly clenched them.
He knew he could no longer rely on technique to combat madness; he had to respond with primal instinct to everything that came his way.
On the next offensive play, Poole attempted to replicate his previous move, dribbling between his legs three times before retreating in front of Giannis Antetokounmpo. But just as he prepared to turn—
Bang!!!
Giannis Antetokounmpo collided with him shoulder-first, like an African antelope charging at a lion, sending Poole spinning 270 degrees in mid-air before flying out of bounds.
The referee's whistle blew, and the crowd erupted!
A technical foul!? A flagrant foul!?
No—the referee actually called an offensive foul for flopping!
Poole’s exaggerated spin in mid-air led the referee to believe he was overacting.
On the sidelines, Draymond Green shouted, “YES! I taught him that move! A player can commit a foul, but they can’t let their opponent win the narrative!”
Poole lay on the ground, his face expressing confusion as if he were questioning whether he had just been too dramatic, his movements reminiscent of a scene from "Dance Dance Revolution: Cosmic Edition."
Beal looked at the sprawled Poole, took a breath, and chuckled, "Even a madman can fall."
KD immediately took the ball and initiated the next fast break. Jokic set a high screen, and Harden circled around to receive the pass, launching a jump shot—
Swish!
31:17.
Poole remained on the floor, a half-smile on his lips that seemed to say, "I am the protagonist." Though he wasn't genuinely hurt, his dramatic pose was so theatrical that some spectators began to shout, "This scene could be cut into a movie trailer!"
Initially, the referee did not blow the whistle and even made a gesture indicating a flop. The crowd erupted in excitement, and the morale of the Heavenly Kings Team surged.
But in that moment—
Mother Zhang made her move.
She gently picked up her rose gold phone from the VIP seat, dialed a number, and while no one could hear her voice, she stood up calmly, took a sip of red wine, and whispered to the court:
"This isn't just basketball; this is power basketball."
In less than ten seconds, the referee suddenly blew his whistle, his expression turning serious.
The head referee turned to the scorers' table:
"The collision against Poole just now—level two flagrant foul rescinded and changed to a regular foul, but two free throw opportunities awarded to the Trick Team."
The audience was left in shock, while an ESPN commentator at the sidelines questioned reality: "What does this mean? Wasn't he just called for a flop? How did he suddenly become the victim?"
Zhang Jianing sat calmly on the bench, holding a book titled "Collective Blindness of Humanity and Subconscious Manipulation." She smiled and said:
"If the truth is hard to prove, then we will create consensus."
Impatiently waiting for the whistle from his position on the ground, Poole sprang up at the mention of free throws, moving faster than if he had been called to receive an award.
"I've always said, I'm the core of the story!"
He stood at the free-throw line, sinking the first shot and easily making the second, continuing to widen the score.
33:17.
The atmosphere on the sidelines of the Heavenly Kings Team dropped sharply. Jay Chou, suppressing his anger, approached the referee and said, "That call is outrageous."
The referee coldly replied, "We're just making adjustments based on the footage. Please return to the coach's area."
At that moment, the gap between justice and deceit became apparent once again.
To make matters worse—Giannis Antetokounmpo had two fouls against him. To ensure he could play in the later stages of the game, he had to take a break.
Jay Chou patted his back and softly said, "You did well. Now it's time for the spirit to take over."
Giannis returned to the bench with a look of reluctance, like a fierce beast unable to join the fight.
Next, Jay Chou turned his gaze to Luka Doncic on the bench.
"Luca!"
Luka Doncic stood up, a mischievous smile curling at his lips.
"It's my turn to shine."
He stepped onto the court, joining KD and Harden, forming a rare luxurious trio of guards.
At that moment, basketball IQ and court aesthetics merged into a torrent of wisdom.
The spectators erupted in excitement: "The Heavenly Kings Team has changed formations! The combined assists of these three could fill a dictionary!"
Meanwhile, the Trick Team was not about to back down.
Curry, Tatum, LeBron, Wembanyama, and Poole—the starting five reunited once again.
Curry gritted his teeth and said, "They think they can turn things around with a formation change? We'll show them what our regular lineup can do."
"Tatum: Tonight, we leave only the remnants of justice."
The entire arena lit up with:
🔥 Justice's Three Guards vs. Trickery's Full Force, the century's showdown enters the final moments of the first quarter, let’s begin! 🔥
Jay Chou slowly pulled out his Nunchaku from the sidelines, gazing at Mother Zhang across the court, and softly said:
"I'm going to write this into a song."
With two minutes left in the first quarter, the atmosphere felt like a silent ritual before a divine revelation.
Both teams fielded their main players, their energy and presence weaving together into a massive electric web. As the referee handed the ball to Harden, the lights in the arena seemed to focus even more, and the basketball appeared to emit a faint glow.
