Basketball System: Rebound of the Underdog-Chapter 511: Shizi Dogs vs. Juren Champions (14)

The quarter continued, and it felt more like a battlefield than a basketball court.

Sweat poured from every player, their chests heaving with exhaustion, but the intensity in their eyes remained unbroken.

The score gap sat at eight points now, favoring the Shizi Dogs. The Champions looked like they were on the verge of collapse. And at the center of it all was Jian, standing still, frozen in time, while the world moved around him.

Chaoxing glanced at Jian, his face lined with concern. "Jian, we need you!" he shouted, but his voice felt distant, drowned out by the roaring crowd.

On the sidelines, Jian's parents watched with a mix of worry and disbelief. His mother's hands were clasped together, knuckles white from the tension. "He's giving it his all," she murmured. "He's actually trying."

Up in the VIP box, Zheng leaned forward, gripping the edge of his seat. For the first time in years, he felt a strange pang of emotion, a lump forming in his throat.

Jian was the golden boy who could do no wrong. He'd never seen him like this before—lost, struggling, on the verge of breaking. It hurt in a way he hadn't expected.

He didn't even feel like this when they lost to the Champions a few days ago!

And across the court, standing like a lone sentinel, was Kai Guo.

At that time, he lived up to his name—an enigma.

A force of nature that nobody could figure out.

The crowd, the commentators, the players—they were all captivated by him, but nobody understood him. They couldn't. He was a mystery, never to be deciphered, only to be observed.

"He's unreal," Gina's voice came through, breathless with excitement. "Kai has taken control of this game like I've never seen before. It's like he's unlocked something new entirely. The Champions can't keep up!"

David's response was filled with awe. "He's beyond good, Gina. He's rewriting the script here. It feels like the climax of a movie, where the underdog team usually doesn't win. But this time… this time, they actually do?"

Jian took a deep breath, forcing himself to move and shake off the paralysis gripping his body.

It wasn't over yet.

He could still do this.

He had experience, more than Kai.

He called for the ball, and his teammates responded, fighting off the Shizi Dogs' defense to get it to him. The crowd held its breath as Jian caught the pass, his eyes locking onto Kai's. There was no smirk on Kai's face now—no trace of arrogance. Just calm, focused intensity.

Jian squared up, dribbling hard as he made his move. He slashed to the right, his footwork precis. He felt the strain in his legs, the burning in his lungs, but he pushed through it.

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"I'm not done," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "I can still do this."

"I'm perfect."

He drove into the lane. He faked a step-back, causing Andy to jump, then spun around Chaoxing's screen, leaving him in the dust. For a brief moment, it was just him and the basket. He could see the path clearly, as if time had slowed down.

Zheng watched with wide eyes, his breath catching in his throat. "This is it," he whispered.

Max narrowed his eyes.

"It's not over yet," he said.

Chunlei turned to him with raised eyebrows. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"There's three minutes left in the clock," Max said. "If he manages to shoot this, then that would mean that the Champions still have a fighting chance."

"And if they don't?" Chunlei asked.

"Then, I fear that Jillin would be a very noisy town the moment we come back."

Chunlei groaned. "I'm so jealous," he muttered.

Jian's mother clutched her husband's arm, not knowing what to feel. "He can do it," she said, her voice trembling. "He's working hard. It needs to go in."

But as Jian soared toward the basket, ready to deliver the shot that would bring his team back into the game, a shadow appeared in his vision. It was Kai, moving with a speed that seemed impossible this late in the match.

"No way," Johhny gasped from his seat, his face twisted in shock. "How is he this fast? It's the fourth quarter—he should be exhausted!"

"He's not human," Kimmy muttered.

Kai leaped, his body rising like a bullet. He met Jian in mid-air.

Jian's heart pounded in his chest. He pushed harder, swinging his arm to release the ball, but Kai was there, hand outstretched. The ball collided with Kai's palm, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the silent arena.

Smack!

The sound echoed, sending shockwaves through everyone watching.

That block meant a lot.

It was the end of something, the shattering of an illusion that Jian had held onto for so long.

Gina's voice was a whisper, filled with disbelief. "He blocked it," she said, as if she couldn't believe her own words. "Kai blocked Jian's shot."

David exhaled slowly, the awe clear in his tone. "That's it," he said softly. "That was the play of the game. The moment that will be replayed for years. Kai Guo has done the impossible. He's defeated Jian on the biggest stage."

Jian landed hard, stumbling back, his eyes wide with shock. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He just stood there, staring at Kai, his hands shaking.

Kai landed gracefully, lowering his hand as he looked at Jian. There was no malice in his gaze. He didn't do it to brag.

He'd done what he needed to do, and he'd done it with an ease that made it all the more crushing.

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, but it felt distant, like white noise to Jian's ears.

Jian felt the sting of tears he refused to shed. He'd been beaten, and not just physically. He'd been beaten in every way that mattered. And as he looked into Kai's eyes, he realized something he'd never expected to feel—admiration.

For the first time, Jian understood what it felt like to meet someone truly unstoppable. As the final buzzer rang, signaling the end of the game, he knew he'd just witnessed the birth of a legend.

And with that, he smiled.