Moichi Taoka's Miserable Howl

As he walked, he bellowed at the top of his lungs, from theories to secret weapons. Sakuragi Hanamichi was about to take the court. "Liu Chuanfeng, get down here!"

Seeing this, Shohoku's substitutes immediately rushed forward and held Sakuragi Hanamichi back, stopping him from causing trouble.

"Ryonan's bench seems pretty lively."

Xiangtian Yanyi tilted her head slightly, her gaze passing over the court toward the chaotic commotion on Shohoku's bench. She spoke with a puzzled expression.

Tiangang Maoyi followed her gaze, his eyes landing on Sakuragi Hanamichi, who was being dragged back to his seat by several teammates.

With his arms crossed and a slight furrow in his brow, he studied the restless guy for a few moments. The kid was certainly tall, broad-shouldered and long-legged, with a sturdy frame. He looked like excellent basketball material at first glance.

His physique looked decent too. His muscles were well-defined, and his explosiveness should not have been bad. The only question was how skilled he actually was.

But he soon withdrew his gaze. With Sendoh and Chi Tong on his team, he had no need to think about such things. He was utterly confident in his current lineup.

Chi Tong merely glanced at Sakuragi Hanamichi, who was still clamoring to get on the court. His gaze was calm and utterly unruffled, as if he were looking at a noisy child by the roadside.

He offered no opinion. An immature player was not worth his attention. A player who could not even control his emotions would be nothing more than a tower of sand, no matter how gifted he was.

From the instant the jump ball hit the ground, Ryonan had firmly seized control of the game's tempo.

They moved like a precisely operating war machine, orderly in both offense and defense, measured in advance and retreat. Every movement carried overwhelming pressure. Shohoku tried every offensive method it could think of—outside drives and kick-outs, inside power plays, pick-and-rolls—but no matter how they changed things up, every attack was ruthlessly strangled by Ryonan's defensive net just as it was about to take shape.

They could not penetrate the paint, could not pass into open space, and could not find a shooting rhythm. They were like men trapped in an invisible net; the more they struggled, the tighter it bound them.

Then, after that suffocating defense, Ryonan's counterattack surged forth like a tide. Once again, Ikegami pushed the ball upcourt, his steps unhurried as his sharp eyes swept across the floor.

The instant Liu Chuanfeng pressed him tightly, he flicked his wrist. A brilliant pass pierced through three defenders and went straight to the open man under the basket. Ikegami caught it and rose for a layup!

The basketball dropped cleanly through the hoop!

"Nice shot!"

"Ryonan!"

The bench exploded at once. Cheers erupted like a volcano, and applause thundered through the gym.

Tiangang Maoyi stood at the sideline, his eyes gleaming as he nearly clenched his fists in excitement.

As he watched the team on the court execute his tactical intentions perfectly, a long-lost surge of passion rose within him.

The team was performing far too well. Their transitions between offense and defense were smooth, the players' chemistry was exceptional, and their tactical execution was as precise as a textbook.

What thrilled him even more was that Chi Tong, whose strength was no less than Sendoh's, was still sitting on the bench.

Thinking of how this year's Ryonan possessed not only Sendoh's talent and Yu Zhu's iron-blooded toughness, but also the entirely new tactical dimension brought by Chi Tong, Tiangang Maoyi's heart had already been set ablaze. He was filled with hope and anticipation for this year's National Tournament.

Five minutes had passed since the game began, but those brief five minutes had been a merciless crushing. The score was temporarily frozen at 15:0, with Ryonan in the lead.

Tiangang Maoyi could no longer contain his excitement. He abruptly rose from his seat, his eyes blazing as his voice thundered through the gym's clamor. "This is only the beginning! You have to stretch the lead to thirty points!"

The moment those words came out, everyone on Shohoku's side changed expression.

Kogure's brows knitted tightly. His lips moved as he muttered under his breath, "A thirty-point lead?"

"They're looking down on us way too much!"

Akagi stood rooted in place, his muscles taut and his gaze dark. His iron-like fists clenched until they crackled.

Liu Chuanfeng still wore no expression, but the slight narrowing of his eyes revealed a trace of anger at being slighted. Worry, gravity, and silent curses intertwined and rose across Shohoku's bench.

Yet amid that oppressive atmosphere, no one noticed the faint disappointment and dissatisfaction that quietly flashed through Chi Tong's otherwise placid eyes on Ryonan's bench.

Ryonan's performance did not surprise him.

In the original story, this team had already possessed the strength to challenge the nation. They had Sendoh, Yu Zhu, a mature system, and abundant experience.

But the problem was that this Ryonan was no longer the team from the original story.

Over the past week, he had forcibly integrated the lineup and rebuilt their tactical system.

He had thought that the team he had personally trained would only be stronger than in the original story, faster in rhythm, and more relentless in pressure.

Yet although they were indeed riding high and playing with flowing ease, a sense of complacency—as though victory were already assured—hung over the entire team like an invisible mist.

It gave Chi Tong the feeling that all his efforts had been for nothing.

That was right. They simply lacked ambition.

Ryonan indeed held every advantage now, and the 15:0 score was enough to prove the gap in strength.

But the problem was that, deep down, they still did not regard Shohoku as a true opponent. In their eyes, this was merely an ordinary blowout. This was not a matter of ability, but mentality.

Otherwise, with the current pace and dominance of the game, Ryonan should already have been leading by more than twenty points.

It was not that Chi Tong was being overly demanding. On a basketball court, victory and defeat often turned on a single instant. He never demanded perfection, but he could not tolerate underestimating the enemy. In his view, carelessness was equivalent to defeat.

Even one lazy transition back on defense, one moment of distraction while helping, or one arrogant missed assignment could become the starting point of an opponent's comeback.

And Chi Tong would never allow such an irreparable situation to occur.

Just then, his mismatched pupils suddenly flickered, as if he had sensed something.

He noticed a red figure sneaking along the sideline like a cat stealing fish, quietly creeping up behind Tiangang Maoyi.

It was Sakuragi Hanamichi.

Chi Tong raised a brow, amusement flashing in his eyes. But he said nothing and gave no warning. He simply watched quietly, as though enjoying a farce about to unfold.

Tiangang Maoyi was completely unaware. He only felt a chilly gust behind him, as if the wind had blown past—or as if something were staring at him.

He instinctively hunched his shoulders, an inexplicable sense of foreboding rising in his chest.

Sakuragi Hanamichi pressed his hands together, his index and middle fingers held straight like two sharp spears.

Mischievous light gleamed in his eyes, and a wicked grin spread across his lips. He leaned forward slightly, ready to strike.

The next instant, he launched himself with lightning speed, his spear plunging straight into the courtyard.

For that instant, it seemed as though even the air had been pierced through.

An "Aaaagh!"—a miserable scream so shrill it changed pitch—burst from Tiangang Maoyi's mouth. Like an injured beast, it rang through every corner of the gym. In that instant, he felt an indescribable current surge up from the depths of his rear and shoot straight to the crown of his head.