The clock showed only two minutes left, and the gap had stretched to sixteen points.
Zheng’s heart pounded, his body straining as he fought to close the distance. However, the more he pushed, the more it felt like the game was slipping from his grasp.
All around him, the atmosphere had dampened, filled with the quiet dread of impending loss. Online, fans had begun to voice their disappointment.
"Let’s read some of the comments, shall we?" David started off.
"It seems like a lot of Eagle fans who were unable to get the tickets are disappointed," Gina chimed before reading the first one.
"Guess it’s still not enough."
"I really thought Zheng would at least make it close."
"It’s hard work versus talent, but in the end, talent always wins."
"I want to say—see you next year—but there is no next year. Jian Niu experienced the entirety of his high school career without a single loss."
"What a monster."
Calvin let out a long sigh, folding his arms as he glanced at the others. "It’s impossible. None of us will ever be able to do it," he muttered. "And if it’s not Zheng—if even HE can’t do it—then it’s clear. It can’t be anybody."
Beside him, Fang sat forward, his gaze sharp but resigned. "Zheng clawed his way up from the bottom, sure. He’s probably the most hardworking player out there. However, no amount of hard work can fill that gap between him and someone like Jian. You’re right, Calvin. None of us could do it. In fact, none of us WOULD be able to do it."
Max nodded. However, he glanced at Kai, who was watching the game so intently that he couldn’t even hear their conversation.
"No one?" he muttered, still looking at Kai.
Kai finally felt Max’s gaze on him and turned to the player with raised eyebrows.
"What?" Kai asked.
Max subtly shook his head. "Nothing," he said before turning his gaze back to the game.
Then, he whispered something under his breath. "It’s too early for him."
On the court, Jian had just shot his 55th point of the night. The spectators couldn’t help but watch in awe.
Chaoxing, who was already breathless for playing in three quarters, shook his head in amusement.
"He’s broken the record again," Chaoxing said softly. "The man claims he’s not competitive, yet here he is, setting new records without breaking a sweat."
Jimmy, on the other hand, tried to push himself harder. He wanted to garner more points—especially since the tracking for the Elite Five was coming to an end.
However, that was impossible to do with Jian playing his best.
In the last thirty seconds, the scoreboard showed an eighteen-point gap, and the reality of the loss settled over Zheng like a cold slap.
His lungs burned, his legs ached, and every part of him wanted to stop, but something deeper kept pushing him forward—even if everyone watching knew the outcome.
He took a deep breath, his focus narrowing as he set his gaze on the hoop. There was no time left for strategy or hesitation.
He raised the ball, preparing to take one last shot. Jian leaped, blocking the shot with a swift, decisive motion that left no room for hope.
Find exclusive stories on freewebnovel
For a brief moment, as Jian’s shadow loomed over him, Zheng felt his heart sink.
He had given everything, yet it wasn’t enough. The sadness hit him all at once, a dull ache that went beyond the loss of the game. It was the understanding that he had failed not just himself but also Jian—the one player he had wanted to meet as an equal.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the roaring crowd.
There was a sense of finality in the words. In that single apology, he acknowledged not just his own defeat but the unfulfilled promise of becoming the rival Jian deserved.
Read 𝓁at𝙚st chapters at ƒrēewebnovel.com Only.
Then, his mind flashed back to a conversation they had during last year’s final game—when the Juren Champions were declared to take the gold medal once again.
It was a quiet afternoon. The two of them were still wearing their respective jerseys, smelling of sweat.
He hadn’t expected Jian to call him to talk. But, out of nowhere, he did. They were on the balcony right outside the VIP area of the court.
Jian had leaned forward on the railings, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.
"I want to be better," Jian said quietly.
Zheng looked at him, baffled. "What?" he asked in disbelief.
"Be better? But…you’re already the best."
Jian let out a small, bitter laugh, eyes still far away. "I know," he muttered. There was a pause before he continued, his voice softer.
"So, how can I get better once I’ve already reached the top?"
Zheng was silent, his mind turning over the words. He’d never thought about it like that—about what it might feel like to have climbed so high there was nowhere else to go.
He’d always been driven by the next goal and the next level he could reach. But for Jian, it was different. Jian had no mountain left to climb.
"What’s more to my life now?" Jian asked, looking up to the sky. "What more do I have to live for?"
Zheng didn’t know what to say. There was an emptiness in Jian’s voice that even victory couldn’t fill. He realized that while he had admired Jian for his effortless skill, he’d never considered the weight that came with it. He reached out, giving Jian’s shoulder a reassuring pat.
"We’ll figure it out," he said softly. And in that moment, he made a silent promise—to push himself further, to become someone who could stand by Jian’s side and allow him to be better.
However, he failed to do so.
Now, on the court, in the semi-final stage, Jian looked at him with the same emptiness he did last year.
Jian said nothing, only nodding slightly before walking away as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game.
"I’m sorry," Zheng repeated, but he knew that his apology was good for nothing.