Chapter 56

“Alright!” He Chen didn’t refuse again.

Even if he took the first shot, he had plenty of ways to make Fang Yifan lose without a word to say.

Fang Yifan immediately crouched slightly into defense, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, clearly ready to steal the ball and counterattack at any moment.

Seeing He Chen dribble sideways, he immediately closed in, applying pressure and reaching out to steal the ball.

The moment he made contact, he felt something was off.

Though He Chen was classically handsome, his build wasn’t imposing—he looked completely ordinary, no visible muscles—but now that he was pressed against him, it felt like hitting a wall; he couldn’t budge him at all.

He was even being forcibly shoved backward by this moving wall, his ribs aching with every impact; after just a few pushes, he couldn’t take it anymore and stepped back voluntarily, clearing the path for the offense.

He watched helplessly as He Chen dribbled in for a layup, the ball brushing the backboard and going in.

For a moment, he regretted it.

If he’d known He Chen was this strong, he never should’ve let him take the first shot.

When the skill levels are close, whoever gets the first move might just win.

But he quickly realized something was wrong—heard the murmurs around him—and burst into wild laughter, pointing at He Chen: “You traveled! Hah! You actually traveled!”

“What traveled?” He Chen asked, feigning ignorance—he wasn’t in a hurry to win, he wanted to play with him first!

“Of course you’re into flashy basketball—you don’t even fully understand the basic rules!” Fang Yifan sneered. “Layups are three steps, not four! You took an extra step! That basket doesn’t count!”

“Nonsense!” He Chen laughed. “This is LeBron’s classic layup—how could it be traveling?”

Who knows better—you or the NBA?

If this counts as traveling, how did LeBron become king and earn the title of second-best GOAT?

The greatest in NBA history, just behind Michael Jordan, even outshining Kobe Bryant, the Black Mamba.

Are you telling me he’s been traveling all these years and his baskets shouldn’t count?

“...” Fang Yifan and many NBA fans fell silent collectively, their expressions twisted.

Was He Chen right?

Absolutely right!

But this was a well-known secret everyone understood but never dared to say aloud.

Could you really say the NBA was a joke—that they could just elevate anyone to emperor, GOAT, or second-best GOAT whenever they wanted?

Wouldn’t that make all of us NBA fans look like fools?

This He Chen was as sharp-tongued as ever, with a perspective as venomous as a snake, always striking where least expected.

And he was truly ruthless!

Not just a little hater!

But a major hater!

He actually dared to go after the biggest targets!

Though Qiao Yingzi and the other girls didn’t follow NBA, they quickly understood what happened from the boys’ rapid explanations and guessed this was He Chen deliberately teasing Fang Yifan, letting him win this way.

“Fine, I traveled. Your turn!” Sure enough, He Chen admitted the travel, voided the first basket, and passed the ball to Fang Yifan.

Seeing He Chen toss the ball over, Fang Yifan instinctively raised his hand to shield his face—but realizing dozens were watching, he stopped this weak defensive move mid-motion and instead mimicked He Chen’s flashy catch, smoothly dribbling to the inbound spot, then gesturing for He Chen to come forward—he was going to attack.

He Chen complied and moved in to defend.

Fang Yifan immediately perked up, crouching low, bouncing the ball wildly between his legs, shoulders shifting, ready to break through at any moment.

He hoped to knock He Chen flat on his back right in front of everyone—that would settle every score.

Unfortunately, He Chen remained unmoved, never stumbling or losing balance as Fang Yifan exaggerated his moves.

Fang Yifan silently cursed his luck, but still decisively chose to drive straight through.

Since you won’t stick close, don’t blame me for accelerating past you.

If I can’t shake you, I’ll just score and make you call me dad—that’ll still be revenge!

Just as he dribbled past He Chen and was about to turn his head for a mocking close-up stare, his hand went slack—the ball didn’t bounce back as expected. His heart dropped—he looked down and saw the ball was gone.

Amid the crowd’s gasps and the girls’ deafening cheers, he didn’t need to look—he knew exactly where the ball was.

When he looked up, there was He Chen, calmly dribbling, with no intention of capitalizing on his mistake for a fast-break score.

Damn it!

This was such utter contempt!

Fang Yifan seethed with anger but didn’t lose his composure—he pressed forward again, denying He Chen any chance at a fast break, swinging his arms, trying to copy He Chen’s steal.

But he couldn’t do it.

He hadn’t even seen how He Chen stole the ball—it was too fast, too smooth.

As expected, he struggled against He Chen’s LeBron-style shoulder bump, helplessly watching as He Chen shoved him aside and began another layup.

One step, two steps, three steps!

This time, He Chen didn’t take four steps—perfect three-step layup, the ball brushing the backboard, gliding smoothly into the basket!

“That’s 1-0 now, right?” He Chen smiled at Fang Yifan.

“...Again!” Fang Yifan gritted his teeth, hearing the deafening cheers around him.

He refused to believe it—he wouldn’t get crushed 7-0!

That’s right!

His confidence had collapsed; his expectations had dropped from knocking He Chen down and humiliating him, to just beating him, to now fearing he might lose—and he absolutely didn’t want to end up like Ji Yangyang, getting a humiliating 7-0.

Though he didn’t know the 7-0 meme, he instinctively felt this was the ultimate humiliation!

“Why did you go out of your way to provoke him?” Qiao Yingzi couldn’t help complaining.

She now knew He Chen was just teasing Fang Yifan—the four-step layup was both mockery and a deliberate gift, giving Fang Yifan no excuse not to surrender.

And He Chen dared to do this only because he had absolute confidence in his skill.

Fang Yifan knew He Chen was extraordinary—Ji Yangyang, in his own prized racing domain, had been brutally crushed and his dreams shattered by He Chen—so how could he dare challenge He Chen in basketball, a game anyone could dabble in?

And this isn’t even your real strength!

If you were actually good enough at basketball to be a sports specialty student, I wouldn’t say a word.

But you’re not!

You know a little about everything, but master nothing!

“Why else would he?” Huang Zhitao’s lazy remark made Qiao Yingzi freeze, her discomfort deepening.

She had absolutely no feelings for Fang Yifan.

But for He Chen...

Now that they were clashing, what did this mean?

Wasn’t it like Fang Yifan fighting for his best friend Taozi and Ji Yangyang?

Especially when spoken by Taozi herself—the original party and the only one who knew everything—it sent her emotions spiraling.

Embarrassment, shame, shyness, anxiety—she was overwhelmed, biting her lip and staying silent, terrified she’d blurt out something like “Stop fighting, you won’t kill each other!”—that would be a lifelong black mark.