Chapter 54

One minute earlier.

Fang Yifan immediately grabbed the basketball and rushed to the other side of the playground to play while waiting for He Chen; when he saw He Chen approaching, he was already prepared.

Watching He Chen laugh and chat with one of the school’s top beauties, Deng Xiaoqi, his envy and rage intensified.

Great.

You threaten my goddess’s chastity, ruin the intimate bond between me and my childhood best friend, make my mother even more irritable, and shatter my life into pieces.

But you?

My goddess speaks up for you, my childhood best friend listens to you, even the catfish spirit Wang Yidi has caught your venomous tongue and now walks with you, laughing and chatting with the tall, singing-and-dancing school beauty.

On one hand, you accumulate countless female friends; on the other, you strip mine away.

You refuse to learn anything proper, so now you’re studying military treatises?

If only I had a spiritual jade pendant around my neck, I’d smash it right at you!

Unfortunately, he didn't!

And even if he did, without the affection of Grandmother Jia—who controls fate—his smash would be utterly useless.

So he could only rely on himself.

He didn’t have a spiritual jade to smash—didn’t he have a basketball?

The angrier he grew, the more he played with his teammate, brewing his plan; as the school’s absolute last in math and physics, he was now in an unprecedented peak state, mentally calculating the trajectory of his strike.

This was a constantly shifting calculation requiring pinpoint control.

He accomplished it.

When He Chen entered the striking range, Fang Yifan acted instantly, prompting his teammate to jump for a shot, while he leaped higher than ever before and precisely slapped the airborne basketball.

The ball aimed at the hoop was instantly deflected, hurtling straight toward He Chen.

As Fang Yifan twisted to watch, he saw the ball’s path would strike He Chen’s face directly—and his face split into an uncontrollable grin of triumph.

What could be more satisfying than a face slap?

Though not a direct slap to He Chen’s face, he slapped the ball—and the ball slapped He Chen’s face; round it off, it was the same as him slapping He Chen.

Crucially, he could easily deny it afterward.

It wasn’t intentional!

Just an accident!

It’s normal in basketball, right?

As for his ecstatic expression?

That’s because I blocked it—a spectacular, unprecedented block! Isn’t it natural to be happy?

Thinking of these advantages, Fang Yifan’s smile grew even brighter.

So satisfying!

But this inner monologue of triumph was too short.

No choice!

The basketball’s flight path was too brief.

Just as he thought it would strike He Chen—who was still chatting with Deng Xiaoqi, not even glancing this way, seemingly oblivious—he saw He Chen, without looking, suddenly reach out and catch the ball mere inches from his handsome face.

Worse, He Chen showed off a one-handed catch.

Among NBA players built like giants, this was basic—after all, their hands were huge, catching was easy.

But among amateur basketball lovers like them, hardly anyone could do it.

Damn it!

He Chen just showed off!

“What are you doing?” Deng Xiaoqi, belatedly realizing, glared at Fang Yifan in fury.

She didn’t believe in “accidental” or “intentional”—she knew this was definitely intentional accident!

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Fang Yifan naturally used his prepared excuse. “Don’t believe me? Ask him!”

His teammate vaguely sensed Fang Yifan’s intent, but couldn’t be sure.

Because he didn’t think Fang Yifan had the full control to pull this off—if he did, wouldn’t that mean he himself was terrible?

So when Fang Yifan pointed at him for confirmation, he nodded instinctively.

“It’s fine,” He Chen saw through Fang Yifan’s scheme, smiled inwardly, and said aloud, tossing the ball back with one hand.

Fang Yifan reached out to catch it—but the predicted trajectory suddenly accelerated and veered off, shooting past his cupped hands and slamming straight into his face.

“What the hell!”

Fang Yifan, stung and furious, still dazed, didn’t understand what happened—when the teammate watching nearby erupted again, shouting in shock.

He’d never seen a basketball accelerate mid-flight like that—it felt deeply unnatural, eerie.

If it wasn’t an accident but deliberate, it was incredible.

Fang Yifan, however, lacked his teammate’s rational, objective stance. He’d planned to smash He Chen’s face with the ball to vent his rage—but after landing the perfect block, he failed utterly, and now He Chen had smacked him right in the face.

Not only did his cheek throb with physical pain, but psychologically, he couldn’t accept the crushing reversal.

He glared at He Chen, burning with rage: “You dare hit me!”

“I’m returning your ball,” He Chen replied with a half-smile. “Didn’t expect you couldn’t catch it. Not intentional. Ask him!”

“Yeah! We all saw it!” Fang Yifan’s teammate now held He Chen in deep awe and respect—and he truly couldn’t believe anyone could deliberately achieve that move, so it must’ve been an accident.

He had no psychological barrier to siding with He Chen, who now appeared far more innocent and credible.

“You—” Fang Yifan seethed.

This incident couldn’t be probed further—he had to admit he was outclassed.

His original plan was to humiliate He Chen, ideally provoke him into a one-on-one basketball duel.

He intended to defeat He Chen in direct confrontation to prove himself!

Why basketball?

Because he’d just learned that He Chen never participated in any PE activities—he clearly only knew those slow, grandfatherly arts like Crane Fist and Turtle Breathing, and was utterly unskilled in basketball, a sport demanding technique and intense physical confrontation.

Meanwhile, he excelled at everything—basketball, soccer, piano, dancing—nothing was beyond him.

Plus, he’d just learned a few basketball tricks and was confident he’d first physically humiliate He Chen, then publicly embarrass him psychologically.

But now He Chen had caught the ball with one hand, tossed it back gently—and pulled off this bizarre maneuver, slamming it straight into Fang Yifan’s face, turning his own pain against him.

Suddenly, his confidence in the basketball face-slap plan wavered.

Should he continue?

He Chen sneered inwardly.

Fang Yifan had no idea what he was capable of!

He practiced four sets of Immortal Crane Qi and Turtle Breathing every day—he’d cultivated something extraordinary. The internal energy of martial arts novels was real, and he’d truly forged it.

His essence, energy, and spirit had all improved dramatically—his senses sharpened, his movements lightning-fast; a simple finger flick could make someone scream and leap. All were effects of internal energy.

Leaving a hidden force on the basketball, causing it to suddenly accelerate and veer mid-flight—just like a satellite using thrusters to adjust orbit—was perfectly scientific.