Chapter 49 Gods and Demons

On the 15th, the day of the semifinals, a cold morning rain began to fall in San Jose, adding a touch of chill to the city.

However, this did not stop Gan Guoyang from waking up early and heading out for a run with a basketball in hand.

Ever since he embarked on the path of basketball, Gan Guoyang rarely went anywhere without a ball.

Previously, he used to dribble while delivering food, and now he even dribbled while jogging during his morning runs to hone his ball feel.

Gan Guoyang knew he had started playing basketball relatively late. Many black players began handling the ball before they were much taller than it, making the ball obey them like a leashed dog.

Since he had started late, he simply had to work twice as hard, using rigorous training to make up for his deficit in ball feel and to make his dribbling more flexible and fluid.

Although destined to become an interior player, Gan Guoyang understood that the modern trend of basketball was the blurring of positions. To become a truly great player, no skill could be neglected.

The rain-soaked streets of San Jose were gloomy, cold, and slippery, with small puddles forming everywhere. As vehicles sped by, dirty rainwater splashed to both sides—hardly an ideal environment for dribbling.

Yet, Gan Guoyang insisted on dribbling in this atrocious weather, dodging puddle after puddle, leaping over flight after flight of steps, the ball and his body firmly glued together without separating for even a second. (Fictional plot element; dangerous and not recommended for anyone to imitate.)

The rain soaked his athletic jacket, the ball was covered in water, his fingers were ice-cold, and mud and grit stuck between his knuckles. The water splashed up by the ball soiled his trouser legs and shoes, but he didn't care at all, simply lowering his head and pushing forward.

Occasionally encountering pedestrians on the street, he would drop his body low and shake past them with a sudden crossover, startling them into thinking they had encountered someone with mental issues.

Gan Guoyang started from the Sheraton, headed east all the way to San Jose State University, then turned northwest, jogging three kilometers in one breath until the rain gradually grew heavier.

He was forced to seek shelter in a nearby temple. This area was an Asian enclave in San Jose, particularly Japanese-descendant, so finding a temple here was not surprising.

The young novice monk in the temple looked somewhat astonished when he saw a gigantic figure standing under the eaves, and after clarifying the situation, brought him a cup of hot water.

Gan Guoyang expressed his gratitude and then asked if there was a restroom, as he wanted to use the clean water to wash his hands and the basketball.

When he came out, he happened to run into the temple's abbot—an old monk in his seventies. The abbot looked at Gan Guoyang with utter astonishment and insisted on pulling him aside to read his physiognomy.

With no other choice, Gan Guoyang put down the ball and sat on a straw cushion in the main hall to let the old monk examine his face and bone structure. The old monk remained completely silent from start to finish, staring for a long time before finally telling Gan Guoyang he could leave.

Gan Guoyang found it quite strange. You were the one who wanted to read my fortune, yet you didn't even tell me the outcome. Fortunately, the rain had stopped by then, and Gan Guoyang didn't dwell on it. He muttered a word of thanks and left.

Seeing Gan Guoyang depart, the young novice asked the abbot what he had seen and why he hadn't spoken.

The abbot shook his head and said, "This man possesses the visage of gods and ghosts; he is no mortal. Heaven's secrets must not be leaked, or it will invite calamity."

With that, the old abbot pulled out a towel to wipe his head. In the drizzly, overcast February, a fine layer of sweat had already broken out on his bald scalp.

***

The semifinals were scheduled for the afternoon, with the intermittent drizzle stopping and starting. The air inside the San Jose Civic Auditorium was filled with the earthy, fishy scent of rain and mud.

Although it was the Northern California Championship—logically a higher tier than local league games—not many spectators were in attendance, and the rainy weather reduced the turnout even further.

This was one of the reasons why the CIF had historically never held a state-wide championship. Detached from local fan support and lacking the intensity of cross-town rivalries, such cross-regional tournaments possessed very limited appeal to local fans, no matter how high the level of play.

Gan Guoyang's influence was primarily concentrated around San Francisco and Oakland. Once in San Jose, his fame was much more limited.

The basketball fans here paid far more attention to the San Jose State University Spartans.

San Jose was still part of the Bay Area; once outside the Bay Area, heading toward Sacramento or Los Angeles, even fewer people knew who he was.

However, fame was earned bit by bit. Heroes and legends usually started from humble beginnings, fighting campaigns far and wide over many years before establishing their reputations and accomplishing great things.

Before the tip-off, Gan Guoyang looked at the short, #7 player standing not far away with his hands on his hips—that was Kevin Johnson.

The person who had claimed he would score 40 points over Gan Guoyang.

Gan Guoyang had watched his games; he was indeed different from other players—or rather, he didn't quite look like a 1980s point guard. He already bore the hallmarks of future superstar point guards:

Blazing fast speed, repetitive dribble variations, offense-first and passing-second mindset, boasting exaggerated explosive power and leaping ability, capable of rampaging through the paint like a mini armored tank.

In Northern California, Kevin Johnson was arguably the fastest point guard with the strongest penetration ability, bar none. No one could stop him.

That was why he had the confidence to boast that he could score forty points over Gan Guoyang.

Yet when they stood on the court, with Kevin Johnson near the center circle looking at Gan Guoyang, Gan Guoyang looked right back at him.

