Chapter 2: Then Let’s Go Wild
"Lin Feng is still too nervous. After all, he’s never played in front of such a huge crowd."
"Yeah, what a pity. If he’d made that free throw, the deficit would’ve been down to just nine."
"Let’s see how his second shot goes."
...
"I thought he got Curry’s skills? How can he miss a free throw? Is this system just a scam?!"
Missing the first shot, Lin Feng was frustrated, seriously doubting the authenticity of this so-called system.
"Damn it, if I miss the second one, I’m uninstalling this stupid system..."
Lin Feng dribbled twice, aimed at the hoop, and shot.
Clang!
Another miss! Two missed free throws!
Damn! Missed again!!
Lin Feng couldn’t help but curse under his breath.
At that moment, Beicheng grabbed the rebound and launched a fast break. Their foreign player, Randall, caught the ball at the top of the arc and fired a three-pointer—good!
100 to 87!!
Beicheng was now up by 13 points, with just 2:59 left on the clock. Time was quickly running out for Jiangning.
"Randall’s three was so ruthless—it’s practically a death sentence for Jiangning!"
"Yeah, I don’t think Jiangning can come back from this one. Lin Feng missed both free throws, and then they let them score a three-pointer. That’s a five-point swing! At critical moments, you just can’t rely on young players, especially when they even forget to get back on defense..."
Champions!!!
Champions!!!
Champions!!!
Randall’s three-pointer sent the atmosphere in the arena to its absolute peak. Every fan was on their feet, chanting for the championship. In their eyes, the trophy already belonged to Beicheng. All that was left was to enjoy the last three minutes and then celebrate!
"Hey, rookie, missed both free throws, huh? Want me to show you how it’s done? Ha, the championship is ours. You guys can just pack it up!"
As they crossed paths, Randall, giddy with triumph, threw trash talk at Lin Feng.
"Screw you!"
Lin Feng shot Randall the finger without hesitation.
"If it weren’t for this scam of a system, I’d shoot you off the court!"
Back on the court, Jiangning inbounded the ball. Their foreign player, Harris, dribbled past half court and, facing his defender, launched a three-pointer. Missed!
"Harris is getting desperate, but playing like this won’t help. Jiangning’s done for tonight."
"Yeah, unless a miracle happens in the next 2:45, the title is Beicheng’s."
Play resumed. Beicheng brought the ball up. Randall, in no hurry, began controlling the tempo.
"Randall’s not shooting now—he’s managing the clock."
"That’s experience for you. If Beicheng wins, he’s a lock for Finals MVP."
With just four seconds left on the shot clock, Randall made his move and got off a shot at the last moment. Missed.
2:24 remained.
Jiangning inbounded from under their own basket. Lin Feng took the initiative, quickly pushing the ball past half court. At that moment, the mechanical voice echoed in his mind once again.
System notification: You are now within three-point range. You may shoot at any time.
"Seriously? Is this thing messing with me again?"
Lin Feng hesitated, half in disbelief.
"Lin, give me the ball!" Harris called out, clearly eager to try another three.
But why let him shoot? Might as well try it myself—after all, they were already losing by a wide margin...
With that in mind, Lin Feng glanced at the rim, raised the ball, and let it fly.
Damn!
What the hell is he doing? He’s barely over half court!
"Has Lin Feng gone mad?"
"Isn’t this just a wild chuck?"
The commentator had barely gotten the word "chuck" out when—swish—the net rippled. The ball was in!
No way!
Unbelievable!
He actually made it!!
100 to 90! The gap was back to ten points.
For a moment, the arena was silent—everyone was stunned by Lin Feng’s ultra-long three-pointer.
But the crowd quickly snapped out of it.
"Pure luck, no question!"
"Guy’s got horseshoes, I’ll give him that."
"Everyone gets lucky now and then."
"Exactly, no way he does that again."
...
"Lin Feng’s got guts. The kid’s fearless."
