The ball hit his hand, and the rough texture of the leather instantly awakened every competitive cell in Jordan's body.
The fatigue from his nonstop journey and the weariness of the long flight dissipated by more than half in that instant.
He raised his eyes toward Li Fei across from him, and fierce fighting spirit flared in his gaze.
The arrogant corner of his mouth dipped slightly, revealing extreme competitiveness and disdain.
Jordan instantly saw through Li Fei's intentions.
Li Fei had rushed him through the night, making him cross thousands of miles to New York without allowing him rest or showing him any consideration.
And in the end, it was all for a one-on-one game in this empty Madison arena.
Put plainly, Li Fei wanted to put him in his place.
Over four Finals, Jordan had fallen time and again beneath Li Fei's absolute dominance.
Now that he had joined Li Fei's side in the twilight of his career, Li Fei wanted to establish the rules in the most direct way possible.
He wanted to use a one-on-one game to tell Jordan who truly controlled New York.
And who was the league's one and only reigning king.
Jordan cursed under his breath, his anger thoroughly ignited.
That damned Li Fei really wasn't giving him even a shred of face.
He wasn't prepared for battle in any way right now; he had been traveling nonstop the entire time.
He was still wearing the ordinary athletic hoodie he had put on in Chicago, now slightly wrinkled.
The Air Jordan sneakers on his feet were just a casual pair he had thrown on before leaving, not shoes specifically meant for competition.
No warm-up, no stretching, no adjusting his breathing, no finding his shooting touch.
He hadn't even had time for a sip