Basketball System: Hate Makes Me Unstoppable-Chapter 387: Embiid Brought to Tears.

"Stay locked in! We're still up! One stop, and we take this game!"

Jimmy Butler's voice cut through the tension as the Sixers huddled during the timeout.

Just moments ago, Ben Simmons had made an unthinkable decision—passing up a wide-open layup with the game on the line. The entire Wells Fargo Center had gasped in disbelief. The momentum, the energy, the confidence Philly had built all night? Gone in an instant.

The Sixers' bench looked shell-shocked, their morale plummeting like a rock. It felt like they were back in that disastrous practice session, shaken, defeated, unsure if they even belonged in this fight.

Joel Embiid rose to his feet beside Butler, his voice equally firm.

"One stop," he repeated. "We can't let everything we've worked for go to waste. Put everything on the line. DEFENSE!"

Their two leaders had spoken.

The rest of the team, visibly shaken from Simmons' blunder, started to shake off their doubts.

As the timeout ended, Embiid found Simmons and patted his shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up. We still got a chance."

Simmons, clearly moved by the gesture, nodded weakly.

Deep down, even he wasn't sure why he passed up that shot.

Was it muscle memory from being left open all season? Was it the fear of Han swatting his layup again, like he had earlier in the game? Or was it just the weight of the moment—his mind blanking under pressure, choosing the safer route, shifting responsibility elsewhere?

Whatever the reason, if they lost tonight, he knew exactly who'd be blamed.

And yet, in this moment, Embiid still had his back.

They took the court for Cleveland's final possession.

---

The inbounds play began.

For Cleveland, this wasn't just a test of their ability to execute under pressure. It was a test of whether Philly could hold their ground and keep this series alive.

The ball was supposed to go to Han.

But the Sixers, playing with desperation, denied him completely.

Malone's play had failed.

Jokić quickly adjusted, sprinting to the sideline to receive the inbound.

The second the ball touched his hands, Han broke free.

Jokić handed it off, setting a quick screen as Han took off toward the rim.

Seeing this, the Sixers collapsed into the paint.

This was it—the defining moment.

Han was trapped near the baseline.

He had no time for a second move, no space for an extra dribble.

He had to shoot.

Fading toward the corner, nearly out of bounds, he launched a desperate, off-balance jumper over Embiid's outstretched hand.

The arena held its breath.

The ball hit the rim.

Once.

Then again.

The buzzer sounded.

Everyone's eyes locked onto the bouncing ball.

For Philly, it was their last hope.

The second bounce was lower.

The trajectory was clear.

Some fans had already buried their faces in their hands.

And then—

Swish.

Han Sen had done it.

A miracle shot.

A dagger to the heart.

A game-winning, series-crushing buzzer-beater.

Cleveland's bench exploded onto the court, mobbing Han in celebration.

Meanwhile, Embiid stood frozen beneath the basket, staring blankly at the rim.

Simmons mirrored his look—wide-eyed, stunned, completely hollow.

They had fought like hell to keep this series alive.

And in one moment, it was gone.

---

Postgame handshakes were subdued.

Han, ever respectful, offered words of encouragement to his opponents. He even patted Embiid's shoulder, recognizing the fight Philly had put up.

But as he left the court, something unexpected happened.

Reporters captured footage of Embiid in the tunnel.

And for the first time, the Sixers' franchise center—The Process himself—broke down.

Tears streamed down his face as he walked, covering his eyes, openly sobbing.

The video went viral within minutes.

Joel Embiid had been beaten to the point of tears.

At the postgame press conference, Han was caught off guard when a reporter from FOX Sports asked about it.

"Han, we've just received footage of Joel Embiid crying as he walked off the court. What's your reaction to that?"

Han blinked.

He hadn't known.

The reporter quickly filled him in—Embiid had held it together on the court, but the second he stepped into the tunnel, he lost it.

"Joel was completely distraught," the reporter continued. "He was sobbing uncontrollably. What do you make of that?"

Han exhaled, choosing his words carefully.

"I wouldn't call it admirable, but I understand it."

That response caught everyone off guard.

"If someone doesn't care about winning, they wouldn't cry when they lose," Han added.

"The guys who don't care? They'll tell you, 'it's just basketball,' or 'life goes on.' But when someone truly cares? It hurts. That's why he reacted that way."

