TNT's broadcast camera stayed locked on Li Fei at the free-throw line.
Bradley Beal's voice was grave.
"Two free throws. If he makes both, the Knicks will have a six-point lead."
"With one minute left, a six-point gap will be almost impossible for the Lakers to overcome."
The New York fans in the arena burst out of their brief silence and cheered at the top of their lungs.
Lakers fans throughout the arena made as much noise as they could, waving their arms to disrupt Li Fei's rhythm.
In the stands, Monica Bellucci unconsciously clenched her hands, her knuckles turning pale.
Angelina Jolie leaned forward slightly, unable to take her eyes off that towering figure.
Across the ocean, countless fans watching on television had sweat-soaked palms.
Li Fei stood at the line, still calm and composed.
After forty-eight minutes of grueling play, his Titanium Alloy Physique kept his breathing steady.
He bounced the ball twice and lowered his head to settle his breathing.
Then he looked up at the basket.
First free throw.
His wrist flicked gently.
Swish.
Straight through.
The scoreboard changed to 61–56.
The boos grew even louder.
Li Fei took the ball from the referee again.
He repeated the same routine: a bounce, a moment of focus, then the shot.
Second free throw.
Nothing but net again.
62–56.
He had made both.
The lead had grown to a full six points.
Fifty-nine seconds remained in the fourth quarter.
Kevin Harlan raised his voice, emotion surging through it.
"He makes them both! Six points! It's a six-point lead!"
"The Lakers have less than a minute left!"
Marv Albert slowly shook his head.
"The situation is dire. The Lakers need to score quickly, then find a way to get a defensive possession—a steal, perhaps, or a missed Knicks free