Soldier Ryan saw Wang Yi beckoning to taunt him. He strode up to Wang Yi, ready for some physical contact.
This time, if Wang Yi dared to jump, he would brush against him lightly with his body first, keeping him from getting a full jump. That would give him a chance to block Wang Yi.
He was very skilled at this kind of defense. He used the same move against many NBA players who were good at pull-up threes.
He knew exactly how far he could go without committing a foul. Even if he brushed against Wang Yi and affected his shot, he could make sure the referee wouldn't call a foul.
Just then, Wang Yi asked again, "Are you ready?"
Soldier Ryan nodded emphatically, a little cocky. "Come on, baby!"
Before he had even finished speaking, Wang Yi jumped again.
Soldier Ryan leaned forward slightly, intending to give Wang Yi a nudge and keep him from jumping with all his strength.
But when he leaned forward, Wang Yi didn't jump normally. Instead, he leaped backward.
His upper body leaned straight back.
His feet stretched forward, keeping his body temporarily balanced.
He leaned back at a steep angle in midair, his whole body almost at a forty-five-degree angle to the floor.
That made it much harder for Soldier Ryan to block Wang Yi.
Once again, the ball traced a trajectory that seemed plotted by precision instruments, then sliced through the net.
A pull-up fadeaway three-pointer from the center circle! Right in his face!
The moment it went in, the crowd erupted once more.
"Beautiful, Brother Yi!"
"Destroy him, Brother Yi!"
"Kill him!"
Those two consecutive pull-up threes from the center circle—especially the second, a pull-up fadeaway three-pointer—left the fans feeling thoroughly vindicated.
That kind of play was an outright insult