He opened his mouth, wanting to argue, to shout, to say that he had not yet admitted defeat, but it was as if his throat had been blocked. He could not utter a single word.
The next moment, Chi Tong hesitated not at all. Right before Masashi Kawata, he slowly raised the basketball in his hand.
His movements were calm and unhurried, without the slightest trace of impatience. His arm bent slightly as he lifted the ball to his chest, his gaze steadily targeting Akita's basket. He looked so confident, as though this shot was certain to go in without any suspense.
At the sight, Masashi Kawata's pupils contracted sharply, and an intense desire to survive surged up within him.
He wanted to step forward to stop him, to reach out for a block, to defend Akita's last shred of dignity.
Yet for some reason, his body seemed frozen solid. He was completely rooted to the spot, his legs as heavy as lead, unable to move even a fraction. He could only watch Chi Tong raise the basketball and prepare to shoot, while he himself could do nothing at all, reduced to a helpless spectator.
With a light flick of his wrist, Chi Tong casually sent the basketball flying. The motion looked as effortless as play, without any visible exertion, yet the ball carried a fierce gust of wind as it flew toward Akita's basket.
The basketball traced a beautiful and precise arc through the air, passing over Masashi Kawata's head. It was not fast, but its accuracy was terrifying, without the slightest deviation.
Masashi Kawata stood frozen in place, his eyes fixed desperately on that soaring arc, his gaze filled with despair.
An incomparably crisp swish suddenly rang out in the silent gymnasium.
The ball went in!
At the