Volume One: I Came, I Saw, I Conquered!

Volume One: I Came, I Saw, I Conquered! Chapter Twenty: Light

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

Curry's lips moved, but he didn't say a word. He only nodded firmly, his gaze growing resolute.

"If you score 20 points, I'll go on a date with you~" A blonde beauty shot Curry a flirtatious glance.

They poured toward Hinkle Fieldhouse, their chants of support for the team thundering through the air. The quiet campus grew noisy and lively.

In a spacious classroom, an elderly professor with white hair lectured from the podium, his voice rising and falling. The students looked up and listened attentively, but in the last row, one student was sprawled across his desk, fast asleep.

Over the past few months, word had spread that Zhang Yu had taken over as head coach of the Bulldogs. The news had appeared in the sports sections of nearly every local Indiana newspaper, and he'd become a minor celebrity in the state.

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

Zhang Yu walked out of Hinkle Fieldhouse, opened the can of cola in his hand, and took a long drink. He let out a satisfied breath, crushed the can with a forceful squeeze, and tossed it into a trash can with a shooting motion before returning to his office.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Hm? What is it?" The professor's gaze swept across the classroom and landed on the student who was asleep. He called out, "It's still early. I'm going to get some more practice in. Go eat without me."

Curry didn't turn around. He just raised a hand and waved twice as he called back.

But Micah Shulsbury had kept his promise, silencing all the opposition and giving Zhang Yu a good environment in which to coach.

"Looks like our star player's been working too hard in practice," the professor joked.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

The bright lights high above the court illuminated Curry's solitary figure on the floor. Their glow also streamed through the fieldhouse windows and spilled onto the road outside.

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

The sky was still a deep blue, and the streetlights hadn't come on yet. Only Zhang Yu's and Stevens's offices were lit in the building. Together with the faint glow from Hinkle Fieldhouse, they were the only lights in this corner on the east side of Butler University's campus.

The day passed quickly. The sun sank toward the west, and the sky shifted from pale blue to azure, then deep blue, gradually darkening.

"Of course not!" Zhang Yu shook his head, his voice firm.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

Seeing that Zhang Yu's position was as solid as a rock, the opponents had no choice but to accept reality. But Zhang Yu knew full well that if the team lost, he'd be the first one dragged out to take the blame.

Amid the frenzy, there were a few discordant voices. Several guys who looked like juniors gathered in line outside Hinkle Fieldhouse, talking about the Bulldogs.

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

Seeing that Zhang Yu's position was as solid as a rock, the opponents had no choice but to accept reality. But Zhang Yu knew full well that if the team lost, he'd be the first one dragged out to take the blame.

Stevens came over from next door, knocked on the half-open door, and walked in.

"If you score 20 points, I'll go on a date with you~" A blonde beauty shot Curry a flirtatious glance.

"It's still early. I'm going to get some more practice in. Go eat without me." Curry didn't turn around. He just raised a hand and waved twice as he called back.

"Hm? What is it?" But the professor didn't scold Curry any further. He set down his book, pulled two tickets from his briefcase, and held them up with a smile.

"I'm finally getting a taste of what Coach Rickert must have felt like," Zhang Yu said with a wry smile. "Everyone's putting their hopes in you. It makes your blood race, but it also puts a lot of pressure on you."

In a spacious classroom, an elderly professor with white hair lectured from the podium, his voice rising and falling. The students looked up and listened attentively, but in the last row, one student was sprawled across his desk, fast asleep.

But Micah Shulsbury had kept his promise, silencing all the opposition and giving Zhang Yu a good environment in which to coach.

"Hm? What is it?"

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

"Hahahaha..."

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Um, well, I think it's like this..." The student who'd been woken up was Curry. He stammered for a while but couldn't come up with an answer.

They had no idea how good Zhang Yu had been as an assistant coach. They only knew one thing: a young man couldn't possibly be a good coach, especially not a Chinese man!

Amid the frenzy, there were a few discordant voices. Several guys who looked like juniors gathered in line outside Hinkle Fieldhouse, talking about the Bulldogs.

