Chapter Fifty-Five: Unleashing Divine Power

"Last shot," Ding Wei announced as the third round began. He dribbled the basketball, advancing step by step toward the hoop, a trace of pride in his eyes.

Su Tong glanced at the nervous big guy under the basket and the watchful Shao Sheng.

Every street baller wants to stay on the court a little longer; neither the big guy nor Shao Sheng wanted to be benched.

With a smile, Ding Wei approached just beyond the three-point line, then stopped.

Su Tong was right in front of him.

Su Tong didn't press in, but Ding Wei stopped dribbling, holding the ball in both hands.

"Three-pointer. Go for the rebound," called the big guy and Shao Sheng as they shifted closer to the basket, anticipating Ding Wei's move.

Ding Wei shot a glance at Su Tong, smiled faintly, then looked past him toward Tang Yan.

Tang Yan was watching intently.

Retracting his gaze, feeling triumphant, Ding Wei leapt gracefully, his movements smooth and elegant.

But as soon as he jumped, he was startled—Su Tong was already in front of him, leaping as well.

"Now or never!"

Ding Wei hurried his shot. He hadn't jumped that high, never expecting Su Tong to close in so quickly.

Getting blocked is the greatest humiliation for any basketball player or enthusiast. You might lack skill, have a poor shot, or be short in stature, but being blocked is simply intolerable.

Bang!

Ding Wei released the ball in haste, but too late—Su Tong's large hand came down, swatting the ball away the moment it left his fingertips.

With considerable force, Su Tong sent the ball flying past midcourt. It bounced twice before rolling out of bounds.

"Nice!"

"Great block!"

The big guy and Shao Sheng shouted in excitement. Su Tong had always been just a role player, but this block was clean and powerful—a slap in Ding Wei's face.

For most, being blocked would elicit a wry smile, maybe a laugh to shrug it off. But Ding Wei's face turned ashen. Tang Yan was watching, and to him, Su Tong's block felt no different from a slap across the face.

"Your ball," Su Tong said to Ding Wei with a grin. This guy had always looked down on him—now he knew what it felt like.

Trying to show off in front of me? Shooting as if I don’t exist? Twice was enough, but a third attempt was too much.

Since Su Tong had sent the ball out, possession went to the other team.

They inbounded once more, Ding Wei with the ball again.

His face was grim, eyes locked on Su Tong.

So he's a bit taller, can jump a bit higher—so what? Watch me dribble circles around you.

Left hand, right hand, left hand, right hand, left hand, right—wait, where’d the ball go?

In the middle of showing off his dribbling, Ding Wei was suddenly intercepted. Su Tong’s big hand swept in, knocking the ball out of bounds.

"Your ball," Su Tong said, adjusting the legs of his jeans with a smile.

He hadn’t stolen the ball cleanly, but Ding Wei’s face darkened further.

"Don’t rush," Ding Wei’s teammate tried to comfort him. No one had realized Su Tong could actually play; they chalked up the first block to luck and the second to Ding Wei being off his game.

Once again, Ding Wei took the inbound, working to steady himself. He focused, bursting past the three-point line, determined to leave Su Tong behind.

But when he finally thought he'd shaken Su Tong, he realized—the ball was gone.

He turned to see Su Tong holding the ball at the three-point line, gently leaping up for a shot.

Who do you think you are? Ding Wei seethed. Su Tong had tried a shot before and missed. He’d miss this one too, Ding Wei thought, sneering.

The big guy and Shao Sheng were stunned. Su Tong’s steal was textbook—his movements unhurried, but his timing impeccable.

There was no time to think. They watched as Su Tong shot, scrambling to box out for the rebound.

Swish!

The ball went in.

It actually went in.

Ding Wei’s face turned an even deeper shade of green—utter humiliation. To have his ball stolen and then watch Su Tong calmly sink a shot in his face.

"My bad," Ding Wei raised a hand to his teammates, apologizing, but his eyes were smoldering with fury. To be embarrassed in front of the girl he liked—he hated Su Tong with a vengeance.

Let’s see who outlasts whom.

"You inbound, let’s go again," Su Tong laughed, turning to Shao Sheng.

Shao Sheng said nothing, inbounding from midcourt and passing to Su Tong.

"Wow, Su Tong can actually play!" Wang Yuanyuan exclaimed from the sidelines. Su Tong’s first shot had been casual, awkward, and missed. But his second attempt was beautiful—and it went in.

So cool.

Tang Yan couldn't help but grow excited. Especially seeing that this time Su Tong was catching the ball rather than inbounding—she felt a thrill and grew nervous.

Ding Wei was now locked in combat with Su Tong. As Su Tong was still a few steps from the three-point line, Ding Wei hurried to stick to him, intent on payback.

Su Tong dribbled, standing straight, but his ball-handling skills were now obvious.

"Hey, old six really can play," the big guy’s eyes shone.

Shao Sheng watched Su Tong without blinking.

Ding Wei lunged in, reaching to steal.

But Su Tong dribbled behind his back, shifting the ball to his other hand.

Ding Wei grasped at air.

He tried to recover, but his balance was off—too late.

Su Tong spun, leaving the newly balanced Ding Wei behind, dashed into the paint, and leapt.

Thud!

Swish!

A bank shot—nothing but net.

Ding Wei had just turned around in time to see it happen, thunderstruck.

Everyone, on and off the court, was stunned.

Su Tong wasn’t just a novice; he simply hadn’t shown his true skills until now.

"Haha, Su Tong, you’ve really got it! Never thought you could play like that," the big guy said, coming over to slap Su Tong’s shoulder.

Shao Sheng gave a thumbs-up and smiled.

"I underestimated him, rushed my shots," Ding Wei said nothing aloud, but his inner anger was palpable.

He’d been relaxed before, laughing and looking down on Su Tong—everyone had noticed. But after being humiliated three times in a row, not even he could force a smile.

"Too easy. One more and I’ll take all three this round," Su Tong said as Shao Sheng inbounded to him again. While dribbling, Su Tong held up a finger: "Last shot."

Ding Wei nearly coughed up blood, and the crowd couldn’t help but laugh. Su Tong was quoting Ding Wei’s earlier boast right back at him.

Dressed in a blue shirt, blue jeans, and sky-blue casual shoes, Su Tong’s outfit had once seemed out of place among all the players clad in jerseys and sneakers. But now, he looked striking—he stood out like a crane among chickens.

The basketball in his hands seemed to obey his every whim.

Ding Wei’s face was ashen, feeling as if a mountain were crashing down on him. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

But he had no choice but to defend—if he backed down now, he’d never be able to show his face on the university court again.

"Stay calm, don’t reach, don’t give him a chance to drive," Ding Wei resolved, blocking Su Tong from the paint, trying to force a pass.

"If the system won’t let me keep a low profile, then I’ll act high-profile but keep myself modest," Su Tong thought, bending his knees, finally getting serious.

Ding Wei spread his arms, watching Su Tong’s body, not just the ball this time.

After being humiliated repeatedly, he no longer dared to be careless.

Thump, thump, thump…

All eyes were on Su Tong as the ball struck the ground faster and faster—left, right, forward, back—his dribbling was as magical as a conjurer’s tricks, leaving everyone astonished.

Was this streetball? Such flashy technique!

But then, seeing Ding Wei fall to the ground, everyone was shocked.

Why did Ding Wei fall? Because Su Tong’s feints left his mind and body out of sync—he tripped over himself.

Swish!

Su Tong leapt lightly, and with no one defending, flicked his wrist gently.

The ball went in!

Wow—

On and off the court, everyone leapt to their feet, applauding.

Absolutely dazzling!