Chapter 115: Let Me Teach You Free Throws

“Take your shot whenever you get the chance.” After a failed offensive attempt, He Xinghui signaled his teammates to play normally—there was no need to deliberately seek him out. If they focused too much on him, the Cavaliers could easily set up targeted defenses. As long as they guarded the passing lanes, they had a high chance of stealing the ball.

So He Xinghui told his teammates to go ahead and test the waters first, to see if the Cavaliers could really keep their composure while trailing by a large margin.

Once He Xinghui gave the word, the game took on an odd rhythm. Though he didn’t have the ball, two defenders constantly shadowed him. Meanwhile, Cassell, the one holding the ball, faced hardly any pressure.

The strangest thing was that even when He Xinghui retreated two or three meters beyond the three-point line, two defenders still stuck close to him.

“Maybe I should call the Vice Joker to play a game of Dou Dizhu?” He Xinghui joked.

“I won’t let you catch the ball,” Jones shot back.

“Wow, why do you say that with such pride? Is two-on-one with LeBron that honorable for you?” Without good chances to shoot, He Xinghui was almost eager to have a chat.

The two of them bantered, but it was James who bore the brunt. Jones didn’t see anything shameful about a two-on-one, but James certainly did.

With three players off the court at halftime, the Cavaliers’ interior was wide open. Maggette charged in with reckless abandon, scoring easily in two consecutive possessions.

The Cavaliers’ fans felt disgusted. What kind of play was that? Had they given up completely?

During the broadcast, Barkley mocked, “LeBron and Jones are doing well—they’ve successfully traded away He.”

On offense, He Xinghui increased his gamble on steals. The first attempt failed, and he lost his defensive position as a result.

James, naturally, seized the opportunity, crab-stepping his way to the basket and drawing a foul on Wilcox. Unfortunately, James missed both free throws.

Beside him, He Xinghui stifled a laugh. A franchise star missing two free throws—it was a morale killer.

On the other end, Mobley quickly scored two points for the Clippers.

They were all NBA-level players; the skill gap wasn’t nearly as wide as the fame difference.

The Cavaliers’ remaining three players trying to contain the Clippers’ four was a pipe dream.

After several possessions, the Clippers had embarked on a 10-2 scoring run.

Helpless, Mike Brown called a timeout again.

Though the outcome no longer mattered, the process couldn’t look too ugly. He needed to do something to prove he wasn’t just a bystander.

“Jones, fall back. When He moves away from the three-point line, have LeBron guard him one-on-one. Then, when he approaches the line or tries to drive, collapse with a double team…” Mike Brown prepared to gamble, betting that He Xinghui’s ultra-long-range shots wouldn’t be accurate.

If He maintained his shooting accuracy even from extreme distance, Brown would have to admit defeat.

After the timeout, He immediately noticed one defender missing from his side. He began moving actively again.

Though James could keep pace, completely preventing He from receiving the ball was impossible.

Soon, the ball landed in He Xinghui’s hands, and once again it was a one-on-one duel with James.

James anticipated a shot and prepared to block.

He guessed right.

He Xinghui seized the rare opportunity to shoot, launching a forced attempt.

The ball missed, but He was unfazed. If the Cavaliers dared to leave him open like that, he would keep shooting relentlessly.

He’s missed the shot, and Mike Brown clenched his fist on the sidelines, convinced his gamble was paying off. Nobody sane could shoot so accurately from that position.

Just as Brown was relieved and the fans worried, the Clippers pushed for another possession.

He Xinghui continued holding the ball near the logo, with James just a step away.

Then He shot again, this time from an even more outrageous distance.

Swish.

The ball sailed cleanly through the net.

“Wow!”

“Thirty-four!”

The crowd erupted in astonishment.

Though it was a score like any other, the visual spectacle of an ultra-long three-pointer was completely different.

On offense, He continued his risky attempts at steals.

He didn’t care how many easy drives he might give James; the Clippers just needed to score more points to keep the game out of garbage time.

When He focused all his energy on steals, the results were impressive.

After all, his wingspan was exceptional.

Under his suffocating defense, James made a turnover. He Xinghui grabbed the ball and charged forward, with James scrambling to catch up.

The scene mirrored the opening moments of the game.

He raced to the three-point line and fired a shot. James slapped at the ball, grazing He’s hand.

The sensation was like being scraped by sandpaper.

The ball rimmed out.

Fortunately, the referee called a shooting foul, awarding He three free throws.

He made the first, but the second seemed affected by the contact and bounced off the rim.

James’ expression softened slightly. If He had made all three, the foul would have been meaningless.

At least now, they lost only one point—no big loss.

He noticed James’s look and suddenly smiled. “Hey LeBron, watch closely—I’m going to teach you how to shoot free throws.”

The Clippers’ players smirked.

James darkened but said nothing. Such mild trash talk hardly fazed him.

However, He backed his words with a mocking gesture.

He bought a guaranteed shot from the system store, turned his back to the basket, and said nothing.

“What’s he doing?”

James, players from both teams, coaches, fans, commentators, security, cleaners, bodyguards, even babies—everyone was baffled.

But they didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

He lifted the ball, tossed it backward over his head, and strolled toward his own half.

The basketball traced a perfect arc and, under countless eyes, dropped through the hoop.

“What the—Is this some kind of mystical Eastern magic?” Barkley cursed wildly.

No one could deny how stunning that scene was.

Though such moves might have been practiced or even pulled off in training, never before had anyone attempted, let alone succeeded, in a formal game.

The chances of making it were minuscule, and every point in a real match was precious.

Yet He Xinghui dared to try without fear of failure, as if possessed by unshakable confidence.

And he made it.

This…

“God, god, god.”

No MVP title could capture He Xinghui’s brilliance—only one word sufficed.

God.

Only a god could perform such a miracle.