Basketball System: Rebound of the Underdog

Now, some people might say that gambling the game was the stupidest decision ever.

To some extent, Kai agreed.

There was a very slim chance for them to win this game. Although they were great players, they were still going against the best players in their country. They had been playing together for at least a fourth of their lives, while their team had been rivals for the past year or two.

It was truly incomparable.

However, Kai still looked relaxed.

This was actually better. He had taken the risk.

Through that risk, he had something to lose—and that meant he had something to fight for.

He didn't doubt himself or his teammates, but he understood what losing would mean not just to him but to all of them.

The air in the gym was suffocating. The two teams sat on opposite benches; each player lost in their own thoughts.

On the veterans' bench, Jaw-Long stretched his arms and turned to Marcus, his eyes narrowing. "You know, these kids...they're good. They just need a little more time and a bit more training."

Marcus crossed his arms, his expression neutral, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Jian is the youngest player ever recruited to pro teams. He had gotten offers since he was in his second year! Max, too, seems like a formidable player. He may not stand out in one aspect, but he's a good all-rounder. Jimmy isn't too bad, too. He's a bit too refined and text-book-like, probably because he had been playing by the books since he was a kid, but a player like that is good, too. Zheng, on the other hand, seems to be a hard worker. We can't hate a hard worker."

"And that kid," Jaw-Long continued, jerking his thumb toward Kai, who was staring ahead. "He's got it. He's the real deal. A little rough around the edges, but with the right guidance, I think he can become like—"

"Don't say it," Marcus interrupted, his voice cold.

Jaw-Long blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"You know what I mean," Marcus said, his eyes darkening. "Don't say his name."

For a moment, the bench was silent. Jaw-Long sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he muttered. "But you can't deny it. The Mad Dog—he reminds you of Zhu, doesn't he?"

Marcus didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the court. The silence between them was heavy, and the other veterans exchanged glances. Zhu Haoran was rarely spoken among them, a name tied to tragedy and the team's bitter past.

Before anyone could say more, the doors swung open, and Coach Xu Wei strode in.

His eyes swept over the two benches before he stopped in the center of the court.

Jimmy leaned toward Jian and whispered, "Does my dad know about this?"

Jian shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Jimmy didn't look convinced and stood up. "Coach, does my dad know about this?" he asked loudly.

Coach Xu Wei turned to him. "No, he doesn't."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "Then what—"

"But I don't care," Xu Wei interrupted. "You can go tell him if you want. Go ahead. Call him right now."

Jimmy hesitated, his mouth opening and closing.

Xu Wei stepped closer, his expression cold. "But know this: your father isn't here. I am. And this team needs me more than it needs you, Jimmy. I'm telling you that."

The gym fell silent. For a second, Jimmy looked like he might argue, but then he dropped back onto the bench, earning a soft jab from Jian.

Kai's eyes followed Xu Wei as the coach walked back to the center of the court. He couldn't tell if the man truly believed his own words.

Deep down, Kai suspected that Xu Wei knew he wasn't the revered coach he once was.

Once the pride of Chinese basketball, now he was seen as a relic of the past—a washed-up joke to some. But despite that, Kai didn't say anything.

All of them had to prove something—the stakes were just different.

Xu Wei cleared his throat, snapping everyone's attention back to him. "This will be a shorter game," he announced. "Two quarters."

Max's head shot up. "Two quarters? That's barely—"

"All or nothing," Xu Wei said, cutting him off. His voice was final. "Whoever loses goes."

Dong stretched out his limbs and yawned loudly, capturing everybody's attention.

"All or nothing, huh? I like it. This'll be over quick."

Kai raised his hand, surprising everyone. "Then if we win," he said, his voice loud and clear, "we're letting them go."

"Don't you think that wouldn't be perceived well by the public?"

He turned to face the veterans, his expression hardening.

Muyang barked out a laugh. "Let us go? You've got guts, kid. Confidence, too." He stood up, towering over Kai. "But confidence doesn't win games. Talent does. Experience does. And right now, you guys are not up to par."

Kai didn't flinch. "We'll see."

Muyang's grin widened. "You're welcome to try. But let me tell you something—it's not going to happen. Not in a million years. You guys can go now if you'd like. You're just wasting your time trying to go against us."

Kai pursed his lips. "Feel free to go, too, if you'd like, sir," he deadpanned. "We don't regard this game as a waste of time."

Xu Wei watched the exchange before sighing, his arms crossed.

"Enough talking," he finally said.

Kai didn't take his eyes off Muyang until the older player sat back down. His teammates watched him warily as though he'd grown an extra head.

"Scary. Really scary," Max said, a shiver running down his spine.

"Alright," Coach Xu Wei said, shaking his head. "I don't want to waste any more time. It's less than a month until the opening ceremony of the Global Games. I need my team to be complete by tomorrow at the latest."

"So, let's get this over with," he said, straightening his back.

"Move to the court," he barked.

"I'll be the referee."