Chapter Seven: The Miscalculation of the Master Diviner

Payton is hard to deal with when he’s focused, and He Xinghui’s defense still falls short. However, during their heated exchange, He Xinghui managed to accumulate a total of 460 rage points—Payton was clearly infuriated. Including the remaining 15 points, he needed only 25 more rage points to upgrade his one-on-one defense to a B rating. At B level, his defense would match the league average. An A rating would make him eligible for the All-Defensive Third Team, while S level was nearly equivalent to the First Team standard.

But where could he find the remaining 25 points?

Payton seemed to have regained his composure, making it impossible to provoke him further, so He Xinghui had to look for another target.

The Heat’s current lineup included Payton, Haslem, Antoine Walker, Anderson, and Mourning. Haslem, the power forward, wasn’t matched up with He Xinghui, so there was no opportunity for trash talk. Mourning was infamous for his tough demeanor; He Xinghui feared provoking him might result in a few punches. Although it was bound to happen eventually, he’d prefer to avoid unnecessary beatings. Anderson was an unknown, and He Xinghui had no idea what could be used against him.

That left him with the rotund Antoine Walker.

However, James Singleton was the one assigned to defend Walker, and He Xinghui’s height wasn’t ideal for guarding him. Thus, He Xinghui could only target Walker during offensive plays, knowing that Walker’s defense was a disaster—a tall frame wasted, averaging less than one block per game.

Currently, He Xinghui’s offensive strategy was off-ball movement, calling for passes whenever he found an open spot.

On another possession, He Xinghui broke into a chaotic sprint, a completely untactical movement that was hard to predict. It confused not only opponents but his own teammates. After several mysterious maneuvers, He Xinghui found himself in front of Walker and signaled for the ball.

He Xinghui had performed well lately, making three out of five shots for eight points. With the starters off the court, Mobley granted his request for the ball.

He Xinghui caught the pass and shot over Walker, who only made a token effort to contest. Luck was on his side again—he scored despite the interference.

“Is your salary based on your weight?” He Xinghui taunted.

Currently, Walker’s annual salary was a staggering $6.8 million, second highest on the Heat. Yet, he only averaged 12 points and 5.2 rebounds, with poor defense, frequently mocked by the media as overpaid and underperforming.

“Shut up, rookie,” Walker replied.

It was clear Walker lacked the gift for trash talk, defaulting to the generic rookie insult.

He Xinghui chuckled and continued, “You can’t even defend a rookie. So what’s below a rookie? The bugs that rookies eat?”

“F— you!” Walker snapped.

Walker’s intelligence wasn’t high—otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone bankrupt so quickly after retiring despite earning tens of millions. No one knew how he managed to squander his fortune.

Knowing he couldn’t win the verbal battle, Walker decided to show some toughness, pressing his head toward He Xinghui and sparking a confrontation. He Xinghui raised his hands high.

He actually wanted to fight, but his position on the team wasn’t stable yet; he couldn’t afford reckless behavior. Once he became an indispensable star, perhaps he could experience the thrill of an on-court brawl.

The referee immediately blew the whistle, and teammates from both sides rushed in to separate them. Because He Xinghui exercised extreme restraint, the conflict was sudden and dissipated just as quickly. In the end, the referee merely issued a warning to both Walker and He Xinghui.

“Rookie, focus on the game or don’t blame me for getting rough,” the referee cautioned He Xinghui, reminding him not to stir up trouble. While trash talk was allowed, deliberately provoking conflict was something the referees could easily punish—like calling borderline fouls at their discretion.

“Oh, oh, oh! This Chinese kid is so arrogant, daring to provoke Antoine—he nearly got beaten up. This time, he messed with the wrong guy. Antoine is not someone you want to cross,” Brown, the Miami local TV commentator, said, naturally biased toward the Heat.

He’d noticed He Xinghui’s impressive performance and constant trash talking with Heat players, and he’d relish seeing Antoine teach He Xinghui a lesson.

“This kid really has no fear,” Brand commented from the bench.

“I think he’s great—we need that kind of fire. If he could get Wade angry enough to throw a punch, it’d be perfect,” Maggette added. Currently, Wade was the team’s biggest threat. If Wade got ejected for fighting, their chances of winning would rise.

Among the Clippers, quite a few players yearned for victory. The team was often regarded as the worst in the league, making playing for them a thankless task.

At the moment, the Clippers were doing well, with a 12-8 record. This season, they had a shot at making the playoffs, ending a nine-year drought.

The game continued, and the Heat brought their starters back in.

Dunleavy saw this and made substitutions, hesitating when it came to He Xinghui.

He Xinghui had played well recently; the only issue was his defense. Dunleavy decided to let him play a few more possessions. If the opponent exploited him, he’d sub him out; if they didn’t, he’d let He Xinghui stay and score.

Dunleavy made his choice, bringing in Brand and Maggette. Besides He Xinghui, the rest were starters.

“Whoever the rookie is guarding, attack him,” O’Neal conveyed the coach’s instructions.

Heat coach Pat Riley was known as the “Mastermind,” a tough and strategic leader whose coaching prowess was exceptional. He’d already spotted He Xinghui’s weaknesses: limited offensive methods and poor defense.

So Riley’s tactic was to have Wade stick to him on defense—Wade’s speed made this easy. On offense, whoever He Xinghui was guarding would attack, exploiting that weak spot.

But this time, Riley’s plan was about to backfire. Having just gained 100 rage points from Antoine Walker, He Xinghui upgraded his one-on-one defense to a B rating.

It still wasn’t outstanding, but at least he wouldn’t be completely dominated.

The Heat attacked, and He Xinghui slyly chose to guard Jason Williams—he had no intention of matching up with Wade.

Letting his teammates handle the tough opponent meant he wouldn’t be blamed if they lost. Clever.

Williams, nicknamed “White Chocolate,” wasn’t a player who liked to force the offense. He preferred flashy passes, often featured in highlight reels—or turnovers.

This time, since the coach had ordered him to target the rookie, Williams didn’t mind attacking for a few possessions.

Bullying rookies was like hazing freshmen—something everyone enjoyed.

Williams opted for a drive, but soon realized He Xinghui’s speed matched his stride perfectly.

Damn.

Williams couldn’t understand it. He’d just seen Payton beat this rookie off the dribble, proof of a slow reaction time.

But now, he couldn’t get past him. Was he really slower than Payton, the veteran?

Williams couldn’t accept it and tried again to force a drive, only for He Xinghui to strip the ball away.

He Xinghui tried to push for a fast break, but Wade quickly blocked his path.

Knowing his own limits, He Xinghui immediately tossed the ball to Mobley, avoiding the folly of challenging Wade’s defense.

Hmm, interesting.

Dunleavy was equally surprised. He’d just been about to pull He Xinghui from the game, but suddenly, He Xinghui’s defensive footwork had inexplicably sped up, and he’d even managed a steal.

Happiness had arrived too quickly—Dunleavy, feeling a bit proud, wasn’t sure he could handle it just yet.