Chapter 66 Sprain (Second Update)

At the very least, when it came to basketball, few people paid much attention to Da Xu. Yes—he was an unpredictable player. When his touch was on, he felt invincible; when it deserted him, even open shots under the basket became impossible tasks. Lin Wei, though he didn’t look down on Da Xu, made his opinion clear enough: you’re not worth the effort of a focused defense.

Da Xu was especially frustrated, all the more so because that girl, Ying Huanhuan, was watching. Last time, he’d pounded his chest and declared himself the team’s leader! Yet now, the opposing Class Two assigned their weakest defender to cover the so-called leader of Class Thirteen.

For the first time, Da Xu felt an urge to prove himself on the basketball court. Near the end of the first quarter, he set a pick-and-roll with Yu Hang, rolled to the hoop, caught the pass, and scored a tough layup against Mu Di, drawing a foul for a three-point play.

The commentator sounded surprised, “This guy’s always been under the radar—are we about to see him erupt?”

“Under the radar?” Da Xu cursed inwardly. What nonsense! I’ve been making plays for others, burning myself out to light up the team—how is that ‘under the radar’?

Mu Di, having been outplayed, looked none too pleased.

Lin Shan came over to console him. “Don’t worry, he can’t beat us single-handedly.”

Mu Di nodded.

From then on, Da Xu shed his usual invisibility on the court. In the second quarter, he went three for five, including a three-pointer in transition. After draining that three, he cockily wiped his nose with his thumb, infuriating Mu Di even further.

“Looks like this player’s finally found his rhythm—he’s unstoppable right now.”

Despite Da Xu’s hot hand, the game remained close. Lin Wei and Lin Shan’s drives continued to wreak havoc in Class Thirteen’s paint.

Last semester, at this point in the game, Class Thirteen would have collapsed. But now, they’d truly grown stronger—their near double-digit win over Class Seven was proof enough.

At halftime, Yu Hang began to adjust the defensive assignments.

“For the second half, we can afford to give up some offensive rebounds. Once our shot goes up, everyone drops back to defend immediately.”

He intended to completely shut down the fast-break prowess of Lin Wei and Lin Shan.

“Also, our two bigs should set baseline screens to help our teammates cut inside.”

The fighting spirit of Class Thirteen was high; a fierce battle was clearly brewing.

On the Class Two side, too, faces were grim. Lin Wei patted Mu Di’s shoulder. “How do you feel now?”

Mu Di forced a wry smile. “I underestimated them. Individually, they’re not as strong as us, but their teamwork is much better. Once they start setting screens, our defenders can’t keep up.”

This was the result of a lack of practice. Ever since winning the championship last semester—often by blowouts—they’d grown complacent. Their preparation for this year’s tournament had been sorely lacking.

“Actually, let’s not get discouraged—they haven’t beaten us yet. The outcome’s still up in the air.”

Both teams were desperate for the championship.

When the second half began, Class Thirteen slowed down the game. Whenever Lin Wei or Lin Shan tried to isolate and drive, they immediately sent a double team to disrupt them.

Class Two was built around isolation play—the “Double Lin Duo” was unmatched in their grade. But Class Thirteen’s increased defensive pressure forced them to the free-throw line rather than allowing easy baskets.

This shift rattled their confidence. Throughout the third quarter, the pair managed just one field goal apiece from open play, though they made four trips to the line.

The commentator exclaimed, “Have they found the secret to containing these two? This duo is the most dominant in their year!”

Time ticked away as both sides traded blows.

Ming Han had fewer scoring opportunities today; Da Xu and Yu Hang shone brighter. But Ming Han’s playmaking was superb. With Yu Hang as the primary ball-handler, Ming Han mainly orchestrated from the high posts on either side. He’d post up, call for the ball, then the second and third options would come to set screens. Ming Han would curl off the screens, either attack directly, or kick it back out to a teammate.

He ran these sets with remarkable fluency, making them particularly threatening—even Class Two had no answer.

But early in the fourth quarter, the game took a turn. Yu Hang, exhausted from his efforts, was breathing heavily. On a drive, he was fouled and fell to the floor, grimacing in pain.

He’d sprained his ankle.

Yu Hang’s face contorted in agony; even standing up was a struggle. With only eight minutes left, Class Thirteen trailed 48-51, but the game was still within reach.

The referee called a timeout and checked on Yu Hang.

Yu Hang struggled to his feet. “I can still play.”

The initial pain was the worst; without help, Yu Hang could barely move on his own.

“Yu Hang, you should rest,” Ming Han said. He knew that if Yu Hang tried to play in this state, the other team would target him relentlessly.

Yu Hang replied in a low voice, “I know how my ankle is—it’s not too bad. Ming Han, hold the fort for four or five minutes; I’ll be back soon.”

Four or five minutes—the most critical stretch. No one could be sure Ming Han would keep the game close during that time.

Ming Han nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Yu Hang was furious with himself. He’d waited so long for this day, only for this to happen. He’d pushed himself too hard, and exhaustion had led to his injury.

Back on the court, Lin Wei and Lin Shan asked about Yu Hang’s condition.

“Ming Han, these five minutes—I won’t go easy on you.”

“I don’t need you to.”

So, Xiao Yu subbed in. Ming Han took over as point guard, facing Lin Shan’s defense.

Lin Shan was laser-focused. “Ming Han, I won’t let you score.”

Ming Han backed him down, then suddenly exploded with a quick first step. Lin Shan stuck to him, denying him any space. All at once, Ming Han whipped a behind-the-back bounce pass to Da Xu, waiting beyond the arc.

Da Xu took his second three-pointer of the game. His nerves fluttered, but the shot felt perfect. The timing of Ming Han’s pass was impeccable—Lin Shan hadn’t seen it coming at all.

Da Xu nailed the shot.

Even Lin Shan was astonished. He’d been watching Ming Han, whose eyes were locked on the basket, and Da Xu was hidden in his blind spot.

Now Lin Shan finally understood why Hei Ren valued Ming Han so highly—a bench player who often trained with the starting five.

In all his years of playing, Lin Shan knew he couldn’t make such a beautiful pass.

“With a Ming Han like that, you don’t dare to double-team him—that’s the biggest problem,” he thought.

But Lin Shan was not one to yield easily. He’d already scored fifteen points tonight.

On the next possession, he went straight at Ming Han, backing him down, then spun for a hook shot. The ball bounced off the rim. Lin Shan, quick as lightning, grabbed the offensive rebound and forced up another layup over Ming Han.

Ming Han swatted it down with authority.

The ball sailed out of bounds...