Jordan was lost, lost for the first time in his life!

Center court.

At this moment, noise and desolation intertwined.

The camera turned to Michael Jordan.

The God of Basketball did not leave the court immediately. He stood near the center circle, surrounded by wildly celebrating Knicks fans and streamers fluttering through the air.

His back looked somewhat lonely. Those eyes once filled with killing intent now held disappointment and unwillingness, but even more than that, a sense of release.

Li Fei pushed aside the teammates crowding around him and strode toward Jordan.

Their gazes met.

There was no tension, no trash talk.

Jordan extended his hand, and Li Fei clasped it.

Then the two embraced tightly.

"You won, kid," Jordan said quietly into Li Fei's ear, his voice somewhat hoarse. "This court is yours now."

Li Fei patted Jordan on the back, his tone calm but powerful. "Michael, you're still a legend. But like I said before, the future belongs to me."

Jordan let go and looked at the opponent before him, a head taller and far too young. A strained, bitter smile tugged at his lips. "Don't let those guys in the Western Conference steal the championship. If you lose, I'll laugh at you for the rest of your life."

"Don't worry." Li Fei smiled faintly. "The word 'lose' isn't in my dictionary."

Jordan nodded, gave the dome of Madison Square Garden one last look, then turned and headed toward the players' tunnel.

His back was still straight, but everyone knew that the red Bulls dynasty had, on this night, completely become a page in the history books.

At the same time, the rest of the Chicago Bulls players, including Karl Malone and Harper, did not accept any interviews. With their heads lowered, they hurried out of the arena.

For these aging veterans hungry for a championship, the taste