They poured toward Hinkle Fieldhouse, their chants of support for the team thundering through the air. The quiet campus grew noisy and lively.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

Over the past few months, word had spread that Zhang Yu had taken over as head coach of the Bulldogs. The news had appeared in the sports sections of nearly every local Indiana newspaper, and he'd become a minor celebrity in the state.

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

The laughter of the class rang out. The professor looked both amused and exasperated.

This was where the NCAA headquarters were located and the hometown of the legendary superstar "The Big Bird," Larry Bird. The Pacers had never won a championship, but Indiana was home to some of the most passionate basketball fans in the country.

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

And after Butler University's students and faculty learned that the team's new head coach was a 23-year-old, they lodged a strong protest with the school's Basketball Operations Department.

"It's still early. I'm going to get some more practice in. Go eat without me." Curry didn't turn around. He just raised a hand and waved twice as he called back.

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

Curry's lips moved, but he didn't say a word. He only nodded firmly, his gaze growing resolute.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

"Stephen, aren't you going to eat?" Louis asked.

Zhang Yu walked into the fieldhouse, turned around two corners in the passageways, and heard the sound of a basketball bouncing. Then he saw Curry shooting.

"Um, well, I think it's like this..." The student who'd been woken up was Curry. He stammered for a while but couldn't come up with an answer.

"Good, quiet down. We still have class. Stephen, make sure you win!"

The professor smiled as he calmed everyone down, then gave Curry a thumbs-up.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

"Looks like our star player's been working too hard in practice," the professor joked.

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

Curry excitedly let out a low growl, ran over to retrieve the ball, and began his tedious practice.

He had no idea Zhang Yu was standing nearby. He didn't stop as he repeated the same three-point shot again and again. Whether the ball swished through the net or bounced off the rim, his expression never changed. His form was as precise as a machine's.

"Um, well, I think it's like this..." The student who'd been woken up was Curry. He stammered for a while but couldn't come up with an answer.

They poured toward Hinkle Fieldhouse, their chants of support for the team thundering through the air. The quiet campus grew noisy and lively.

The bright lights high above the court illuminated Curry's solitary figure on the floor. Their glow also streamed through the fieldhouse windows and spilled onto the road outside.

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

"Good, quiet down. We still have class. Stephen, make sure you win!" The professor smiled as he calmed everyone down, then gave Curry a thumbs-up.

Zhang Yu nodded slowly. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back. He had to face the first challenge of his coaching career head-on.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

They had no idea how good Zhang Yu had been as an assistant coach. They only knew one thing: a young man couldn't possibly be a good coach, especially not a Chinese man!

The class burst into laughter. The professor looked both amused and exasperated.

They laughed again, and the classroom filled with cheerful commotion.

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

"Hm? What is it?"

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

"Hahahaha..."

"Um, well, I think it's like this..." The student who'd been woken up was Curry. He stammered for a while but couldn't come up with an answer.

They poured toward Hinkle Fieldhouse, their chants of support for the team thundering through the air. The quiet campus grew noisy and lively.

The bright lights high above the court illuminated Curry's solitary figure on the floor. Their glow also streamed through the fieldhouse windows and spilled onto the road outside.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

Over the past few months, word had spread that Zhang Yu had taken over as head coach of the Bulldogs. The news had appeared in the sports sections of nearly every local Indiana newspaper, and he'd become a minor celebrity in the state.

The class was on the verge of laughter again. The professor looked both amused and exasperated.

This was where the NCAA headquarters were located and the hometown of the legendary superstar "The Big Bird," Larry Bird. The Pacers had never won a championship, but Indiana was home to some of the most passionate basketball fans in the country.

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

And after Butler University's students and faculty learned that the team's new head coach was a 23-year-old, they lodged a strong protest with the school's Basketball Operations Department.

"It's still early. I'm going to get some more practice in. Go eat without me." Curry didn't turn around. He just raised a hand and waved twice as he called back.

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

Curry's lips moved, but he didn't say a word. He only nodded firmly, his gaze growing resolute.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

"Stephen, aren't you going to eat?" Louis asked.

