Chapter 139: The Mad Performance

The Knicks were on the attack, but Marbury, still lost in thought, dribbled the ball lackadaisically without any urgency to orchestrate a play.

This infuriated the home crowd, who began to boo. They were urging Marbury to finish the possession quickly; they wanted to see He's performance.

"What the hell?"

Marbury felt a chill run down his spine, momentarily questioning if he was playing an away game. Actually, no—even opposing fans weren't this annoying.

With four seconds left on the clock, Marbury threw up a lazy jump shot. Whether it went in or not, he no longer cared.

The Clippers took possession, and as soon as they crossed half-court, the ball was back in He Xinghui's hands. Cassell was remarkably self-aware; he knew it was "He-time" and that playing "correct" basketball was no longer the priority. Or perhaps, giving the ball to He Xinghui was the most logical play of all. As for him, he could just stand aside and admire He Xinghui's elegance.

He Xinghui received the ball and drove again. With just one step, he left Jalen Rose in the dust. Morris lunged to force a steal, but He Xinghui pulled off such an exaggerated crossover that it looked as if his knees were about to touch the floor, as if he were about to collapse. Morris scrambled to recover, but his coordination failed him. He tipped forward, ending up on his hands and knees on the court in a comical display.

Meanwhile, while adjusting his body after the crossover, He Xinghui continued to accelerate toward the basket. The audience felt a shiver down their spines; such movements were practically superhuman. Charging into the paint, He Xinghui leaped to face Frye's defense, evaded him, and managed to slam the ball into the hoop with one hand.

It was an alley-oop style dunk after a mid-air adjustment. It was even more violent and visually stunning than a simple layup.

As He Xinghui landed, he stood directly in front of Morris, who looked like an ancient court official kneeling before an emperor. He Xinghui looked down at him, finding the situation somewhat amusing.

"Rise," He Xinghui said in Chinese.

"Oh..."

Smith was speechless, left only to express his excitement through sheer volume. It is normal for a player to occasionally make a beautiful shot, but to string together a series of highlights worthy of the season's top ten plays was simply mind-boggling.

"Cool..."
"That move, it's the absolute limit of humanity."
"That scared me to death, I thought his legs were going to snap."
"Good lord, is Morris actually kowtowing?"

Fans in front of their televisions watched the slow-motion replays, cheering wildly as if they were the ones who had made such spectacular plays.

The Knicks were on offense, but the entire team looked like they had lost their souls. Although He Xinghui's two baskets were only worth four points, keeping the score tied, the Knicks' confidence had been shattered by his unstoppable scoring ability. If five men couldn't stop him, what else could they do?

The Knicks began to unravel. Marbury threw up a desperate shot that, surprisingly, went in. But Marbury couldn't find joy in it; he was too worried about what limit-defying stunt He Xinghui would pull next.

The Clippers were back on offense. He Xinghui dribbled the ball, chanting, "Left, right, left, right..." while driving toward the basket. Jalen Rose tried his absolute best; he did not want to become another highlight-reel victim. He tried to slide to his left, but once his weight shifted, he realized He Xinghui was going right. He desperately twisted his body to move right, but He Xinghui crossed back to the left. Off-balance, Rose tried to move right again, but his feet slipped, and he landed squarely on his backside. It was a comical sight.

In reality, an average person couldn't even manage to look that funny; they would have been blown past on He Xinghui's first step. Rose's defense had actually been quite sound. It was just unfortunate that He Xinghui was currently playing at a level far above him.

With Rose floored, He Xinghui drove to the rim, leaped high, and prepared to strike. Eddy Curry lunged, jumped, and stretched his long arms to block the shot. In mid-air, He Xinghui adjusted his frame, tilting his body backward to keep the ball away from Curry's reach. His incredible hang time made the scene look like a freeze-frame. Then, He Xinghui released the ball, which swished through the net, completely untouched.

One after another.

He Xinghui kept knocking down these divine shots, and few in the arena could remain seated. They rose to their feet, chanting his name and nicknames.

However, the crowd soon noticed that Jalen Rose was still lying on the floor, looking to be in some pain. He had tweaked his ankle slightly, and suddenly, he recalled the advice He Xinghui had given him earlier. At that moment, he felt He Xinghui's suggestion was quite sound. So, he feigned an injury and refused to get up.

The game was paused as the team doctor came out. The doctor couldn't find anything serious, but as a precaution, he suggested Rose return to the locker room. Rose "reluctantly" agreed, wearing an expression of deep sorrow, as if grieving his inability to continue serving the team. This moved Quentin Richardson so deeply that he was almost infected by Rose's spirit—until Larry Brown called him onto the court.

Then, Quentin was stunned. Once, he had been desperate for playing time, and now his wish had been granted. But if he could, he would have declined. He sensed that something was terribly wrong.

The game resumed. The Knicks missed another shot, but the home crowd didn't boo; they couldn't be bothered. They only wanted to watch He Xinghui's offense.

The Clippers were on the attack, with He Xinghui bringing the ball up. Kaman suddenly said to Brand, "Should we just go sit on the sidelines for a while? It's not like we're doing anything on offense, and at least we'd be clearing space for him to drive."

"..." Brand.

He wanted to, but he could only dream of it.

The two of them arrived in the Knicks' half, but the Knicks' players ignored them entirely, their focus fixed solely on He Xinghui.

"I feel insulted," Kaman muttered. After spending so much time with He Xinghui, he had started to pick up his habit of complaining.

He Xinghui crossed half-court, and Marbury and Quentin Richardson immediately rushed to double-team him. Seeing this, He Xinghui didn't panic; instead, a smile spread across his face. He remembered once seeing Rose get double-teamed and using a flashy move to break through. It was a high-risk play, but He Xinghui didn't hesitate to replicate it. Even if he failed, it wouldn't matter; his performance today was already stunning enough that the fans wouldn't hold a small mistake against him. But if he succeeded, his popularity would skyrocket.

He tossed the ball toward the two charging defenders, threading it through the narrow gap between Marbury and Quentin, barely brushing their jerseys. Then, He Xinghui pivoted around Quentin and chased down the ball. Marbury and Quentin were left dumbfounded, forgetting to even pursue him, freezing in place. They never expected him to try such a move; otherwise, a simple reach or even a hip check would have easily deflected the ball. But it was so unexpected that they were toyed with like fools.

With nothing but open court ahead, He Xinghui took flight from just inside the free-throw line, soaring for a graceful, gliding dunk. In his prime, Rose wasn't just fast; his vertical leap was among the best in the league. A dunk of this caliber was child's play for him.