Chapter Seventy-Two: You Look So Handsome When You Forge

The Clippers pushed forward and settled into their half-court offense.

Next, He Xinghui sprinted toward Livingston’s spot. Livingston set a screen for him, blocking Kobe’s pursuit. In that brief opening, Cassell delivered the pass.

This was one of the plays they had practiced yesterday, designed specifically to create a shooting opportunity for He Xinghui.

Trying to attack with the ball against Kobe’s defense was simply too difficult for He Xinghui. Even with the use of items from the system shop, going one-on-one with Kobe didn’t guarantee efficiency. At this point in his career, Kobe’s perimeter defense was truly top-tier.

He Xinghui caught the ball and fired immediately, without even the slightest adjustment.

This was thanks to his use of Klay Thompson’s “Three-Quarter God Mode” experience card, worth a thousand rage points, which allowed He Xinghui to borrow Klay’s off-ball movement and shooting abilities for the first three quarters.

The basketball traced a perfect arc and swished through the net.

“Nice! He’s really good, isn’t he, Charlize?”

Vanessa, seated beside Charlize, generously applauded He Xinghui’s play.

“Uh, aren’t you supposed to be supporting Kobe?” Theron teased.

“No, I support love,” Vanessa quipped.

On the court, while retreating on defense, He Xinghui kept close to Kobe, his mouth never stopping: “Where were you just now? Didn’t Phil assign you to guard me?”

“Shut up, you screen-calling scrub,” Kobe snapped.

“It’s called team play. Someone like you who only cares about isolation and stats would never understand,” He Xinghui shot back.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kobe caught the ball, backed down He Xinghui, and after creating space with a textbook spin, nailed a fadeaway jumper.

Both players started the game red-hot.

Back on offense, He Xinghui buried another three-pointer, again using a teammate’s screen.

“Same basket, but why do I get an extra point over you?” He Xinghui grinned.

Kobe ignored him, shooting a deadly glare at Odom, who felt a chill run down his spine.

The last two baskets He Xinghui made were Odom’s responsibility. He hadn’t curtailed Livingston’s movement or switched quickly enough to contest He Xinghui’s shot.

Determined to focus, Odom soon showed his versatility. On the Clippers’ third possession, he closed out on He Xinghui with lightning speed, giving him no room to shoot. Cassell saw this and didn’t pass the ball over.

While helping He Xinghui pad his stats was important, they couldn’t make it too obvious, nor could they give him every shot. The team’s priority was still to win.

Cassell fed the ball to Brand, who spun past the slow-footed Mihm and, with the paint wide open, threw down a dunk. He hung on the rim a moment, venting his frustration. From being the team’s undisputed leader, he had suddenly become a sidekick—hardly a satisfying turn of events.

The Lakers’ possession saw Kobe muscle past He Xinghui for another bucket.

“Better call for a double-team, since you’re so used to needing help,” Kobe taunted.

He knew he couldn’t out-trash-talk He Xinghui, but that never stopped him—this was Kobe, after all.

He Xinghui could only smile wryly at that, as if handing Kobe another ten rage points he’d never collect. Asking for help on offense was already a bit unsporting; to call for double-teams on defense as well would mean this showdown was no longer a true duel. He Xinghui refused to stoop so low.

On the next Clippers possession, Cassell took a shot and missed.

The Lakers answered with an Odom drive. While Kobe had a clear advantage over He Xinghui, running every offensive set through him would quickly exhaust him and make the team predictable.

After a few head-to-head exchanges, the game settled down, at least on the surface, with both sides playing solid, sensible basketball.

He Xinghui kept moving off the ball. Empowered by the “God Mode” card, he finally shook Odom with a sudden back-cut and called for the ball mid-stride. He caught it and launched immediately, but missed. Even with supernatural help, not every shot could fall, and He Xinghui didn’t let it bother him.

On the other end, Kobe bricked a shot over He Xinghui’s defense. He Xinghui’s defense wasn’t stellar, but it wasn’t entirely ineffective, either.

“You look so cool missing jumpers,” He Xinghui needled him.

“Shut up—you just missed one yourself,” Kobe retorted, a little exasperated. For some reason, He Xinghui’s inexplicable cockiness always got under his skin. They both missed, so what right did He Xinghui have to gloat?

On the next Clippers attack, Kobe shadowed He Xinghui relentlessly, vowing not to let him score again. The shot clock ticked down, He Xinghui couldn’t shake Kobe, and no other Clippers found an opening. With few options, Cassell tossed the ball to He Xinghui anyway—if nothing else, maybe he’d get lucky.

He Xinghui caught it and shot in one swift motion, catching Kobe completely off guard. Kobe was used to players resetting before shooting, not this sudden release.

This time, fortune favored He Xinghui—the shot went in.

“I missed when no one was guarding me, and now I score with you defending. So tell me, what’s the point of your defense?” He Xinghui said, turning a coincidence into an argument.

Caught up in the heat of the game, Kobe didn’t have time to parse the flaw in the logic. Being mocked for his defense, he grew frustrated and angry.

“Kobe seems pissed. He Xinghui just buried a shot right over him—that must have stung. What a tough, beautiful make,” Smith praised.

“Looks like He’s been talking some trash to Kobe. Damn, why don’t we have a lip-reading expert on the broadcast? We can’t figure out what he’s saying!” Barkley slapped his thigh in frustration. He was convinced any game featuring He Xinghui needed a lip-reading specialist; without one, viewers would miss half the show.

Sure, most of the trash talk would be revealed after the game, but it couldn’t compare to the immediacy of live TV.

“That’s a great idea, but even if the bosses like it, it’ll have to wait for future broadcasts. For now, it’s still just us,” Smith replied.

Fans watching at home were just as frustrated. Why didn’t TNT hire a lip-reading expert? Everyone wanted to know what He Xinghui was saying to Kobe.

Especially for some fans, watching basketball wasn’t just about the game—the real entertainment was in the confrontations and fights. And He Xinghui’s trash talk was second only to brawls in terms of excitement.