"Heh, interesting shot—barely two steps past half court and he let it fly, and it actually went in. Must be his lucky day."
Most of the crowd and even the TV commentators chalked it up to luck.
"Nice one, Lin! Make four more and we win," Harris joked, slapping Lin Feng’s hand as they got back on defense.
"All right, four more it is."
Lin Feng shrugged, his face calm, though inside he was elated—the skills of the great Curry had finally awakened.
Play resumed. Randall brought the ball up, faced Lin Feng’s defense, and launched a three, clearly wanting to answer back.
But the ball slammed off the front rim. Missed!
"Randall didn’t need to force that shot—they’re still up by ten."
"Looks like he’s taking it personally with Lin Feng, but that was a poor decision."
After that shot, Randall himself seemed to regret it. Even though Lin Feng had hit a three, Beicheng still controlled the game. He should have just run down the clock.
Jiangning’s center, Han Dajun, grabbed the rebound and immediately dished it to Lin Feng.
"Hey, rookie, dare you to shoot another," Randall taunted, trying to bait Lin Feng into a miss and regain possession.
"Fine, I will!"
Lin Feng snorted, rose up right over Randall, and fired.
The ball traced a beautiful arc through the air, heading straight for the hoop.
Swish!
The net fluttered—the ball went in!
No way!
Another one!
What’s going on, two in a row?!
Is Lin Feng on something?
100 to 93!
Jiangning trailed by just seven.
There was still 1:57 left! Suddenly, there was suspense again!
"Lin Feng is unbelievable—he hit that right over Randall, who’s on the All-Defensive First Team!"
"This just got interesting. Could there be a miracle? There’s still nearly two minutes and seven points—it’s anyone’s game!"
The game went on. Beicheng’s head coach, Wang Chunsheng, didn’t call timeout; he thought Lin Feng’s two threes were just luck—there wouldn’t be a third.
"We’re still ahead! No need to panic—control the tempo, go for high-percentage plays!" Li Chunsheng shouted from the sideline.
Randall, distracted, dribbled as he ran down the clock. He’d been playing in China for two years and had never seen a Chinese player hit threes over him, especially not in the Finals. He felt deeply humiliated.
He was determined to teach this rookie a lesson!
Suddenly, as Randall hesitated, Lin Feng seized the moment and swiped the ball away.
"Stolen!"
"Lin Feng with the steal!"
"Let’s see what he does..."
After the steal, Lin Feng sprinted past half court—no defenders ahead. Normally, he’d just go for an easy layup.
But Lin Feng stopped outside the three-point line!
What the hell?
Another three?
That’s way too confident!
Passing up an easy two to force up a three—he’s lost it!!
But yes, Lin Feng was going for another three!
Quick stop, rise, release!
Swish!
The net fluttered—the ball was in!
100 to 96!!
Jiangning was down by just four!
"He did it again! Lin Feng is on fire!"
"Incredible! Three in a row! Passing up easy twos for threes—he’s gone mad! Who would’ve thought, after such a dull game, the last three minutes would explode! This is worth watching—could there really be a miracle?"
"Win or lose, Lin Feng’s three threes will be remembered by basketball fans across the country!"
"Wait, not just threes—Randall fouled him on the closeout. Lin Feng gets a free throw..."
The replay showed that after Lin Feng released the three, Randall, late on the contest, grabbed his arm.
"Randall didn’t need to do that."
"Totally unnecessary. If he makes the free throw, it’s just a three-point game."
On the court, Beicheng's head coach, Wang Chunsheng, was forced to call a timeout. He was frustrated—if he’d called it earlier, there might not have been a steal, or this four-point play.
Lin Feng returned to the bench, where all his teammates swarmed around him.
"Lin, you sly dog, you were hiding this from us!"
"Those three threes were insane!"
"You’ve got guts—passing up an easy two to shoot a three? Respect!"
"Come on, everyone, let’s bow to the great Lin and hope he hits two more! Let’s take down Beicheng!"
...