A 100-Point Gap (2)

As he spoke, he turned his gaze toward Xiangtian Yanyi and Fukuda Kicchou.

"Fukuda, Xiangtian, you're up in the second half!"

Xiangtian Yanyi and Fukuda Kicchou took the court, joined by three reserve players who rarely had the chance to play.

Their faces held excitement and nervousness, but more than anything, they carried the pent-up drive of people who had waited too long for their turn.

Even with both sides sending in their reserves, the balance of power on the court remained firmly tilted toward Ryonan.

The reason was simple: Chi Tong's training never distinguished between starters and reserves.

Though these end-of-the-bench players lacked game experience, their tactical awareness, fundamentals, and physical conditioning had long since been forcibly raised to a new level through relentless devilish training.

Thus, while the second half lacked the overwhelming rout of the first, Ryonan's offense remained smooth and its defense remained compact.

Kawanohe's reserves initially tried to organize an offense, but as the score gap kept widening, their composure began to collapse bit by bit.

One mistake led to another, then a missed shot, followed by a string of bricks.

Their movements grew stiffer, their eyes more vacant, and their running slower.

By the time the second half had barely passed its midpoint, the scoreboard read 94:20.

Kawanohe's players ran mechanically across the court, their passes limp and powerless, their defense nonexistent.

They were like empty shells stripped of all will, mechanically moving across the court as they waited for the final whistle to set them free.

Off the court, Chi Tong stood with his arms folded, quietly watching the scene.

He felt no sympathy whatsoever for Kawanohe's dead fish. His eyes only held a trace of boredom, like a hunter looking at prey that had long since fallen, with no interest in sparing