69novels Chapter 6: Offensive Instructions – Complete Conquest
Chapter 6: Offensive Instructions – Complete Conquest
Lin Hao twirled the basketball in his fingertips, slowly walked to the three-point line, and beckoned to Richardson, who was still frozen in place. The nonchalant smile on his face made Richardson grit his teeth.
Lin Hao's teammates had already surrounded him in layers on the sidelines. Those who had been mocking him just moments before were now craning their necks, barely daring to breathe. A three-round shutout of the team's leader—not just on the Warriors, but among all the rookies in the NBA, few dared to do it, let alone succeed.
Troy Murphy, the substitute player who had previously bet $20 that Lin Hao would score a goal, was now clutching the bill so tightly it was burning hot, muttering repeatedly, "Just one goal, just one goal is enough."
Richardson took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the anger he felt from being defensively overwhelmed. He knew he had underestimated his opponent, allowing the kid to exploit his weakness. In terms of physical talent and offensive skills, how could a starting shooting guard who had played in the league for several years be inferior to a second-round rookie?
He gritted his teeth, lowered his center of gravity, spread his arms, and assumed the most standard defensive stance. His eyes were fixed on the basketball in Lin Hao's hands, and he said viciously, "Kid, don't get cocky! If you've got the guts, come at me. If I let you score a single point, I'll fucking..."
"Stop with the nonsense," Lin Hao interrupted him, casually slamming the basketball to the ground. "Let's focus on defense first."
As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Hao moved with the ball.
Unlike Richardson, he didn't rely on explosive power to charge forward, nor did he use any fancy crossover dribbling. He simply used a simple crossover in front of his body, with a slow pace, but with an inexplicable awkwardness that made Richardson unable to predict where he would go next.
Richardson's nerves tightened instantly, his eyes fixed on Lin Hao's shoulder, terrified that he would be so clearly predicted again, just like before. But the longer he stared, the more panicked he became—Lin Hao's shoulder didn't sway, his hips didn't move, and he seemed to be moving without any habitual movements, making it impossible to discern the direction of his breakthrough.
In the half-second that Richardson was stunned, Lin Hao suddenly took a step to the right, assuming a breakthrough to the right. Richardson subconsciously moved to the right, but after only half a step, he saw Lin Hao flip his wrist, pull the ball back to his left hand, and take a step to the left.
This sudden change in rhythm completely shattered Richardson's center of gravity.
Immediately afterwards, Lin Hao used a smooth Euro step, moving left and right, slipping past Richardson like an eel. By the time Richardson reacted and turned to defend, Lin Hao had already jumped and easily put the ball into the basket.
"Whoosh."
The basketball swished through the net, making a crisp, clean sound.
1: 0.
The sidelines erupted instantly!
"My God! That Euro step! It's so smooth!"
"Jason was actually outmaneuvered in one move? Am I seeing things?"
"Just who is this kid? His defense is so amazing, and his offense is just as outrageous?"
Lin Hao landed, picked up the basketball, and casually tossed it back to Richardson, who was still standing there in a daze. He even clapped his hands, and like a coach on the sidelines, he spoke in a serious tone:
"Look, you have to take the steps like this. Breaking through isn't just about running fast; rhythm is more important than anything else. Your defense just now was like a roly-poly toy; you'd fall over with the slightest touch. Even the middle schoolers I coach are better at maintaining their balance."
Richardson's face instantly turned red to his ears, then darkened, as if a dye shop had been opened. In his twenty-plus years of life and all those years playing basketball, this was the first time he'd ever been given a live, hands-on lesson on the court, like being taught a child!
"Stop talking nonsense! Let's go again!" Richardson roared, picked up the basketball and threw it back to Lin Hao. He got into a defensive stance again, this time sticking even closer to Lin Hao, as if he wanted to stick to him and not give him any chance to break through.
He made up his mind: this kid's breakthrough is impressive, I'll stick to him and not let him go any further, let's see what he can do then!
But Lin Hao seemed to have read his mind. After getting the ball, he didn't even try to drive into the paint.
He stood a step inside the three-point line, dribbling the ball leisurely. As Richardson closed in, Lin Hao suddenly lowered his weight, preparing to drive. Richardson instinctively took a half-step back, ready to block his path, but Lin Hao suddenly gathered the ball, pushed off the ground with both feet, and jumped straight up.
Pull-up jump shot!
Richardson's center of gravity was still shifting backward, and he didn't have time to jump and block. He could only watch helplessly as Lin Hao stretched his body in the air, flicked his wrist, and the basketball flew towards the basket in a perfect arc.
Another crisp "swish," and the ball swished cleanly into the net. 2:0.
Two rounds, two shots made.
The teammates on the sidelines had completely gone crazy, banging on the scorer's table and yelling, and even the assistant coach couldn't help but applaud.
Richardson stood there, completely numb.
His prized defense was like paper against this rookie, utterly ineffective. What frustrated him even more was that every basket the rookie scored served as a lesson in itself, which was even more painful than being dunked on!
Lin Hao landed, looked at his utterly dejected expression, and added, "See, a pull-up jump shot isn't just about jumping; you have to know how to fake your opponent's balance. Just now, I lowered my shoulder and you ran backward like a dog seeing firecrackers at the village entrance. Who else would I fake out if not you?"
