A 100-Point Gap (Part 1)

He clenched his teeth so hard they chattered, his breathing heavy like a bellows, the veins at his temples throbbing.

He glared viciously at Yu Zhu's upright back, his nails nearly digging into his palms. Just wait!

Second by second, the game ticked away, and the situation on the court had completely tipped to one side.

Ryonan had thoroughly crushed Kawanohe, from start to finish, from the paint to the perimeter, from offense to defense.

Ryonan's strength had far exceeded their expectations.

Whenever they tried to organize an offense, the ball was stolen the moment it crossed half court. When they tried to slow down and steady their rhythm, Uekusa Tomoyuki and Sendoh's suffocating defense was like two iron nets, forcing mistake after mistake. When they tried to use physicality to force their way inside, Yu Zhu stood beneath the basket like an immovable wrathful deity, blocking shots, boxing out, and grabbing rebounds with ruthless precision.

Less than ten minutes into the game, Kawanohe's offense was like a throat being strangled. They came up empty again and again, every possession feeling like a struggle through a swamp.

The 43–0 on the electronic scoreboard left everyone dumbfounded.

The Kawanohe players were all bent over with their hands braced on their knees, their chests heaving violently. Their ragged breathing sounded like a broken beehive, especially clear in the deathly silent gym.

Sweat streamed down their foreheads and temples, splashing onto the floor and blooming into dark circles.

Their pregame arrogance and confidence had long been crushed to pieces, completely gone. In its place was a deep-seated exhaustion and oppression—the fear that seeped from their hearts after being utterly suppressed.

Yamamoto Yitai stood near the free-throw line with his head lowered, his chest heaving as he stared fixedly at the floor. Yu Zhu's