Zhang Yu walked into the fieldhouse, turned around two corners in the passageways, and heard the sound of a basketball bouncing. Then he saw Curry shooting.

"Um, well, I think it's like this..." The student who'd been woken up was Curry. He stammered for a while but couldn't come up with an answer.

"Good, quiet down. We still have class. Stephen, make sure you win!" The professor smiled as he calmed everyone down, then gave Curry a thumbs-up.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

"Hahahaha..."

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Um, well, I think it's like this..." The student who'd been woken up was Curry. He stammered for a while but couldn't come up with an answer.

They had no idea Zhang Yu was standing nearby. He didn't stop as he repeated the same three-point shot again and again. Whether the ball swished through the net or bounced off the rim, his expression never changed. His form was as precise as a machine's.

"Good, quiet down. We still have class. Stephen, make sure you win!" The professor smiled as he calmed everyone down, then gave Curry a thumbs-up.

Curry excitedly let out a low growl, ran over to retrieve the ball, and began his tedious practice.

The bright lights high above the court illuminated Curry's solitary figure on the floor. Their glow also streamed through the fieldhouse windows and spilled onto the road outside.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

"Stephen, aren't you going to eat?" Louis asked.

The sky was still a deep blue, and the streetlights hadn't come on yet. Only Zhang Yu's and Stevens's offices were lit in the building. Together with the faint glow from Hinkle Fieldhouse, they were the only lights in this corner on the east side of Butler University's campus.

Zhang Yu walked out of Hinkle Fieldhouse, opened the can of cola in his hand, and took a long drink. He let out a satisfied breath, crushed the can with a forceful squeeze, and tossed it into a trash can with a shooting motion before returning to his office.

"Stephen, aren't you going to eat?" Louis asked.

That key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

He knew Zhang Yu's position was secure, but if the team lost, he'd be the first one dragged out to take the blame.

The bright lights high above the court illuminated Curry's solitary figure on the floor. Their glow also streamed through the fieldhouse windows and spilled onto the road outside.

The day passed quickly. The sun sank toward the west, and the sky shifted from pale blue to azure, then deep blue, gradually darkening.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

His classmates chimed in with encouragement for Curry.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

That key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Swish! Zhang Yu slowly nodded. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back. He had to face the first challenge of his coaching career head-on.

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

Zhang Yu walked into the fieldhouse, turned around two corners in the passageways, and heard the sound of a basketball bouncing. Then he saw Curry shooting.

The day passed quickly. The sun sank toward the west, and the sky shifted from pale blue to azure, then deep blue, gradually darkening.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

His classmates chimed in with encouragement for Curry.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

That key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Swish! Zhang Yu slowly nodded. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back. He had to face the first challenge of his coaching career head-on.

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

"Make sure you win..." Curry excitedly let out a low growl, ran over to retrieve the ball, and began his tedious practice.

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

Zhang Yu walked into the fieldhouse, turned around two corners in the passageways, and heard the sound of a basketball bouncing. Then he saw Curry shooting.

The day passed quickly. The sun sank toward the west, and the sky shifted from pale blue to azure, then deep blue, gradually darkening.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

His classmates chimed in with encouragement for Curry.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

That key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Swish!

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

"Make sure you win..." He had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

His classmates chimed in with encouragement for Curry.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

That key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Swish!

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

"Make sure you win..." Zhang Yu walked slowly toward the office, commenting on the hamburger in his hand. "This is pretty good. I could order it again tomorrow..." Then he noticed a faint glow coming from Hinkle Fieldhouse in the distance.

After class, Curry packed up and left the building with his roommate, Louis Yang, heading east.

A tall, muscular white student said anxiously:

Curry shyly scratched his head and gave an awkward smile.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

"Get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

"Make sure you win..." Curry had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

"Swish!"

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

He had no idea Zhang Yu was standing nearby. He didn't stop as he repeated the same three-point shot again and again. Whether the ball swished through the net or bounced off the rim, his expression never changed. His form was as precise as a machine's.

