Chapter 54: At Odds From the Very Start

Different opponents require different skills to counter them. He Xinghui was well aware of Davis’s technical strengths, which was why he had exchanged for an A-level skill: King of the North.

King of the North: Gain the driving ability of DeRozan, the King of the North, for forty minutes (counted by playing time), at a cost of 500 Rage Points.

Once the skill was activated, He Xinghui reached out for the ball. Up to this point, he had played off the ball, but now he was preparing to attack with the ball in hand—a surprise assault.

This wasn’t part of Dunleavy’s tactical arrangement, but who could refuse He Xinghui’s current favor? When he asked for the ball, Cassell had no choice but to pass it to him; otherwise, a scene of internal discord would unfold, something the reporters were always eager to see.

With the ball in hand, He Xinghui immediately assumed a triple-threat stance.

The move almost made Davis laugh out loud. He didn’t believe for a second that He Xinghui had any real driving or passing ability; he suspected this was just a ruse, and the real intent was to shoot.

Such a trick was far too naïve.

Davis pressed in even closer, ready to jump and block at any moment.

But just then, He Xinghui’s foot moved.

Davis was too close. By the time he realized it, it was too late to block He Xinghui’s driving lane.

He didn’t foul either. He might as well let He Xinghui break through—after all, there were teammates under the basket.

After shaking off Davis, He Xinghui immediately pulled up for a mid-range shot.

With little interference—and his natural accuracy, now boosted by the King of the North skill—the shot was nothing but net.

“Is anyone guarding me? Is there anyone on me at all?”

He Xinghui shouted at the rest of the Celtics, but the barb was aimed straight at Davis.

This taunt, mocking Davis’s defense, was originally coined by Larry Bird.

Pierce and the others glanced at Davis when they heard it. Their looks were questioning, making Davis burn with anger.

The possession switched, and Davis called for the ball, giving He Xinghui a taste of his own medicine.

At this point, Davis was the Celtics’ second scoring option, with a formidable ability to drive and finish at the rim—his dunks were a sight to behold.

He Xinghui wasn’t alone in struggling to defend Davis; many before him had failed.

“Is anyone guarding me?” Davis shouted at He Xinghui.

Yet the same trash talk, coming from different mouths, carried a different weight.

He Xinghui had directed it at Pierce and the others to make Davis feel as if he’d let his teammates down.

But when Davis shouted at He Xinghui, it didn’t have the same effect.

The Clippers were back on offense, with He Xinghui bringing the ball up again.

This time, Davis chose to defend against the drive, keeping some distance.

He Xinghui faked a drive, drew Davis in, then immediately stepped back and took the shot.

Davis’s body weight had already shifted, so he couldn’t close out in time.

It was almost an open look—He Xinghui’s hand rose and fell, nailing a three-pointer.

If he had only DeRozan’s driving ability, he would have struggled to be efficient when targeted. That’s why DeRozan’s ceiling is considered limited.

But He Xinghui now possessed not only DeRozan’s driving skills temporarily, but also a reliable three-point shot.

Just one more skill, and the difficulty of defending him multiplied.

“Nice imitation skills. Come on, keep it up,” He Xinghui said with a smile.

Davis’s face darkened. He wanted to respond, but his tactical role on the team was nowhere near as prominent as He Xinghui’s. Besides, step-back threes weren’t his specialty.

The Celtics went on offense. West passed to Pierce, who, ever the loyal teammate, swung it back to Davis, giving him another chance to answer.

Davis wasn’t foolish enough to try a step-back three. He continued to attack the rim.

This time, though, He Xinghui was ready. He got in front of Davis and forced him to stop.

Davis tried to back He Xinghui down, then gave him a shove.

Awkwardly, he couldn’t budge him.

He forced up a shot and air-balled it.

He Xinghui stood 197 centimeters tall and weighed 84 kilos. Though slim, he wasn’t the lightest in the league.

In front of him, Davis was even thinner—201 centimeters and 89 kilos.

On paper, Davis looked heavier.

But whether someone is thin isn’t determined by weight alone; the size of their frame matters too.

Davis had broader shoulders than He Xinghui, so despite the extra weight, he looked like he had little muscle.

He Xinghui’s shoulders were narrower, making him seem petite next to other players, but his muscles were firm and compact.

“That was a terrible shot selection,” He Xinghui said.

Davis was angry again.

It wasn’t just He Xinghui’s opinion—it echoed the mainstream media’s criticism. The media acknowledged Davis’s offensive talent but disapproved of his shot selection, blaming it for his low shooting percentage and labeling him a selfish stats-chaser.

Possession changed, and He Xinghui drove again.

Davis was slow laterally and had to guard against He Xinghui’s three-point threat, leaving himself vulnerable.

After Davis was beaten, Al Jefferson stepped up to help.

He Xinghui could have shot, but in a split second, he passed to a wide-open Brand.

With that kind of opportunity, Brand could have made the shot with one eye closed.

The ball went in.

“See that? That’s called making the right play—the essential quality of a leader,” He Xinghui taunted Davis.

This was why he chose to pass—to draw a sharp contrast with Davis and mock his lack of leadership.

From Davis’s earlier comment—“I thought the team picked him to support me”—it was clear Davis had fantasized about being the team’s core, the leader.

Alas, his ambitions were sky-high, but fate was frail as paper.

“F*** off, get lost,” Davis spat back, unable to find a real retort.

Of course, he didn’t just fight back with words—his actions followed.

By now, He Xinghui had rattled Davis, making him lose his composure. Davis went one-on-one again, trying to prove his leadership.

Perhaps his stubbornness moved the basketball gods, because this time he managed to hit a difficult shot.

But on the sidelines, Rivers was already fuming.

If the team had to rely on difficult shots every possession, they were doomed.

Basketball, unlike soccer, is less swayed by luck. The more tough shots you take, the lower your overall shooting percentage.

Still, Rivers didn’t call a timeout immediately. The game had just begun, after all. And Davis had just scored—no coach calls a timeout to criticize a player right after he makes a shot.

“See? That’s leadership,” Davis yelled at He Xinghui, flushed with excitement after scoring.

Unbeknownst to him, Pierce was momentarily stunned by the remark.

If Davis was the leader, then what did that make him?