Upon hearing this, his teammates on the sidelines burst into laughter. Even some of the players who had previously mocked Lin Hao along with Richardson couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Richardson was completely enraged, his eyes bloodshot. He grabbed the basketball and slammed it into Lin Hao's arms, gritting his teeth as he said, "Again! If you're so capable, don't drive or shoot, just back down me! I don't believe you can score!"
He is 1.98 meters tall and weighs more than ten kilograms more than Lin Hao. Back-to-back fighting is his strength. He doesn't believe that this skinny Chinese kid can beat him in a back-to-back fight!
The laughter from the sidelines stopped instantly, and everyone looked at Lin Hao with curiosity in their eyes.
Back-to-the-basket moves rely heavily on physical talent and footwork in the paint. How could a rookie, especially an Asian rookie, dare to play back-to-the-basket moves against an NBA-caliber starting shooting guard?
Lin Hao simply raised an eyebrow, took the basketball, walked to the free-throw line, turned his back to Richardson, and held the ball protectively in his arms.
"Okay, I'll grant your wish."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Richardson suddenly pressed himself against Lin Hao's back, using his weight advantage to push him away. But as soon as he exerted his strength, he realized something was wrong—Lin Hao looked thin, but his lower body was as stable as if it were rooted to the ground. He used all his strength, but he couldn't move the other man an inch.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Lin Hao sensed the direction of Richardson's force and slowly took two steps toward the inside. He didn't try to withstand it head-on; every time Richardson exerted force, he would deflect it, causing Richardson's energy to hit empty air and making him feel suffocated.
Just as Richardson was about to push him again, Lin Hao suddenly turned sharply to the left. Richardson was instantly thrown off balance and instinctively lunged to the left. But Lin Hao had only turned halfway when he twisted sharply back, executing a beautiful backspin that sent Richardson flying.
Immediately afterwards, Lin Hao jumped easily, turned and shot, and the basketball once again swished smoothly into the basket. 3-0.
Three rounds, three completely different ways of scoring: Euro step, pull-up jumper, and post-up move. Every move was clean and crisp, and all went straight into the net.
The entire match ended 11-0, a shutout.
The entire training hall fell completely silent.
Everyone stared at Lin Hao in the center of the arena, their eyes no longer filled with mockery or disdain, but with shock and admiration.
Jason Richardson, the team's star player, dunk champion, and an All-Star caliber player averaging 20+ points per game, was actually shut out in a one-on-one match by a rookie who was at the end of the second round?
If this were told to others, who would believe it?
Richardson plopped down on the ground, staring at the basketball hoop, stunned for a long time. He felt his worldview had been turned upside down; his basketball skills, which he was so proud of, were like children playing house in front of this kid.
He looked up at Lin Hao, his voice hoarse, and squeezed out a sentence through clenched teeth:
"Who the hell are you?"
Lin Hao walked over, reached out and pulled him up, patted him on the shoulder, and grinned: "What? You're convinced now?"
Richardson remained silent, which was taken as tacit agreement.
"That's good enough." Lin Hao clapped his hands, turned to look at his teammates watching from the sidelines, and shouted with a smile, "Did you all hear that? Jason lost the bet earlier, so he has to pay for the whole team's meals for a month! Remember, I want meat, steak, barbecue, fried chicken, anything is fine, but don't make that bland salad, even a dog wouldn't eat that."
His teammates burst into laughter, chanting, "We heard you, Jason! We want steak!"
"Don't make a salad! We want meat too!"
Richardson's face was as black as the bottom of a pot, but he didn't argue. He understood the rule of a bet. He just looked at Lin Hao, still full of doubts. Where did this kid come from? How could he be so powerful?
Lin Hao seemed to read his mind. He turned around and walked to his suitcase, which he had placed on the side of the field. He opened the suitcase, rummaged around for a while, and pulled out a can of yellow peaches and a stainless steel spoon, which he handed to Richardson.
Here, take it.
Richardson took the can, looking bewildered, and stared at the Chinese characters printed on it, completely baffled: "What's this?"
"Canned yellow peaches, our Northeast treasure," Lin Hao said earnestly. "Eat them, and you'll understand."
Richardson opened the can with some skepticism, and a sweet aroma immediately wafted out. He had never eaten anything like this before. Looking at the bright yellow peach flesh inside, he hesitated for a long time before using a spoon to fork up a piece and putting it in his mouth.
The sweet juice burst in his mouth, and the soft, tender peach flesh melted in his mouth without being greasy at all. That refreshing sweetness instantly dispelled the anger and frustration he had just felt.
His eyes lit up instantly.
"My God! What kind of magical thing is this?!"
Lin Hao couldn't help but laugh when he saw his naive and unworldly expression.
What he didn't know was that this can of yellow peaches would soon become the "mysterious Eastern winning buff" that everyone in the Warriors' locker room would fight over.
The next morning, as soon as Lin Hao arrived at the training hall, he was blocked at the entrance of the locker room.
Richardson glanced around furtively, and seeing no one was around, he leaned close to Lin Hao, lowered his voice, and asked with an embarrassed expression:
"Um... Lin, do you still have that canned yellow peaches you gave me yesterday?"