The whole process would take at least a week.
Judging by Park In-joong's condition, this was far worse than a mild concussion.
It would probably take at least a month.
With that in mind, the two team doctors called over some players on the sideline to bring out the extra-large stretcher specially designed for NBA players.
They called over a few more players, and together they lifted Park In-joong—his face covered in blood—onto the stretcher.
The cameraman followed Park In-joong all the way into the Player Tunnel.
Now that the spectators had lost sight of the player they'd been focused on, they turned their attention back to Wang Yi and started hurling abuse at him again.
At first, their jeers were scattered.
"You shameless bastard!"
"Murderer!"
"You despicable Yellow Rat!"
Gradually, their jeers became unified.
"Murderer!"
"Murderer!"
"Murderer!"
Imagine what it would be like for 18,426 spectators to shout "murderer" in unison.
The person at center court would be surrounded on all sides by that overwhelming roar of abuse.
It would feel as if the entire world were your enemy.
As if you couldn't bear to stay in the arena for another second.
You'd want nothing more than to flee at once, to vanish in an instant.
Wang Yi had been standing with his teammates around the coach, listening to his analysis and instructions for what came next. But when he heard the deafening jeers, he lifted his head and swept his gaze over the crowd.
The cameraman caught the moment, and Wang Yi's image appeared on the big screen as he looked around the arena. Seeing that he still dared to raise his head, the spectators cranked their jeers up another octave.
"Murderer!"
The deafening cries rolled like thunder, striking terror into the heart.
The three coaches nearby—Dako,