Wang Yi took advantage of Hugo jumping and ducked low again, dribbling past him and reaching the three-point line.
Carl hurried over to defend Wang Yi.
But it was already too late. Wang Yi rose without hesitation and released the three.
The basketball once more shot into the sky, streaking across the heavens before plunging toward the hoop like a meteor.
Boom!
It slammed into the basket, sending up white flames.
106–110. The Kings were down by just four.
At that moment, every player on the Kings' bench stood up at once, waving their fists and roaring.
Anjiali raised both hands and shouted, "Oh my God, oh my love!"
Mitchell sprang up excitedly and pumped his fist. "The boss is awesome! The boss is mighty!"
Over on the Spurs' side, Popovich, with his silver hair and beard, looked more grim than ever.
Was history really about to repeat itself?
There were only 23.7 seconds left. Thanks to Wang Yi's two consecutive threes, the Kings had cut the deficit to just four.
History was a cycle.
At that moment, those words seemed to ring true in this game.
The situation was so much like the game between San Antonio and the Houston Rockets 25 years ago.
It wasn't just Old Master Bo. Wang Yi's two threes had reminded every spectator of that game.
They remembered that number one.
And now they looked at this number zero.
This number zero was even more ridiculous in terms of individual ability than that number one had been, and he had pulled off more miracles.
So no one doubted that he could score thirteen points in thirty-five seconds.
After Wang Yi sank the three, the Spurs inbounded again.
The Kings stuck with their intentional fouling strategy, sending the Spurs to the line.
This time, they