Chapter Forty-Three: The Competition Ends

The pace of the game on the court suddenly slowed down. Feng Yisheng thought to himself that if things continued this way, the basketball team might just catch up with the score. With that thought flashing through his mind, Feng Yisheng quickly called for a timeout from the referee.

…

Zhou Chuyi, Yun Longkong, Wan Shui, and Luo Shan were all drenched in sweat, their faces glistening. Fortunately, it was only March and still rather cool; otherwise, with the intensity of the game so far, the four of them would have been unable to carry on. Feng Yisheng whispered something into each of their ears during the break, surreptitiously channeling a bit of spiritual energy into them as well.

The game resumed.

None of the four found it strange that their stamina was holding up so well. They all figured that the first three quarters had largely been carried by Feng Yisheng on offense, while they focused on defense, saving much of their own strength.

…

Back on the court, Wang Hai, who had resorted to dirty play earlier, seemed to have dislocated his right arm when he was sent flying backward. The basketball team couldn’t come up with another player willing to resort to foul play—at least not someone subtle enough to avoid being caught by the crowd. With Feng Yisheng already ejected, the basketball team no longer saw the remaining four as much of a threat.

Zhuang Bi also decided there was no need for underhanded tactics. With more than a thousand spectators present, being exposed would do his reputation at school no favors.

Far off in the stands, Yang Yong breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that Feng Yisheng was unharmed. Only he truly understood Feng Yisheng’s importance; most present simply marveled at his basketball prowess. But Yang Yong had already discerned that Feng Yisheng’s talent approached NBA-level. Stamina, jumping ability, shooting touch, endurance, speed—each of Feng Yisheng’s attributes far surpassed the average person, even exceeding those of professional NBA players.

Watching the game, Yang Yong noted how, after Feng Yisheng left the court, the remaining four lost ground rapidly, which only underscored how indispensable he was to the team.

…

Five minutes into the game, Feng Yisheng’s team had only scored four points, while the basketball team racked up sixteen. The score now read 107 to 87. The deficit had narrowed from more than forty points to just twenty—proving that the sophomore basketball team, far from pushovers, had real skill. It was only Feng Yisheng’s earlier overwhelming performance that had kept them dominated.

Though the gap was now twenty points, less than three minutes remained on the clock. Scoring twenty points in three minutes would be no small feat.

…

Both teams were utterly exhausted, well past their limits. They were no longer battling on offense, merely doing their utmost to defend.

The final buzzer sounded. The score settled at 111 to 108.

…

Thunderous cheers erupted throughout the gym. It was almost unbelievable—Feng Yisheng had scored eighty-eight points on his own. Many wished the game could have continued, just to witness more of his solo spectacle.

As the game ended, Feng Yisheng strode up to Zhuang Bi and said coolly, “I hope this time, you’ll keep your promise.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the field, ignoring the fury twisting Zhuang Bi’s face.

…

Still panting, Zhou Chuyi walked up to Guan Zhidao and said, “Remember what you promised me.”

“You—!” Guan Zhidao replied helplessly, “Fine, I’ll keep my word.”

Because both teams had called relatively few timeouts, the entire four quarters took less than two hours to play; by the end, the sky had darkened considerably. Many in the audience were already preparing to head home, but this game was destined to become a favorite topic of conversation at Nanshui Foreign Language School for months to come. The sophomore basketball team, however, might well become a laughingstock.

The only regret was that the match held no official status and carried little weight beyond the school. It was like a college team racking up a hundred points against elementary students—a story to amuse, but hardly convincing outside.

…

Feeling light and relaxed, Feng Yisheng quickly made his way home, stopping at the school gate for dinner. Once back, he reluctantly began his revision; it was already the end of March, with just three months left before the end of sophomore year.

His homeroom teacher had been tutoring him on Tuesdays, apparently getting frustrated, and after a few missed sessions, Feng Yisheng decided he no longer wanted He Lan’s help either. In the end, He Lan stopped tutoring him altogether. The key point was that Feng Yisheng showed no intention of apologizing, so the two remained at an impasse.

Meanwhile, Feng Yisheng sent red envelopes containing a thousand yuan each to Zhou Chuyi, Luo Shan, Wan Shui, and Yun Longkong.

…

After about two hours of reviewing, Feng Yisheng glanced at the clock—it was exactly eleven. He washed up, practiced the Pure Yang Method as usual, and then went to bed.

…

Saturday.

Feng Yisheng woke at six, noting it was still early. Nanshui Foreign Language School had a light daily schedule, and there were no weekend make-up classes. After washing up, Feng Yisheng set out for Nanshui Park to exercise.

By the time he reached the park, it was already half-past six and the sky had brightened considerably. There were few people exercising, likely because of the recent rain—many avoided coming out, fearing they’d get caught in a downpour on the way home.

After Feng Yisheng completed a lap around the entire park, more people had arrived. He realized, though, that he had underestimated how much his body had been transformed by the Pure Yang Patriarch. Nanshui Park’s full circuit was over three thousand meters, and even at a slow jog, he’d finished in just under seven minutes. The world record for men’s three thousand meters was seven minutes and twenty seconds. In other words, he had broken the world record without even trying.

If this kept up, there was no real point in further training.

At that thought, Feng Yisheng slapped his forehead. He had it backwards—he only needed to follow the Pure Yang Method step by step. His physical condition was now on par with, if not better than, elite athletes who had trained for years.

In fact, at this point, he was in even better shape than national athletes.

As this realization dawned on him, Feng Yisheng exhaled deeply, his mind suddenly clear, his heart unburdened.

What he didn’t know was that his current physical prowess far outstripped that of any athlete, beyond even his own imagination.

…

After that, Feng Yisheng stopped running and simply walked at a leisurely pace, about to leave the park and head home when—