There was no mockery in Han's tone, no condescension.

Just recognition.

Joel Embiid had fought with everything he had.

And Han Sen had taken everything from him.

---

Game 4.

With their backs against the wall, the 76ers refused to roll over.

Instead of collapsing under the weight of a 3-0 deficit, they fought with the same desperation and intensity they had in Game 3.

The Cavaliers, on the other hand, weren't as sharp.

Han Sen's shooting was off, the outside shots weren't falling, and their usual offensive rhythm never quite clicked.

Philadelphia capitalized, grinding their way to a 114-104 victory—snagging their first win of the series.

It wasn't dominant. It wasn't even all that convincing.

But to the home crowd, it didn't matter.

After the blowout losses in Games 1 and 2, THIS was the team they had been waiting for. A team worthy of their faith in The Process.

---

Two nights later, the series shifted back to Cleveland.

Bad luck wasn't going to plague the Cavs forever.

Even though their three-point shooting remained shaky, Han and Jokić came out on fire, carrying the offense with relentless efficiency.

The Sixers fought just as hard as they had in Game 3 and 4.

But no amount of grit could erase their fatal flaw—Ben Simmons' lack of a jump shot.

His offensive limitations meant that every possession was a struggle.

And when you're up against a machine like Cleveland, struggling to score isn't an option.

That's what had made the Cavaliers so dangerous in past playoff runs. Even when they weren't the most talented team, they never had an obvious weak link.

That was the difference.

Philly had Simmons.

Cleveland had killers.

In the end, the Cavs closed out the series with a 121-113 win, taking the series 4-1 and advancing to the Eastern Conference Finals.

---

As Han made his way through the postgame handshake line, he was met with something unexpected.

Joel Embiid thanked him.

Han blinked, momentarily stunned.

Did I just beat this guy so bad he turned into a fan?!

It wasn't what he expected at all.

Embiid, still raw from the loss, looked him in the eye and spoke with sincerity.

"When we lost Game 3, I thought the world was ending," he admitted. "But what you said after the game? It gave me the strength to fight back."

Then, he said something that caught Han completely off guard.

"I don't care what anybody else says. To me, you're the greatest player of all time."

Han... was speechless.

This was the same guy who had declared "Han should fear me" before the series started.

Now he was standing here, calling Han the GOAT?!

After a beat, Han let out a small laugh.

He didn't know everything Philly had been through behind the scenes.

He hadn't been in their locker room before Game 3.

He hadn't seen the way Butler had nearly torn the team apart.

But in the end, the message was clear:

Han had broken Embiid.

Then he had rebuilt him.

"Keep working," Han finally said, patting Embiid's shoulder before walking off.

---

On the other side of the bracket, the Boston Celtics had already completed their 4-0 sweep of the Raptors.

For the second straight year, it would be Cavaliers vs. Celtics in the Eastern Conference Finals.

Meanwhile, in the West?

The final matchup had been one of the most anticipated of the playoffs.

It was heated. It was personal.

And in six grueling games, the Pelicans eliminated the Warriors 4-2.

Golden State had been crippled by the loss of DeMarcus Cousins—not just because of his interior presence, but because his contract had limited their ability to build depth.

With Andre Iguodala aging and Draymond Green unable to handle Anthony Davis one-on-one, the Warriors simply ran out of answers.

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Jrue Holiday's defense on Steph Curry had sealed the deal.

The superteam had fallen.

Western Conference Finals: Rockets vs. Pelicans.

For New Orleans, this was the furthest the franchise had ever gone—even counting their days as the Hornets.

For Houston, it was their first Conference Finals appearance since the Hakeem Olajuwon era.

Both teams were hungry.

And with Nike (Pelicans) and Adidas (Rockets) both invested in the Finals race, the tension was at an all-time high.

---

(Postgame discussion on TNT following Embiid's emotional reaction.)

Ernie Johnson leaned back, shaking his head as highlights rolled across the screen. "Cavs win the series, 4-1. Han Sen dominates. 76ers fight back in Game 4, but it's just not enough. And gentlemen, let's be honest... this series was over the moment Han hit that shot in Game 3."

