The reporters swarmed him, microphones and cameras thrusting toward him in an instant.
"Wang, with only three days left until the Finals, how are you feeling?"
"What's your plan for dealing with your opponents' defensive strategy?"
"Bales has publicly apologized and become a fan of yours. What do you think about that?"
Questions came at him one after another.
Wang Yi stopped and took the microphone a staff member handed him.
A faint smile touched his face, and he answered calmly.
"I'm feeling great, and the team's chemistry keeps getting better."
"Our opponents are strong, and we'll be thoroughly prepared. As for the specific tactics, those are a secret."
"Bales has his own judgment. I'm focused only on the game."
His answers were brief, but left no opening for further questions.
He didn't linger and headed straight for the court.
An assistant coach was already waiting there.
He held a thick playbook in his hands.
"Today, we're focusing on simulating their zone defense and managing your stamina."
The assistant coach opened the playbook and pointed to the notes.
"The Finals are more intense than the Playoffs. We need you to have enough energy for the crucial moments."
Wang Yi nodded and set his gym bag aside.
Then he began warming up.
Leg stretches, flexibility drills, shuttle runs.
Every movement was flawless.
At 38, he took longer to warm up than the younger players.
The team doctor had told him that a thorough warm-up was the best way to avoid injuries.
He'd never forgotten those words.
His teammates arrived one after another.
As soon as Doncic entered the Training Hall, reporters surrounded him.
He smiled and answered a few questions in English.
But his eyes kept drifting toward Wang Yi.
King Arthur carried his gym bag by himself and headed straight