The farthest point of the NBA three-point line was 8.325 meters from the baseline.
The free-throw line was 5.8 meters from the baseline.
In other words, the three-point line was less than three meters from the free-throw line.
Wang Yi had already scored 20 points in the game.
His range of influence now extended about 3.2 meters around him.
That was more than enough to affect this guy.
To the fans in the arena and everyone watching the game on their screens, LaMelo was about to take three free throws. It looked like nothing out of the ordinary.
Meanwhile, in the production room backstage, three staff members were responsible for monitoring the audio from the arena.
All three stared at the screen with wide eyes, unable to believe what they were seeing.
Their usual job was to review the audio captured by the arena's recording equipment.
That way, they could determine which sounds were okay to broadcast and which ones the public wasn't supposed to hear.
Naturally, the audio picked up by the microphone LaMelo was wearing was reviewed by the three of them.
Earlier, they'd heard Wang Yi bet LaMelo a million dollars for every three-pointer he made.
At the time, all three had thought it was unbelievable.
LaMelo was a shooter with a nearly 40 percent three-point percentage, and Wang Yi was actually betting him on threes.
What was more, Wang Yi wasn't even going to defend him. He'd let LaMelo shoot, paying him a million dollars for every one he made.
Now that they'd heard Wang Yi wanted to bet on free throws, all three thought he'd gone crazy.
"Madman, madman, a complete and utter madman! No wonder people call him the Mad King."
One of the audio technicians muttered to himself.
Another kept shaking his head.