Antetokounmpo had thrown out a couple of threats, but Wang Yi simply held up three fingers without saying a word.
The meaning was simple.
If you don't have three championships, you don't get to talk to me.
Antetokounmpo was furious.
But there was nothing he could do about it. With three rings, Wang Yi had every right to talk tough.
Seeing Antetokounmpo get shut down, the Bucks could only send out their own Durant the Grim Reaper.
Durant had once used an alt account to trade insults with fans online. That counted as quite the glorious history.
Surely going back and forth with Wang Yi wouldn't be too hard for him.
Today, Durant sported a small goatee and a sharp suit.
He strode in on those long, six-foot-eight legs of his.
First he glanced at Wang Yi, then at the audience.
Finally, he walked over to the couch and sat down.
He draped both arms across the backrest and leaned back.
The whole pose looked very relaxed.
In his own mind, the motion was probably smooth as silk, and he'd nailed the whole aura.
But the viewers saw it differently.
"Damn, that irresistible construction foreman vibe."
"Even a suit worth tens of thousands of dollars can't hide his construction foreman vibe. Incredible."
"Damn, how does my Durant nail that construction foreman vibe so perfectly?"
After Durant sat down, he turned to Wang Yi. "Is it enough now that I'm here?"
Wang Yi smiled faintly and said nothing.
He simply kept holding up three fingers.
If you don't have three championships, you don't get to talk to me.
Seeing this, the Chinese fans all burst out laughing.
"Brother Yi took down the Grim Reaper and the Greek beast with one gesture."
"No three championships, no right to talk to me. Brother