Charles Barkley scoffed. "Over? It was over the moment Ben Simmons decided he was ALLERGIC TO SCORING."

Shaq immediately burst out laughing. "Oh man, Chuck, you starting early tonight."

Barkley wasn't backing down. "I mean, come on! You're down one, WIDE OPEN layup, season on the line—AND YOU PASS IT?! Are you KIDDING ME?! That boy looked at the rim and said, 'Nah, I'm good.'"

Shaq wiped his face, still laughing. "Man, that was bad. Philly fans still waking up in cold sweats over that one."

Kenny Smith nodded. "That's the moment it all fell apart. Because think about it—Philly actually played a great game that night. They had Cleveland on the ropes. But basketball is about moments. And Simmons' moment? That was his career in one play. Hesitation. Fear. Han Sen? He doesn't hesitate. And that's the difference."

Ernie turned to Shaq. "Shaq, you've been big on Embiid for years. What did you think of his reaction after that game? Walking off in tears, then thanking Han in the handshake line today?"

Shaq's usual grin faded. "Look, I respect Embiid for that. When you REALLY love the game, losing hurts. I don't make fun of dudes for crying if they care. And Embiid—he CARES. That's why he's gonna be great one day."

Barkley leaned forward, arms crossed. "I ain't got a problem with him crying either. My problem is—why the hell was he THANKING Han Sen like he just gave him a life lesson?"

Shaq shrugged. "Because he DID, Chuck. He TOOK Embiid's soul, then GAVE IT BACK TO HIM."

The studio exploded with laughter.

"That's what happened!" Shaq insisted, still chuckling. "He hit that shot, broke the man, and then in the handshake line, rebuilt him. 'Keep working, young fella.' That's some Sensei Master-level stuff."

Kenny nodded. "And let's be real—this wasn't just an Embiid thing. Philly as a team grew up in this series. That Game 4 win? That was the first real playoff battle they won together. But at the end of the day, Han and the Cavs were just too much."

Ernie glanced at the stat sheet in front of him. "Han Sen finished the series averaging 34 points, 10 assists, 9 rebounds. Jokić? 25 and 12. And let's talk about Jokić for a second—because that man played BIG BOY BALL in this series."

Shaq pointed at the screen. "I told y'all! That's the best big man in the league right now. Embiid is great, but Jokić? He made Philly's frontcourt look small."

Barkley nodded. "He did. And that's why Cleveland's so dangerous. You can't just double Han, 'cause Jokić will kill you inside. And you can't just guard Jokić one-on-one, 'cause Han will torch you outside. This is the best duo in the NBA, and it ain't close."

Ernie smirked. "And now... they get Boston. AGAIN. Celtics swept Toronto, Cavs take down Philly, and here we are—another rematch."

Kenny whistled. "Oh man. And let's not forget, Boston won the season series 2-1. This is NOT gonna be easy for Cleveland."

Barkley folded his arms. "Nope. But here's the thing—the Celtics might've won in the regular season, but this is the PLAYOFFS. And the Cavs? They got Han. And if we've learned one thing from this Sixers series, it's that he AIN'T here to play around."

Shaq grinned. "Nah. He's here to collect bodies."

(Segment fades into a commercial break.)

---

The night before Game 1 of the East Finals, Han hosted one of his usual bonfire gatherings at his estate.

Dante Cunningham, now out of the rotation, sat beside him and nudged him with a smirk.

"So, boss... who would you rather see in the Finals?"

Cunningham's role on the team had shrunk, but his loyalty hadn't wavered.

For him, being on Han's squad was enough.

Han didn't hesitate.

"The Pelicans."

Because if New Orleans made it?

That meant LeBron James—who had promised to bring Cleveland a dynasty—was going to fall short again.

But Han knew better than to assume anything.

As strong as the Pelicans had been, the Rockets were the real threat.

That team had pushed the Warriors to the brink in the timeline Han remembered.

And this year?

They were even more dangerous.

So rather than looking ahead, Han kept his focus on the present.

"Forget the Finals," he said. "We gotta worry about Boston first."

Because if there was one team that could ruin everything, it was this Celtics squad.

They had the personnel.

They had the schemes.

And in the regular season?

Boston had won the series 2-1.

This was the biggest obstacle standing in Cleveland's way.

The road to a dynasty went through Boston.