Chapter 3: A Display of Power

"According to protocol, that's how it should be. The club is already committed to paying twelve million dollars—there's no way they'll break the contract and pay an astronomical penalty, at least not until we've figured out exactly what's going on here," the Rockets' general manager said helplessly.

"Coach Adelman, the new player has arrived," just then, someone knocked on Rick Adelman's office door. An employee pushed it open to remind him.

"Fine, fine, fine—your 'Chinese basketball prodigy' is here. I'll go see just how amazing he really is. If he doesn't meet my expectations, I'll have him glued to the bench until the day I stop coaching. And I'll file a formal complaint with international basketball associations, exposing your shady dealings. You damned executives, just wait to become the laughing stock of the century!" Rick Adelman hung up the phone in a fit of anger.

He had always hated backroom deals more than anything.

"Go, call Yao, McGrady, and all the other players to the training facility. We need to test the basketball skills of our so-called Chinese prodigy," Adelman said sharply to a subordinate after hanging up.

"Yes, Coach Adelman." Seeing the coach's dark expression, the staff member hurried off to gather the Rockets players, silently praying for the newcomer from China. Everyone knew Coach Adelman had a fiery temper and set high standards; any player who earned his dislike was in for a rough time.

...

Carrying a travel bag, Su Feng followed a Rockets staff member into the Toyota Center, the home court of the Houston Rockets. It was his first time setting foot in the arena he'd seen countless times on TV, the very place he'd dreamed of visiting just to watch the Rockets play. Now, everything filled Su Feng with a sense of wonder.

But this time, he wasn't here as a Rockets fan—he was stepping into the arena as the team's newest rookie.

Fate truly works in mysterious ways.

As Su Feng marveled at his circumstances, the staff led him onto a vast basketball court.

The moment he entered, excitement nearly made him leap for joy. On one side of the court stood the familiar figures of the Rockets, clad in the team's jerseys.

McGrady, Luis Scola, Aaron Brooks, Von Wafer.

Su Feng's eyes swept over each face—names he could recite by heart, players he knew intimately from years of watching them.

Yao Ming was here too?!

In the end, Su Feng's gaze settled on a towering figure in a wheelchair, his face gentle and smiling. Su Feng's heart nearly burst from his chest in excitement.

He hadn't expected his idol, the injured Yao Ming, to come out and greet him, injury be damned.

"Welcome to the Rockets." One by one, the Rockets players stepped up to shake his hand and offer greetings. Yao and McGrady were especially warm and friendly, while the others wore cold, even resistant expressions.

"Be careful, Coach Rick Adelman has his eye on you," Yao whispered in Su Feng's ear as they shook hands.

Su Feng's heart skipped a beat.

Of course he knew who Rick Adelman was—the head coach of the Rockets. He hadn't expected trouble on his very first day.

"Alright, introductions are over," Coach Adelman suddenly cut in, interrupting Su Feng's meeting with the team. The translator quickly relayed his words in Mandarin. "Kid, I don't care who you are or where you come from. Even if you were Alexander's illegitimate son in China, unless you earn my approval, I swear, as long as I'm the Rockets head coach, you'll be warming the bench. And I'll make sure you become the headline laughingstock of the century. Do you understand?"

Su Feng looked embarrassed.

He recognized the name Alexander—the Rockets' owner. It seemed Yao's warning was on point; the coach clearly had it in for him. But Su Feng could understand—if he were in Adelman's shoes, he'd probably be even more upset.

After all, nothing like this had ever happened in NBA history: a team using the first overall draft pick to select an obscure high schooler from across the ocean. Not even the wildest novels would dare write such a thing!

"Kid, if you want my approval, it's simple. Play a game against one of my players. If you can beat him, I'll recognize you as the first pick," Adelman said, holding a basketball in both hands and shoving it into Su Feng's chest—a gesture loaded with challenge.

"Alright!" Su Feng didn't get angry. He knew this was just the American way—everything is settled on the court, and you earn respect through skill alone. As his hands touched the basketball, it felt as if his body was awakening from a long slumber, every cell in him bursting with anticipation.

It was time to test the results of all those hours spent training in the game's simulation space!

"Good, you've got some spirit. Let's see if you can keep it up in a minute," Adelman snorted, then called out loudly, "Shane Battier, step forward. Go play with our Chinese basketball prodigy."

"Yes, Coach." A two-meter-tall white player answered, stepping up to Su Feng with a good-natured smile. Like a wall, his presence was overwhelming.

"This should be good," someone whispered.

"Coach really has it in for this lucky punk. Putting Shane Battier on him—I'll bet every shot gets blocked. He'll be traumatized for life."

"I'll put two grand on the rookie not even touching the rim," another player chimed in, the Rockets bench clearly enjoying the spectacle. Only Yao Ming, sitting in his wheelchair, frowned, his expression grave.

Shane Battier, nicknamed "Batman," was a defensive master.

Gazing up at the mountain-like figure before him, Su Feng recalled Battier's name and reputation. At six-foot-seven, Shane Battier was renowned as a top-tier defender, with both the height and the skills to make any opponent sweat. The coach had clearly chosen him to teach Su Feng a lesson.

"Kid, if you can score just once against Shane Battier's defense, I'll give you my approval. If not, you and your backers can go to hell together!" Adelman said gruffly from the sidelines.

"It's up to you now," Su Feng muttered to himself. "Let's see if Iverson's killer crossover is more effective than Battier's defense!"

He took a deep breath and began dribbling, the muscle memory from countless hours in the training arena kicking in automatically.

The game began!