Was this Kobe even human?
Was his body forged from steel?
Didn't he know what fatigue and rest meant?
He was insane! A complete and utter training maniac!
The more O'Neal thought about it, the angrier he became. He grabbed a couch cushion, ready to smash it onto the floor.
But halfway through, he stopped.
He remembered what Kobe had said over the phone—"If you're my brother, come to the training facility."
Those words struck his heart like a heavy hammer.
He remembered the high spirits they had shared when they first teamed up, the resentment of being eliminated by the Utah Jazz and the San Antonio Spurs, and their shared goal—building a Dynasty for Los Angeles.
Yeah, eating and putting on a show—those things were for outsiders to see.
Real brothers stood by each other when the other needed them most, sweating together and fighting together.
Right now, Kobe was immersed in the pain of being defeated by Li Fei, and he had chosen the most extreme way to drive himself onward.
What he needed was not a lavish dinner, but a teammate who could fight alongside him.
O'Neal let out a long sigh. The irritation and laziness on his face gradually faded, replaced by a complicated yet resolute expression.
He slowly hauled himself off the couch, his massive body seeming to shake the entire room.
He went into the walk-in closet, changed into a baggy Lakers practice uniform, then picked up his car keys and left the mansion.
"Maniac..." he muttered as he headed toward the garage. "A total maniac... and he's dragging me into his madness too."
Though he complained with his mouth, his steps were unusually firm.
Half an hour later, when O'Neal pushed open the training facility's heavy doors, a wave of heat mixed with