Chapter Twenty-Seven: Reflections After the Competition

Time rewinds slightly—to China, in the CCTV broadcasting studio.

“Whoa, is Xing about to make the final attack? Is this the Clippers’ tactic? It seems a bit too simple. Xing is moving, he’s using a crossover to break through—that’s not his usual move… Oh, Hamilton’s been shaken off his feet, a golden opportunity!”

“Huh? Xing didn’t take the chance to drive to the basket. He’s backed out beyond the three-point line, he’s letting Hamilton get up. This… this isn’t very rational.”

“The ball’s in! Beautiful! Xing, with a dominating air, has delivered a buzzer-beater against the Detroit Pistons. Young men should be so spirited.”

Zhang He’s emotions were like a rollercoaster.

As a man in his fifties, he was reserved and not prone to extravagance; he’d never approved of He Xinghui’s cocky behavior. But when the shot went in, there was nothing more to say—it made sense.

“Oh… that’s insane.”

Outside a high school campus, in a small convenience store, a crowd of students in uniforms and sportswear gasped in awe.

“So arrogant, I love it.”

“Hamilton’s probably got a psychological shadow now, poor guy.”

“It’s like he’s playing around—so suave.”

They were used to Yao Ming’s honest playing style, so He Xinghui’s flashy moves were blindingly brilliant. Except for Yao Ming’s die-hard fans, at this moment everyone else couldn’t help but fall for Xing’s style.

America, Detroit.

In the locker room, Xing first took a playful beating from his teammates, then finally enjoyed the celebration.

After his shower, he had to follow Dunleavy to the press conference.

This was already his second time; apart from LeBron James, probably no one else had enjoyed such treatment.

At the press conference, reporters aimed their cameras at Xing, snapping away.

“Xing, why did you deliberately provoke Ben Wallace, and why did you lie on the scorer’s table to taunt the fans?”

This question came from a Detroit media outlet, naturally defending the Pistons.

No matter how well the opponent performed, they’d always find fault.

“I didn’t mean to provoke Ben Wallace. I just wanted to rile up Hamilton. Who knows why Ben got so worked up and shoved me—that was completely out of line.”

Xing replied.

Such shameless words, spoken as if perfectly reasonable, left the reporters cursing him inwardly.

“Then why did you want to provoke Hamilton? Do you dislike him, or is there some grudge?”

The reporter pressed on.

“Not at all. In fact, I admire him. It’s just that I’m not as strong, so if I want to beat him, I have to use a little trickery.”

Xing openly admitted to his off-court tactics, leaving the reporter speechless.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit unsportsmanlike? Why not win fair and square?”

The reporter asked.

“It’s not ideal, I admit. How about you call Stern and ask him to ban players from talking on the court?”

Xing tossed his phone on the table with a sarcastic remark.

As the saying goes, what isn’t forbidden by law is permitted—since the league hasn’t banned trash talk, why not use it? At least it’s better than those who play dirty and injure others.

Players who endure trash talk won’t be forced to miss the season.

“Trash talk is part of the game, please, we’re all adults here. Stop asking such childish questions.”

Dunleavy interjected, not wanting the conversation to linger on trash talk.

After all, it’s not a good look.

“Tell us about your buzzer-beater. Did you know you’d make it before you shot, or was it just an opportunity to humiliate Richard?”

Another sharp question, clearly meant to dig for controversy.

Xing wasn’t bothered; he was thick-skinned and didn’t care much about public opinion.

Even if he admitted it, so what? At most, some fans would dislike him.

As long as his strength is enough, teams will vie for him, and fans will flock.

Compared to players who choke coaches, take DM, steal, or commit other crimes, a little trash talk from Xing hardly counts as a stain.

He said, “Actually, I just wanted to burn a bit more time, so the opponent wouldn’t get a chance for a counter buzzer-beater.”

“Have you considered that if you missed, you’d be the scapegoat of the team?”

“If I missed, I missed. Even Jordan wouldn’t claim he makes every shot.”

“After your buzzer-beater, you collapsed into a girl’s arms. Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, it was just a coincidence.”

…

At the press conference, most questions were directed at Xing.

As for Dunleavy and Brand, they were only asked a couple of token questions.

There was no helping it—they simply didn’t draw as much attention or generate as many topics as Xing.

In this game, whether it was Xing’s Jordan-esque fadeaway, provoking Ben Wallace to cause a conflict, taunting the fans, sinking the game-winner, or flirting with a beauty courtside—all these were headline-worthy.

If reporters covered Brand, they could only mention his stats; there was little else to say.

Once the press conference ended, Xing finally had time to review his gains from the game.

He took 14 shots, made 8, including 3-for-8 from three-point range, with no free throws, totaling 19 points, 1 rebound, 5 assists, and 1 steal.

His scoring was second only to Brand’s 26 points, and with the game-winning shot, he could be considered the chief architect of the victory.

But compared to basketball stats, what Xing cared about more was his Rage Value.

He’d spent 400 Rage in this game, but his balance was now a whopping 1120.

He earned 240 Rage against the Pacers, plus the original 120; meaning in this game against the Pistons, he’d netted a full 1160 Rage.

This showed just how furious the Pistons’ players had become.

Xing decided he’d advise the coach to fly straight back to Los Angeles—danger might be brewing in Detroit.

With 1160 Rage, Xing, richer than ever, spent it all in one go, upgrading all his D-level attributes to C.

Although this improvement didn’t seem flashy, the effect was no less significant than boosting a single skill.

Xing needed comprehensive growth; raising just one ability wasn’t cost-effective.

For example, his three-point shooting was already at B-level, but against the Pistons’ targeted defense, he only managed 3-for-8, one of which was with a guaranteed-hit skill.

In reality, it was 2-for-7—hardly efficient.

Only by upgrading across the board, enhancing his mid-range game and ball-handling, could he become hard to defend.

Every superstar in the league has a diverse arsenal of offensive moves; only a league favorite like James could dominate with a single skill.

Even James, later on, developed post-up and three-point shooting; otherwise, he wouldn’t truly be considered a super-star.