Battle

"How about it? Why not give it a try and find out?" Kobe Bryant looked at Stackhouse and smiled.

At first, Stackhouse did not quite process it. This kid was that cocky? A rookie challenging the team's star during a workout—he had never seen anything like it. Thinking back to when he had entered the league the previous year and, in a moment of insanity, challenged Jordan, only to be thoroughly beaten by that old rogue who loved bullying rookies, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Kid, you're pretty cocky." Stackhouse met Kobe's gaze and stepped forward.

Kobe shrugged, calmly watching Stackhouse approach. Stackhouse was the same height as Kobe, his widened eyes glaring at him. He realized that if this rookie of the same size joined the team, they would inevitably clash over playing time and position.

"Tell me your name."

"Kobe Bryant. Before long, that name will be known all over the world."

Stackhouse's eyes widened as he stared in disbelief at this kid, who was even more arrogant than he was. Was this kid suffering from some kind of adolescent delusion?

Kobe had deliberately wanted to provoke a one-on-one matchup in order to complete a side mission for his restarted life. Stackhouse was the Philadelphia 76ers' unquestioned starter. Defeating him one-on-one would complete the side mission. If he failed this time, it would be difficult to find a suitable NBA starter to play against within a month.

Kobe had not considered completing the side missions of attending prom with Brandy or earning one million dollars. He was a player now. So he would let basketball do the talking. Although reincarnation had given him countless opportunities to make money, he had no starting capital at the moment. Nor did he want to spend too much energy chasing money or violate his principles in life.

Kobe had planned this one-on-one game long ago. Knowing Philadelphia would not draft him, his purpose in attending this workout was to complete the mission. Of course, the chance to face an NBA player also excited Kobe, whose hands had been itching to play. He could not wait to find out what kind of sparks twenty years of professional basketball skills and instincts could create when paired with a seventeen-year-old body.

"You're that high school kid declaring for the draft? Do you know who's standing in front of you? The great Jerry Stackhouse! Want me to give you an autograph?" Stackhouse talked trash as he took off his jacket, revealing his muscular body beneath his jersey. He had weighed ninety-eight kilograms at the rookie combine, and after a year in the NBA, he was already approaching one hundred kilograms.

This was an era of muscle and physical collisions. A strong body was the price of survival in the NBA. As the third overall pick, Stackhouse possessed tremendous physicality and excellent shooting ability. That was why he dared to challenge Jordan and act so recklessly on the team.

"Stackhouse? That nobody who tried to challenge Jordan?" Kobe continued fanning the flames. Early in his career, he had not been much of a talker, but the current Kobe was a seasoned veteran. Studying trash talk was one of his pleasures. He had even learned Bosnian before a game just to mock Nurkic of the Trail Blazers. Nurkic was from Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Bosnian was his native language.

Stackhouse's fury surged. "Kid, I need to teach you a lesson and make you understand that your achievements in high school mean nothing. A hundred players in the NBA have accomplished more than you, and some of them do not even have a team to play for!"

"We'll see. Do you need to warm up?" Seeing that his goal had been achieved, Kobe wore the smile of an old hand again. Greenhorns like this were his favorite kind of opponents.

"Warm up? You think I need to warm up to deal with a little brat like you?" Stackhouse was so enraged by this seventeen-year-old that smoke practically came out of his ears. He was determined to show off and teach this kid a lesson, just as Jordan had taught him one.

Seeing the situation gradually spiral out of control, John Lucas worried that someone might get injured during the one-on-one. "Jerry! Stop it. The team prohibits one-on-ones."

"That's right, but this kid isn't on the team yet!" Stackhouse did not care about any of that. All he wanted was to teach Kobe a lesson.

Lucas knew that once Stackhouse went crazy, there was no stopping him, so he could only shut up.

"Come on. First to five. You get the ball." Stackhouse stepped onto the court. He did not think a seventeen-year-old could pose any threat to him, so he had no intention of putting much effort into this matchup. He picked up a ball and tossed it to Kobe.

This guy really was simple-minded, Kobe could not help thinking. Underestimating an opponent was one of the greatest taboos on the court. Kobe prepared for every game with full effort—watching film, analyzing matchups, preparing trash talk, adjusting his physical and mental condition, and so on. This time was no exception. During the measurements, he had already loosened and stretched his muscles and joints and completed his warmup.

Kobe placed great importance on stretching and warming up. It was the best way to prevent injuries. Now that he had begun taking care of his body from his youth, how long could his career last?

"Then let's begin. Kobe has the ball. I'll serve as the referee." John Lucas knew he could no longer stop the game. At the same time, he wanted to see what surprises Kobe might bring, though he did not think highly of the seventeen-year-old. After all, Stackhouse was Philadelphia's leading star, a player who had been honed in college and the NBA and had already achieved considerable success.

"Kobe, show them what you can do!" Rob Pelinka did not see it that way. After cramming Kobe's high school game footage, he did not think Kobe was much worse than Stackhouse. He believed Kobe could cleverly conceal his only relative weakness—his lack of physical strength.

