Chapter 4: The Goal

The game began, and "Batman" Shane Battier pressed forward like a mountain. It was a direct, forceful defense—nothing subtle about it. Shane Battier stood two meters and one centimeter tall; Su Feng was only one meter and seventy-eight. A height difference of twenty-two centimeters. On a basketball court, height isn’t everything, but a gap of twenty-two centimeters is a nightmare, especially when your opponent is as physically gifted and defensively renowned as Shane Battier. In front of him, Su Feng looked like a chick targeted by a bald eagle—no matter the angle, he was bound to be blocked.

"This is tragic. Our rookie is definitely going to be destroyed by Shane Battier."

"Shane Battier’s going too far, bullying a kid—he’s just a child!"

The Rockets players joked gleefully at the lopsided spectacle.

"Yao, I respect you, but your countryman here won’t even make one basket, let alone three. I’ll bet everyone a month’s lunch," one Rockets player whispered into Yao Ming’s ear.

Yao’s frown deepened.

At that moment, Su Feng moved. Ever since he’d lost the skills card, Allen Iverson’s "Butterfly Through the Flowers" footwork had been imprinted into his very being, becoming second nature. The orange basketball danced between his feet like a mischievous sprite.

In that instant, Su Feng’s aura shifted dramatically.

He leaned forward, signaling his intent to drive past his defender.

Trying to get past me? Shane Battier thought confidently. He spread his arms wide, already anticipating the direction of the move—if Su Feng tried to force it, he’d crash directly into Battier’s body. Battier was certain that the slender young man would be sent flying.

But just as Su Feng appeared poised to make his move, he retracted his forward momentum, switched the ball to his other hand, and shifted his stance, threatening to attack from another angle.

"I’m ready for that," Shane Battier smiled. This, too, was within his expectations. He slid his feet to block the new path.

Yet, in the blink of an eye, the basketball switched hands again. Su Feng’s footwork was like a waltz, or a butterfly weaving through a garden—graceful and elusive. He seized the split-second when Battier shifted, spinning lightly past him to the basket and gently flicking the ball up.

The basketball traced a perfect arc and fell through the hoop.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

The ball drummed against the floor. Every eye in the gym was fixed on the scene.

They waited...

"Shit?!"

"Allen Iverson?!"

"Butterfly Through the Flowers?!"

The Rockets players, who had been mocking a moment earlier, now wore looks of shock, exclaiming in unison.

They knew that footwork all too well.

It was the signature move of Allen Iverson, now playing for the Pistons. In the world of basketball, every superstar possesses an almost unanswerable weapon.

Take Shaquille O’Neal’s monstrous physique—when he got the ball, no one could stop him from scoring. Or Yao Ming, the Little Giant, whose towering height and surprisingly nimble touch made him a nightmare on the court.

Among the greats, Allen Iverson’s most formidable weapon was his unique "Butterfly Through the Flowers"—a move so deadly that, as the saying went, he could use it to shake you a hundred times in a row. He was called "the man who could cross up God." Some joked that even if God Himself came to the court, Iverson would leave Him grasping at air.

As rivals of the Pistons, the Rockets had studied Iverson’s move countless times but never found an answer.

Now, this mesmerizing footwork had appeared on this Chinese rookie, and for a moment, the Rockets could almost believe Iverson himself had possessed the young man.

"Shane Battier, what are you doing? Wake up!" Coach Rick’s furious shout echoed across the court.

Battier snapped from his daze, realizing he had just been effortlessly outmaneuvered. He rubbed his face hard, locking eyes with Su Feng. "You’ve got some skill. Again. This time, I won’t let you past me."

"Alright!" Su Feng grabbed the ball, adrenaline coursing through him. He was exhilarated—there was nothing quite like outwitting your opponent and commanding the court.

This was the allure of basketball, the magic of sport! No wonder millions worldwide were captivated, obsessed.

Round two began.

Now playing with confidence, Su Feng dribbled quickly, the orange ball weaving around his feet.

Just as before, he feinted, signaling the drive.

"Again?" Shane Battier braced himself, blocking Su Feng’s lane, but Su Feng switched hands, pivoted, and threatened a drive in the opposite direction.

"I saw that coming!" Battier, now fully alert, cut off the path. Yet as Su Feng began to turn, he suddenly stopped, darting through the gap as Battier overcommitted.

It was all a feint!

Battier froze.

Su Feng was at the rim, floating the ball up—swish, another basket.

The entire sequence was as fluid as a master pianist performing a concerto.

In that moment, Battier was reminded of the one man on the court he’d never been able to contain: Allen Iverson. Now, facing this rookie, he felt the same helplessness.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

The orange ball hit the floor. The gym was silent.

The Rockets’ defensive specialist, Batman Shane Battier, had been beaten twice in succession by the rookie, without a chance to respond.

"Shit, this is unreal. It’s like the kid has Allen Iverson living inside him," a Rockets player finally broke the silence.

"Exactly. If he weren’t Asian, I’d swear Iverson was playing in disguise," another agreed.

The whole team slowly came to their senses, incredulous at the scene before them.

"One more shot. Kid, if you make one more, you’ll have my respect," Coach Rick was the first to regain composure. Though his eyes fixed on Su Feng, his voice was calm.

Su Feng’s performance had left him with a different impression altogether.