Meanwhile, just as Wang Yi blocked the shot with one hand and caught the ball, the red lights around the backboard came on, and the buzzer above it blared shrilly.
Beeeep—
The 24-second shot clock had expired!
Wang Yi still held the ball in one hand as he faced X, who had turned around.
A kind, almost grandfatherly smile spread across his face.
"Young man, welcome to the NBA."
As he spoke, he slightly loosened his right thumb. The basketball dropped freely to the floor, bouncing again and again.
For a moment, X's mind went blank.
He hadn't given that possession everything he had, but he'd still played at 90% of his ability.
Yet even at 90%, he couldn't score against Wang Yi.
Wang Yi was like a huge net draped all around him.
Every shot he took got caught in that net.
He'd been certain he'd gotten past Wang Yi, only for Wang Yi to swat his shot away from behind with a volleyball-style block.
He'd landed and immediately gathered the ball, tossing it back up in one fluid motion—only for Wang Yi to pull off an unimaginable, astonishing mid-air one-handed catch block from behind and snatch it right out of the air.
What the hell kind of alien monster was this?
His mind still reeling, it felt as if only two sounds remained in the world. One was the basketball Wang Yi had caught and then released, bouncing against the floor.
Thump—thump—thump—thump-thump-thump-thump...
The other was Wang Yi's voice:
"Young man, welcome to the NBA."
God only knew how much those words hurt a reigning first-overall pick in that moment.
If Wang Yi's three blocks had grown stronger each time, each punch hitting harder than the last, then that line had doubled all the damage, adding a critical hit