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

Entering the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

Curry was excited. He let out a low growl, ran over to retrieve the ball, and began his tedious practice.

The key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

He knew Zhang Yu's position was secure, but if the team lost, he'd be the first one dragged out to take the blame.

The professor laughed, but didn't scold Curry any further. He set down his book, pulled two tickets from his briefcase, and held them up with a smile:

"If you score 20 points, I'll go on a date with you~" A blonde beauty shot Curry a flirtatious glance.

Curry shyly scratched his head and gave an awkward smile.

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

They had no idea Zhang Yu was standing nearby. He didn't stop as he repeated the same three-point shot again and again. Whether the ball swished through the net or bounced off the rim, his expression never changed. His form was as precise as a machine's.

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

"Make sure you win..." Zhang Yu slowly nodded. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back. He had to face the first challenge of his coaching career head-on.

He had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

The class laughed again, and the classroom filled with cheerful commotion.

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

Over the past few months, word had spread that Zhang Yu had taken over as head coach of the Bulldogs. The news had appeared in the sports sections of nearly every local Indiana newspaper, and he'd become a minor celebrity in the state.

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

He entered the fieldhouse, and Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

He knew Zhang Yu's position was secure, but if the team lost, he'd be the first one dragged out to take the blame.

The day passed quickly. The sun sank toward the west, and the sky shifted from pale blue to azure, then deep blue, gradually darkening.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

His classmates chimed in with encouragement for Curry.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

Entering the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

The key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Swish!

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

"Make sure you win..." Curry had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

Curry shyly scratched his head and gave an awkward smile.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

"If you score 20 points, I'll go on a date with you~" A blonde beauty shot Curry a flirtatious glance.

The professor laughed, but didn't scold Curry any further. He set down his book, pulled two tickets from his briefcase, and held them up with a smile:

Seeing that Zhang Yu's position was as solid as a rock, the opponents had no choice but to accept reality. But Zhang Yu knew full well that if the team lost, he'd be the first one dragged out to take the blame.

Curry had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

"Stephen, aren't you going to eat?" Louis asked.

The key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

He knew Zhang Yu's position was secure, but if the team lost, he'd be the first one dragged out to take the blame.

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

Curry shyly scratched his head and gave an awkward smile.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

Entering the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

The class laughed again, and the classroom filled with cheerful commotion.

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

This was where the NCAA headquarters were located and the hometown of the legendary superstar "The Big Bird," Larry Bird. The Pacers had never won a championship, but Indiana was home to some of the most passionate basketball fans in the country.

"Make sure you win..." Curry excitedly let out a low growl, ran over to retrieve the ball, and began his tedious practice.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

Zhang Yu walked out of Hinkle Fieldhouse, opened the can of cola in his hand, and took a long drink. He let out a satisfied breath, crushed the can with a forceful squeeze, and tossed it into a trash can with a shooting motion before returning to his office.

"Stephen, aren't you going to eat?" Louis asked.

The key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Although Curry was a basketball player, he studied seriously, thanks to Sonya's strict upbringing.

Zhang Yu walked into the fieldhouse, turned around two corners in the passageways, and heard the sound of a basketball bouncing. Then he saw Curry shooting.

The day passed quickly. The sun sank toward the west, and the sky shifted from pale blue to azure, then deep blue, gradually darkening.

Entering the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

"Of course, I'll give it everything I've got!"

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

No matter how much they'd doubted the young head coach before, in this moment, they were simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

His classmates chimed in with encouragement for Curry.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

Entering the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

The key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Swish!

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

"Make sure you win..." Zhang Yu slowly nodded. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back. He had to face the first challenge of his coaching career head-on.

He had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

The class laughed again, and the classroom filled with cheerful commotion.

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

"Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

Zhang Yu walked into the fieldhouse, turned around two corners in the passageways, and heard the sound of a basketball bouncing. Then he saw Curry shooting.

Someone sitting beside the sleeper quietly nudged him in the side. He jolted awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and blinked blearily.

