The lights in the players' tunnel were pale and cold.
The roaring stands gradually fell silent, and the scattered sighs of the remaining fans drifted in through the corridor.
Reggie Miller walked alone at a slow pace, his jersey soaked with sweat, dark stains spreading across it.
No teammates came over to speak with him.
Everyone dragged their exhausted bodies toward the locker room, unwilling to say another word about this crushing defeat.
Miller clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.
His nails dug deeply into his palms, but the sharp pain could not suppress the fury and frustration churning in his chest.
The Knicks again.
Li Fei again, Jordan again.
Four years. A full four years.
Every year, he fought until he was completely spent, pouring every drop of his passion into every playoff battle.
Yet every time, the door to the NBA Finals was firmly sealed shut by the Knicks.
In the first year, they battled through seven games, only for Jordan to shatter his dream with a game-winner at the very end.
In the second year, Li Fei built an insurmountable wall in the paint, and the Pacers' offense ran into obstacles everywhere.
In the third year, the entire team played its best basketball of the season, yet still fell in the Eastern Conference Finals.
Tonight was the fourth time.
A 92-125 rout, a clean sweep.
Four straight times, they had fallen before the same Dynasty.
Cruel scenes from the game replayed over and over in Miller's mind.
Li Fei calmly rose for mid-range shots again and again, the ball swishing cleanly through the net.
That towering figure guarded the paint, blocking shots, grabbing rebounds, facilitating the offense—capable of everything.
No matter how many defensive schemes the Pacers tried, they could not contain that 23-year-old giant.
Then