At Anta Center's media room.
All the reporters were watching Wemby, waiting to see how he would answer such a tricky question.
The reporter who had asked it was looking at Wemby with a sly grin.
You could find a way to dodge all the other questions, but this one was so tricky, so shameless. I just want to see how you answer.
No matter how you answer, you're done for.
If you said you were better than Wang Yi and could beat him, you'd definitely provoke him, and you'd be finished in this game.
If you said you'd never be able to beat Wang Yi in your life, you'd become a laughingstock.
What Star would admit in front of hundreds of thousands of fans that he was inferior to another Star?
Wemby wore a smile as he looked at the reporter, not showing the slightest hint of panic.
But inside, he was already cursing up a storm.
"You son of a bitch, do you just feel uncomfortable unless you ruin my life? What the hell did I ever do to you? Why are you doing this to me?"
"Did I kill your father or steal your wife?"
"How twisted do you have to be to ask a question like that? I curse you to have a child born without an asshole, choke when you drink water, burn your mouth when you eat, have nail clippings fly into your eyes, and pick eye gunk that falls into your mouth."
Seeing how hard it was for Wemby to answer, LaMelo Ball stepped in to bail him out.
"Of course, Wang is widely recognized as the League's Number One right now. There's no question about that. But even the strongest players can't overcome the laws of nature. Wang is already 31, while