Falk's rhetoric was exceptionally skillful. He had successfully packaged a brutal elimination series as a commercial spectacle.
Even the PR departments at Nike and Adidas had to marvel that Li Fei's instincts in the business world were even sharper than his blocks on the court.
On the Philadelphia charter flight, Allen Iverson wore enormous headphones and listened to aggressive hip-hop music.
His teammates were quietly discussing the Knicks' strength, discussing Li Fei's despair-inducing defense.
Iverson opened his eyes, removed his headphones, and swept his gaze over his teammates.
"Listen, guys."
Iverson's voice was not loud, yet the entire plane fell silent in an instant.
"I know everyone says we're going to lose. Everyone says the Knicks are unbeatable. That old man Bill Walton even predicted we'd only win two games."
He sneered, revealing a mouthful of white teeth.
"But I don't care who Li Fei is, and I don't care how many championships he's won. All I know is that when I step onto the court, I am the one and only Answer. We're going to New York not to sightsee. We're going there to rip their hearts out."
"Anyone who's scared can jump off the plane right now."
The Philadelphia 76ers players looked at their leader as the fear in their eyes gradually faded, replaced by an almost crazed fighting spirit.
That was Allen Iverson's magic.
He could make a group of blue-collar players and castoffs believe they could challenge the gods.
Meanwhile, at an upscale Italian restaurant in New York.
Monica Bellucci raised her wineglass and took a light sip, her captivating eyes fixed on Li Fei across from her.
"Fei, will you be nervous about tomorrow's game?"
Li Fei cut into a medium-rare steak, his movements as elegant as if he were performing surgery.
He looked up