Kobe thought the same. The twelve-kilogram weight difference meant they were not in the same class physically, but Stackhouse's heavier body would also affect his agility.

"Alright, then I'm starting." Kobe held the ball a step beyond the three-point line, lowered his center of gravity, cradled the ball at his side with both hands, and fixed his eyes on Stackhouse in a standard triple-threat stance.

Looking at the skinny Kobe, Stackhouse was not even willing to bully him with physical contact. He gave Kobe a full step of space. "Come on, come on, let me see what you've got," he muttered. It was a common habit among Black players—they liked using meaningless chatter during games to disrupt opponents while firing themselves up.

Seeing the defender a step away, Kobe rose straight into his jumper, hung in the air, and released. The basketball traced a beautiful arc. Stackhouse did not even have time to react; against Kobe, this kind of defense was practically no defense at all.

Swish. The three-pointer went cleanly through the net.

"1–0. Kobe leads, and Kobe keeps possession." Lucas knew Kobe had some shooting ability, but he also felt the shot might have been a fluke. After all, three-pointers were not valued much in this era.

On the second possession, Stackhouse pressed up immediately, but Kobe protected the ball perfectly. Using Stackhouse's forward momentum, he smoothly dribbled behind his back and blew past him in one step. Once past his defender, he gathered the ball, took long strides into the paint, soared into the air, and threw down a one-handed tomahawk dunk!

When Stackhouse turned around, all he could see was the figure flying through the air. He reached out as if trying to grab something, but caught nothing.

Lucas's mouth fell open. He had seen countless NBA stars display their brilliance on the court, but he had never imagined a seventeen-year-old high school student could produce such a spectacular performance against an NBA player.

"2–0. Kobe keeps possession!"

After landing, Kobe bounced lightly on his feet, feeling the surging energy in his body and the quick, explosive power in his Achilles tendons. This was what being young felt like.

On the third possession, Kobe used a jab step to create a fleeting opening and drove inside. He had only shaken Stackhouse by half a step before Stackhouse cut him off. Kobe immediately gathered the ball and raised it overhead.

I've got you! The moment Stackhouse saw Kobe stop to shoot, he sprang into the air.

No, it was a fake. Kobe used Stackhouse's airborne body as support, planted his left foot as the pivot, then hit a signature spin, fadeaway, and release. It went in again.

Was this kid Jordan's little brother? The identical move made everyone present stare wide-eyed.

On the fourth possession, Kobe displayed his arsenal. A string of crossovers left Stackhouse scrambling, followed by a mid-range stride jumper. Familiar spot, familiar move—the ball dropped cleanly through the net.

On the fifth possession, it was another simple jab step. Afraid of Kobe's drive, Stackhouse could only shift his weight backward. Kobe pulled up from three.

Clang! The ball bounced off the rim. That familiar sound again. Kobe shook his head and flicked his hand.

"4–0. Kobe leads. Stackhouse's ball."

As offense and defense switched, Stackhouse finally got the ball on offense.

"Kid, this ends here. Now I'll let you see NBA-level offense!" With the ball in his hands, Stackhouse could not wait to teach this offensively gifted kid a lesson. He had to admit that the kid's offensive ability was terrifying. He simply could not keep up with Kobe's rhythm, and those moves even made him feel as if he were facing Jordan.

Stackhouse lowered his center of gravity and drove hard to the right without any attempt to hide his intention. Kobe kept his torso upright and did not crowd him too tightly. With one slide step, he got in front of Stackhouse. He knew that at his current strength, a single collision could knock him out of defensive position. He would avoid physical contact whenever possible, using agility and leaping ability to contain his opponent's offense.

Kobe cut off Stackhouse's direct path to the basket. If Stackhouse kept driving with his head down, he would only get forced toward the baseline, so he changed directions with a crossover and even deliberately exposed the ball, hoping Kobe would reach in for a steal. Kobe remained unmoved, continuing to guard the scoring position. His defense looked effortless, yet every move Stackhouse made felt uncomfortable.

Damn it! Why was this kid's defense so calm? He did not play like a seventeen-year-old at all!

Stackhouse wanted to crush Kobe with strength, so he made a half-turn and went into a post-up. Kobe placed his left hand against Stackhouse's waist to feel where the force was coming from while keeping his upper-body balance neutral. It was the method he had used for years to defend low-post offense.

Stackhouse backed him down twice. Kobe battled him hard, but was still forced backward. Stackhouse felt he had created enough room, backed him down once more, then spun into a jump shot.

Smack! Kobe Bryant, who had just been backed down, swatted away the basketball the moment it left Stackhouse's hand. The instant Kobe was shoved aside, it was as if he had known Stackhouse would shoot; he quickly stepped forward, leaped, and completed the block in one smooth motion.

"Great block!" Robert shouted.

"Damn it, you damn brat!" Stackhouse could no longer save face. Burning with rage, he picked up the ball and flung it at Kobe.

"What, can't stand losing?" Kobe wore that provocative smile again. Stackhouse took a deep breath.

"It's not over yet. Your turn to attack!"