Chapter 12

【Everyone, give me some votes!】

Coach Wang Yuhuai had just started to think that Yang Mo might be a promising talent when Yang Mo caused trouble.

Yang Mo, for some reason, suddenly started yelling at a few national team players: "Keep laughing, keep laughing! I'll beat you all up one by one."

China has always emphasized the middle way, and basketball players are no exception. They rarely shout and vent their emotions on the court. It's even rarer for someone to actively provoke others, especially the national team stars.

These national team stars are top players in the country. They are used to bullying others, not being yelled at by newcomers. Among the five, Wang Zhizhi was relatively calm. After all, he had played in the NBA and had heard even more aggressive words, knowing that this was part of the basketball culture.

However, the others didn't understand. Zhu Fangyu and Wang Shipeng immediately surrounded Yang Mo and shouted back, "What did you say?"

"I said," Yang Mo's气势 didn't waver. He glared at the two and, with his chest puffed out, said, "I'll beat you all up one by one."

"What are you, a nobody? When I was playing, you were still in diapers," Wang Shipeng snorted, his fist immediately raised. If Mike Harris hadn't rushed over to separate them, a fight might have broken out.

Even though Yang Mo was separated, he didn't back down. Pointing at Wang Shipeng, he said, "Whether it's a fight or a game, I can handle you."

"Fine, kid, if you have the guts, come on. Let's see how I deal with you."

Wang Shipeng said this, turned around, and gave Chen Jianghua a few instructions before taking the ball himself.

As soon as he got the ball, Yang Mo moved in.

Puff!

Wang Shipeng tried to use his body to push Yang Mo away while dribbling. But how could Yang Mo be pushed away by his small frame? Could he push away Shaquille O'Neal? Of course not, so he couldn't push away Yang Mo either.

Bang!

Wang Shipeng stumbled back a step. Before he could steady himself, Yang Mo's long arm reached out and snatched the ball... Smack! The basketball, which Wang Shipeng had been controlling, was immediately knocked away. Yang Mo then rushed forward, picked up the ball, and charged into the key, leaping high to slam the ball into the basket... Boom!

A beautiful one-handed tomahawk dunk.

Although the jump wasn't particularly high, the force was immense. The impact was unparalleled, and no domestic player could perform such a high-quality dunk.

The young team players on the sidelines wanted to cheer, but seeing the national team stars' increasingly grim faces, they remained silent, though they were secretly cheering for Yang Mo.

Wang Yuhuai shook his head. Having been in the domestic basketball scene for years, he knew the personalities of these players who had grown up in sports schools. The better Yang Mo performed today, the less likely he would stand out in the future, and he might not even make it into the national team. Sometimes, the Chinese national basketball team isn't just about how well you play; it's also about factions. If these few were determined to disagree, no one could squeeze in.

"After dribbling so high, you still want to be a point guard? Just focus on your three-pointers," Yang Mo said, not forgetting to taunt Wang Shipeng after the dunk.

Hearing this, Wang Shipeng gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with anger, and his fists clenched so tightly that they could have bled.

At this moment, his hatred for Yang Mo had reached its peak. But he also knew that he probably couldn't dribble past this guy, given his quick feet, long arms, and abnormal strength.

So, for the next play, he didn't dribble and instead passed the ball to Chen Jianghua, letting him handle it.

Since Wang Shipeng didn't provoke him, Yang Mo didn't actively defend him. He returned to the half-court and positioned himself in the key, adopting the stance of an inside player. With Yang Mo inside and Mike Harris outside, their zone defense system allowed them to cover for the other three, who were not as skilled, using their excellent athleticism to prevent the defense from collapsing.

Because of Yang Mo's defensive presence, Wang Shipeng eventually chose to take a three-pointer from the outside... Bang!

The ball hit the rim, and Yang Mo leaped high, overpowering Wang Zhizhi to grab the rebound. He then passed the ball to the fast-breaking Harris, who dunked for a score. The entire sequence was smooth and exhilarating. No one would have thought that these two were opponents just a few days ago.

In the following game, Yang Mo's team took the lead. When the referee blew the whistle, the score was 41-35, with Yang Mo's team in the lead. If not for Wang Zhizhi using his height to score a few times against Yang Mo, the score would have been even more lopsided. Before Yang Mo entered the game, the score was 20-5, with the national team leading.

When the referee called a timeout, Wang Shipeng, who had been heavily guarded, directly quit the game. Zhu Fangyu and Sun Ye also showed signs of not wanting to continue. Seeing this, Wang Yuhuai had no choice but to end the game and resume individual training. After all, the national team players were the key players for the upcoming matches, and no matter how good Yang Mo was, he was just one person. He knew the priorities better than anyone.

When Wang Yuhuai announced the end of the game, Yang Mo wasn't angry. After all, the one lacking grace wasn't him, and he was the biggest winner so far.

He originally didn't fully understand his own abilities, but after competing against these national team players, he had a better grasp. As long as he could regain his offensive touch, making it to the second round of the NBA draft wasn't a problem. After all, Sun Yue was drafted by the Lakers with a second-round pick last year, and Yang Mo was much stronger than him. Whether in terms of current skills or potential, Yang Mo was only twenty this year.

While Yang Mo was contemplating his draft prospects, Mike Harris came over and asked, "Hey, man, you played really well. Why aren't you on the Chinese national team?"

"Who knows?" Yang Mo shrugged, speaking fluent English with a pure American accent.

"Have you been to the U.S.?" Mike Harris asked curiously. "Why do you have an East Coast accent? Were you in New York before?"

"No, I've never been to the U.S.," Yang Mo shook his head. He thought about it and realized his spoken English must have come from Shaquille O'Neal, who was from New Jersey and naturally had an East Coast accent.

"That's pretty strange," Mike Harris scratched his head in confusion. His brain was all muscle, so he couldn't understand such a deep concept. After a while, he changed the subject and asked, "You don't seem to have played in the CBA?"

"Right, I'm preparing to enter the NBA draft this year," Yang Mo told Mike Harris honestly and asked, "You've played in the NBA. Can you give me some advice?"

Hearing this, Mike Harris immediately frowned. He scratched his head and said, "I don't think your NBA journey will be smooth. Your strength is good, and your rebounding is decent. But your offensive skills don't seem to have any specialties, and you don't have a clear position. Also, your height is awkward."

Mike Harris frowned deeply, listing all of Yang Mo's weaknesses.

Yang Mo's confidence, which had just built up, was gone. He tried to argue, "I can hold my own on defense, grab rebounds, and shoot threes. My threes are very accurate. My dribbling isn't bad either; few can take the ball from me."

"But... you're still too short."

"Um..." When Mike Harris mentioned height, Yang Mo had nothing to say. For an ordinary person, his height was sufficient, but for a basketball player, especially one who had always played small forward or power forward, it was too short.

Seeing Yang Mo looking dejected, Mike Harris comforted him, "But don't worry. You have the Chinese market behind you, so some team will draft you. You're much better than that guy who was drafted last year."

Despite Mike Harris's comfort, Yang Mo's mood didn't improve much. He wanted to make it in the NBA based on his skills, not the so-called Chinese market. If it meant sitting on the bench, he'd rather not go.

"Come on, let's have a one-on-one," Yang Mo beckoned to Mike Harris.

Mike Harris, who was also itching to play, agreed. They found a hoop and started a one-on-one game, taking turns attacking and defending.