Chapter 113: Possessed by Tang Seng

Mobley looked at the wide-open lane before him, feeling deeply dejected. He felt immensely insulted; it was as if he were being looked down upon far too much. He truly wanted to cast Dunleavy's words to the winds and charge to the rim for a thunderous dunk. However, in the interest of the team, he ultimately passed the ball to He Xinghui. After receiving the pass, He Xinghui found no good shot opportunity and tossed the ball to the unguarded Cassell, who scored with ease. This made Mobley nearly burst into tears.

Damn it, if I had known you weren't going to shoot, why would I have needed to pass? I could have just driven in for a two-pointer myself. Or, I could have just passed to Cassell directly and at least picked up an assist. At this moment, Mobley wished he could immediately accept He Xinghui’s suggestion to head to the CBA and enjoy the treatment of a franchise star. Better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of an ox.

"No way, you don't actually think I'm going to take every single shot, do you?" He Xinghui muttered in LeBron's ear as he retreated on defense. LeBron ignored him and chose to drive again. Beyond this move, he didn't have many other tricks. This time, whether out of fatigue or some other reason, LeBron couldn't shake off He Xinghui, who stayed glued to him. This severely hindered his drive, and in a moment of desperation, LeBron subtly raised his elbow and jabbed it into He Xinghui’s chest.

Good heavens, He Xinghui felt as if he had been poked by an iron rod, grimacing in pain. Of course, he didn't forget to tumble to the floor and roll a few times. LeBron was furious after his layup, seeing He Xinghui in that state. Since he often pulled such stunts himself, he knew He Xinghui had to be faking; it couldn't possibly be that painful. Dunleavy protested from the sidelines, but the referee had no intention of changing the call and let play continue. Seeing that he wouldn't get the foul, He Xinghui reached out for a teammate to pull him up.

"What would you be without the league's favoritism?" He Xinghui whispered in LeBron's ear, making sure the ref couldn't hear.

"Shut up, you flopper," LeBron retorted.

"I learned it from you," He Xinghui mocked, then resumed play. In this league, one must inevitably get used to certain unwritten rules. Furthermore, He Xinghui wasn't exactly a victim of these rules; as a popular superstar, he enjoyed his fair share of bias when facing average players. If an unknown rookie had hit the floor as often as he did, he would have been tossed by the refs long ago.

The Clippers went on the attack, and after He Xinghui drew a double-team, Mobley rushed to the rim to score. "Sigh..." A collective groan rose from the arena; the fans were disappointed that it wasn't He Xinghui who scored. Mobley really wanted to cry now—he was scoring too, but the disparity in reaction was just too vast.

On the sidelines, Mike Brown pulled at his hair, pacing back and forth. He was worried. While they could limit He Xinghui's scoring to some extent, it left the rest of the Clippers wide open. If this continued, the Cavaliers would surely be slaughtered, perhaps losing by forty or fifty points. Such humiliation would be no less damaging than if He Xinghui scored 82 points, and he still wouldn't escape the fate of being fired.

"Defense, defense! Don't leave your man!" Brown shouted. He was reluctant to call a timeout; he had to save them. On the floor, Jones wore a bitter expression because he was the one leaving his man. But He Xinghui was always standing several steps beyond the three-point line; if Jones helped on defense, he was bound to leave Mobley open. If he didn't want to leave anyone, he couldn't stick to He Xinghui.

"Go guard Mobley," LeBron instructed. He didn't want He Xinghui to score high points, nor did he want the team to be decimated. Faced with the current situation, he had no choice but to take on more responsibility.

"Are you sure? Don't regret it," He Xinghui quipped. The smug tone made LeBron extremely uncomfortable. Of course, the content of the remark was the real sting; LeBron truly wasn't sure. The ability He Xinghui had displayed today was terrifying—threes, drives, he could do it all, even post-ups and mid-air adjustments.

Jones went to guard Mobley, and He Xinghui immediately called for the ball. It was a one-on-one opportunity again, and the "Star-fans" stood up in excitement. They knew He Xinghui wouldn't pass this time; a highlight reel play was inevitable. Sure enough, He Xinghui began to show off his offensive repertoire. He used a shot fake to distract LeBron, then suddenly accelerated into a drive.

LeBron was no slouch; he managed to keep up. With no clear opening, He Xinghui opted for a fadeaway. Relying on extraordinary coordination, he adjusted in mid-air and sank the shot.

"Envious of this mid-range ability?" He Xinghui laughed.

"You're as annoying as a fly," LeBron cursed. However, to He Xinghui, such insults sounded like praise.

As the Cavaliers attacked, He Xinghui continued to pester LeBron. He said, "LeBron, your career is destined to be a tragedy. Stuck in Cleveland, no superstar will ever want to join forces with you there. If you want to win a title, you must leave Cleveland and join a super-team in a big city. But if you do that, the Cavaliers' fans will see you for the coward you are. And even if you go to a big city, you might not win, because I’m already in one, and I can easily recruit better help anytime..."

"Shut up, I'm not leaving Cleveland," LeBron said, startled and angry that his inner thoughts had been laid bare.

"Then you're destined to be ringless your whole life, and your final legacy might just be another Karl Malone. So, I think you should change your jersey number as soon as possible. Wearing number 23 without a championship looks really awkward..." Before He Xinghui could finish, LeBron gave him a subtle shove, trying to push him away to receive the ball and start his drive.

He Xinghui hit the deck as usual, and this time, the referee whistled LeBron for the push. Previously, LeBron had the ball, so minor contact could be excused. But shoving without the ball was excessive. If they kept pampering him, the game would become a mockery. LeBron threw his hands up, explaining to the ref that it was just an accidental touch and that He Xinghui was an actor. Still, the referee did not change the call.

The Clippers attacked, and He Xinghui continued his harassment: "It’s 22 to 8, soon to be 24 to 8. Think about what the media will say after the game: 'LeBron's score is only one-third of He's,' 'LeBron was blown out,' 'LeBron is not the savior of Cleveland.' If you don't know how to answer them, I could teach you."

Before the game, LeBron had tried to school He Xinghui on how to handle the media. Now, He Xinghui was returning the favor.