The Kings had taken a four-point lead by the end of the second quarter.
As the Kings left the court, the fans sitting courtside continued booing Wang Yi one after another.
"Trash King!"
"Boo!"
"Trash King!"
"Boo!"
Some even shouted:
"Trash King, you're only good enough to lick Morant's ass!"
"Trash King, Ja's going to kill you on the court!"
Wang Yi wasn't the least bit angry at their trash talk. Instead, he looked up and flashed the fans a strange smile.
That left them completely baffled.
They'd expected Wang Yi to trade insults with them, and had already thought of how they would fire back.
But they'd never imagined that Wang Yi wouldn't get angry—instead, he'd smile at them.
What was he smiling about?
So many people were insulting him, and he was still smiling.
Was this guy up to something?
The thing about a lot of things was that they could seem suspicious if you thought about them too much.
The more you dwelled on something that had seemed perfectly ordinary, the more you felt something was off, the more you suspected there was some scheme behind it.
That was how you ended up scaring yourself half to death.
So even though the fans kept putting on a brave front, a trace of fear crept into their hearts.
Fifteen minutes later, both teams took the court again.
On the first possession, with twenty thousand people booing him, Wang Yi drove past his defender and passed the ball to Little Danny on the perimeter.
Little Danny's three-pointer failed to go in.
At the other end, Morant raced down the court like a bolt of lightning.
Wang Yi and Little Danny both chased him down to contest the shot.
Morant leaped from just inside the free-throw line, raising his right