Gan Guoyang's gaze was calm and icy, resembling the winter rain, sending a chill straight to Kevin Johnson's core.

Of course he had heard all sorts of rumors about this Chinese superstar center: his dominance across the San Francisco League, 41 rebounds, a single-game high of 15 blocks, superior strength, cunning defense, and a mental maturity far exceeding that of an ordinary high schooler.

None of this intimidated Kevin Johnson; instead, it ignited his combative spirit. Everyone said Gan Guoyang was a great defender, but Johnson didn't believe it. He was determined to rack up a high score right over this guy's head.

Yet standing on the court for real, Kevin Johnson finally sensed danger—a visceral warning originating from the non-rational regions of his cerebral cortex.

Top-tier athletes all possessed this intuition, a mysterious sixth sense buried deep within human genes used to evade beasts and track prey back in the primitive era of blood-drinking and raw meat.

Modern human life was mostly peaceful and tranquil, causing this type of intuition to remain hidden. Top-tier athletes, however, constantly operating at high-speed confrontations, often had only 0.1 seconds to make judgments, leaving no time for conscious thought.

They had to rely on muscle memory and instinct. Muscle memory came from repetitive training, while intuition came from innate talent and accumulated experience.

Johnson was an exceptional athletic prospect. Seeing Gan Guoyang's tense physique and profound gaze at the center circle, he knew instantly that he had been targeted in today's matchup.

His intuition told him he had better steer clear.

Yet an athlete's dignity and desire to win compelled Kevin Johnson to face the challenge head-on.

The game started quickly. Gan Guoyang won the opening tip, and his first points came in a flash.

Operating from the high post, he ran a pick-and-roll with Chen Xing, rolled to the basket, caught the pass, and finished strongly with a layup for an easy two points.

After enduring two days of diarrhea and receiving two IV drips of glucose, Chen Xing had finally recovered and made it back for the semifinals.

However, guarding Kevin Johnson was not Chen Xing, but Water Clock's shooting guard, Xu Xun.

In terms of talent, speed, and explosive power, Xu Xun was no match for Kevin Johnson.

Even with his utmost effort, Kevin Johnson could shake him in one-on-one situations effortlessly.

With a sudden burst of acceleration and a quick crossover, Xu Xun was left eating Kevin Johnson's dust.

Yet Xu Xun had one defining trait: relentless tenacity. No matter how much Kevin Johnson battered him, he would maintain his defensive intensity to the bitter end, clinging like a leech.

More importantly, Xu Xun had Gan Guoyang backing him up. The moment Xu Xun was beaten, Gan Guoyang would rotate to provide help defense.

Even if Kevin Johnson passed the ball, Gan Guoyang would still prioritize the help defense without hesitation, even if it meant abandoning his own assignment.

Both teams played at a breakneck pace from the opening tip. The Sacramento Dragons were renowned for their frenetic offense, with Kevin Johnson serving as the head of the dragon.

Handling the ball on the court, he elevated the game's tempo by more than a notch. Teams lacking speed or physical conditioning would simply be run into the ground by the Dragons.

However, the Water Clock team proved far more resilient than the Dragons anticipated. Ever since August, for a full half-year, Bellman had put the players through hellish training.

Even Gan Guohui had managed to slim down and find a girlfriend—the sheer intensity of the training could be easily imagined, leaving the players with tremendous stamina.

Xu Xun stuck to Kevin Johnson like a plaster. Five minutes into the first half, Kevin Johnson had dished out 3 assists, yet he had not scored a single point himself.

Not only was he scoreless, but he had also swallowed two blocks—whenever he penetrated into the paint, Gan Guoyang's help-side swats arrived right on time.

Xu Xun's harassment prevented Kevin Johnson from ever truly getting up to full speed. Thus, rather than saying Gan Guoyang protected Xu Xun, it was more accurate to say Xu Xun acted as a shock absorber for Gan Guoyang.

This was something the two of them had discussed prior to the match. For Gan Guoyang, utilizing teammates to curb opponents was critically important in the team sport of basketball.

Nonetheless, while Kevin Johnson was contained, the Dragons' other players stepped up accordingly. When his own offense was hindered, Johnson chose to empower his teammates instead.

Defensively, the Dragons also heavily doubled-teamed Gan Guoyang. Water Clock's scoring responsibilities fell upon Franklin, who felt entirely in his element in this fast-paced style of play.

At halftime, the scoreboard read 37:40, with Water Clock leading the Dragons by 3 points. Gan Guoyang finished the first half with 7 points, 11 rebounds, and 4 blocks.

Kevin Johnson posted 6 points, 7 assists, and 2 steals. Both players exhibited all-around impact, though their personal scoring output remained modest.

As the intermission ended and they returned to the court, Gan Guoyang walked up to Kevin Johnson and asked, "I heard you were going to drop 40 points on my head?"

Kevin Johnson's eyes flickered for a moment, but he stubbornly replied, "Even if we don't get 40, we're taking the win."

Gan Guoyang smiled and said, "I have 7 points right now, and you have 6. You have 6 points because you can't possibly score 40 on me. And I have 7 points because in the first half, I only wanted 7 points."

"You're just comforting yourself."

"No, I'm giving you a preview."