"Make sure you win..." The professor laughed, but didn't scold Curry any further. He set down his book, pulled two tickets from his briefcase, and held them up with a smile:

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

The students and faculty who'd once doubted the young head coach were now simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

The students and faculty who'd once doubted the young head coach were now simply fans, firmly standing with their team.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"So, Ronan, can you feel the enthusiasm from the students and faculty?"

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

His classmates chimed in with encouragement for Curry.

Meanwhile, Butler University's campus was brightly lit. After class, countless students and faculty changed into light blue Bulldogs jerseys. Some even painted their faces, transforming from polite university students into frenzied fans.

Entering the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

He was used to it. Curry went to the fieldhouse almost every day for an extra hour or two of practice, working incredibly hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so exhausted that he fell asleep in class.

The key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.

Swish!

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

He had picked up a basketball from the equipment rack in the corner of the fieldhouse. After dribbling twice, he pushed the ball out from his chest. It traveled an unusually long arc and swished through the net.

"Make sure you win..." Zhang Yu slowly nodded. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back. He had to face the first challenge of his coaching career.

He had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

Curry shyly scratched his head and gave an awkward smile.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

"Stephen, what criteria are used to define social classes?"

"If you score 20 points, I'll go on a date with you~" A blonde beauty shot Curry a flirtatious glance.

The professor looked around the classroom and spotted the student who was asleep. He called out:

Two days later, Friday, November 10.

After class, Curry packed up and left the building with his roommate, Louis Yang, heading east.

The professor laughed, but didn't scold Curry any further. He set down his book, pulled two tickets from his briefcase, and held them up with a smile:

"Stephen, you're up. Answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

Zhang Yu walked into the fieldhouse, turned around two corners in the passageways, and heard the sound of a basketball bouncing. Then he saw Curry shooting.

Curry had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

"Make sure you win..." His voice made the students laugh again, and Curry hurriedly said:

This was where the NCAA headquarters were located and the hometown of the legendary superstar "The Big Bird," Larry Bird. The Pacers had never won a championship, but Indiana was home to some of the most passionate basketball fans in the country.

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

The professor laughed, but didn't scold Curry any further. He set down his book, pulled two tickets from his briefcase, and held them up with a smile:

Zhang Yu nodded slowly. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back. He had to face the first challenge of his coaching career.

He had practiced after the team's session the previous day, shooting until eight that night and leaving only when he was completely exhausted. He still hadn't recovered today, which was why he'd fallen asleep in class and been caught by the professor.

"Stephen, aren't you going to eat?" Louis asked.

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

The professor laughed, but didn't scold Curry any further. He set down his book, pulled two tickets from his briefcase, and held them up with a smile:

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

But under Stevens's teasing gaze, Zhang Yu finally gave in with a sigh:

With the Bulldogs' first game just two days away, Zhang Yu had given the team two days off. Curry hadn't practiced during the day and planned to work out until nine before heading back to the dorm.

After saying goodbye to Louis, Curry went to Hinkle Fieldhouse, rummaged through his backpack for his key, and unlocked the entrance.

Stevens came over from next door, knocked on the half-open door, and walked in.

When he entered the fieldhouse, Curry switched on one of the overhead lights and changed beside the court.

But Micah Shulsbury had kept his promise, silencing all the opposition and giving Zhang Yu a good environment in which to coach.

"...We all know that different social classes in a city have different patterns of social interaction, and those patterns are often shaped by the average income of people in that class and their—"

"We've prepared thoroughly. We'll be fine, especially with Stephen on our side. He didn't show his true ability in the preseason, so he'll definitely surprise Indiana State," Stevens reassured him.

"After tomorrow is our first regular-season game. I've already bought tickets. If you don't play well, I'll give you a D!"

"How could I not be nervous? I can't imagine what they'll do to me if I screw up tonight... They weren't happy about me taking over as head coach in the first place."

"Stephen, get up and answer this question. What criteria are used to define social classes? Stephen?"

The key had come from a security guard at Hinkle Fieldhouse. During the first few days of the semester, Curry had to ask the guard to open the doors every time he wanted to practice. Later, seeing how he came almost every day, the guard had simply given him a spare key.