At this moment, three true masterminds stood on the court for the Heavenly Kings Team.
Harden, the king of tempo control.
Jokic, the top playmaking center.
And now—joining them was the European Magician, Luka Dončić.
When Luka Doncic received the first ball, he didn’t rush to advance; instead, he gently dribbled while scanning the entire court with his eyes filled with the language of basketball from around the world.
Poole playfully rushed over, babbling:
"Hey, hey, hey! Is it true that in Europe you don’t have to clock in? You’re so slow; are you going to get demoted?"
Luka Doncic responded with a lazy glance but didn’t retort. In an instant, he executed a quick change of pace and slipped past Poole's elbow gap, passing the ball to Jokic at the high post.
Smack!
The ball bounced out like a hot potato.
Jokic hardly glanced at the hoop and smoothly passed it behind him to Harden, who was cutting in.
Harden received the ball and immediately made a fake move for a layup, causing LeBron to leap into the air. However, he didn’t rush his shot; instead, he lowered his body and passed to KD in the left corner.
KD didn’t shoot either. Instead, he faked out Tatum and made a quick cut towards the basket!
Just as he was about to take his shot, Wembanyama descended from above, extending his arms like umbrellas to block the shot—
Luka Doncic slipped in from the weak side, stealthily cutting in for support!
KD changed direction mid-air and passed to Luka Doncic!
Luka caught the ball and executed a Eurostep into the Restricted Area, creating space between himself and Poole as well as Wembanyama, before finishing with a right-handed layup!
33:19!
The crowd erupted!
The ESPN commentator jumped up, shouting, “This isn’t just offense! This is five brains using the ball for a linguistic debate!”
On the next play, the Trick Team prepared to counterattack.
But Tatum was intercepted by Harden, who read his rhythm perfectly and stole the ball from behind!
Harden secured the ball and quickly passed it to Jokic. Jokic paused at the three-point line as if he were going to take the shot—
No, he shifted his gaze slightly and instantly bounced the ball on the floor towards the Restricted Area.
In that moment, KD emerged from the crowd, catching the ball with one hand and soaring for a dunk!
33:21!
Mother Zhang stood up, her brow furrowed. “What’s happening? Why are they suddenly moving like this?”
Poole was exasperated, shouting loudly for his teammates to double-team. “Are they performing magic or something? Why does the ball keep moving around like that?!”
Luka Doncic turned back to Poole and softly said in his thick Slovenian accent:
"You talk too much, my friend. Let the ball speak."
In the next two plays, the ball seemed to have a consciousness of its own, flowing seamlessly among the five players like an impromptu jazz ensemble.
Luka Doncic set the rhythm, Nikola Jokic orchestrated from the high post, James Harden cut through to distract the defense, while Kevin Durant and Bradley Beal took turns making off-ball cuts. Each shot felt like a step toward destiny.
On the next play, Luka Doncic and Jokic executed a high pick-and-roll. After briefly holding the ball, Jokic passed with his elbow, and KD caught it at the baseline—
He jumped for a shot—swish!
33:23!
The Trick Team suddenly felt as if the entire rhythm had been stolen from them, as if they were playing a fighting game and their opponents had switched to Go.
Curry tried to initiate an offensive play, but at that moment, Luka Doncic ghosted in, applying pressure that threw him off balance.
The ball bounced toward midcourt—Harden dove to save it, KD picked it up and passed it to Beal—
Another fast break!
Luka Doncic pulled up for a layup—score!
33:25!
A quiet yet lethal 10-0 scoring run had begun!
The crowd erupted!
Draymond Green jumped up, pumping his fist: "That's it! Keep their souls locked down!"
Jay Chou raised his nunchaku high, shouting: "Time to start writing the score!"
Mother Zhang widened her eyes, gripping her drink tightly as she whispered:
"Damn... are these guys dancing the waltz? How is there always someone open?"
Poole shouted in anger, "Who can kick that slowpoke European off the court? He's just playing music to control the ball!"
Tatum whispered, "He's not a player; he's AI."
As the first quarter was about to end, the final offensive and defensive plays were about to unfold.
Luka Doncic stood beyond the three-point line, the ball in his hands shimmering with energy.
He said to Harden, "You take the last shot."
Harden smiled, received the pass, stepped back, stepped back, stepped back—
Swish! Three-pointer good!
The first quarter ended with a score of Trick Team 33, Heavenly Kings Team 28!
A five-point difference.
The crowd went wild with applause, and the live chatrooms around the world exploded:
[Is this magic?]
[The ball seems alive...]
[Luka Doncic is really composing!]
[They're catching up! The divine counterattack!]
Comment 0 Comment Count