Chapter 13

【Starting two updates tomorrow. Please give me recommendations and add to your favorites. I'm at least a top player in the competition, don't let me wither so miserably, okay?】

The one-on-one between Yang Mo and Mike Harris seemed particularly uninteresting because Mike Harris couldn't defend against Yang Mo's strong inside attacks, and Yang Mo couldn't stop Mike Harris's outside attacks. They scored back and forth, endlessly, with no ups and downs.

This exposed Yang Mo's weaknesses. Although Yang Mo had astonishing strength, his athletic ability, in terms of speed and jumping, was far inferior to that of black people, even though his athletic ability was already very good among Asians.

The two of them played for about half an hour, panting and sitting down on the sidelines. While drinking water, Harris analyzed Yang Mo's technique: "Your strengths are your strength, long arms, and solid inside offensive skills. But your weaknesses are also obvious: poor outside scoring ability, good ball-handling but too slow in breaking through. Your explosiveness is far weaker compared to black players. In the NBA, your speed won't get you past any defender."

"Actually, my outside scoring ability is quite outstanding. I serve as a three-point shooter on our school team. It's just that I suddenly lost my touch these past two days," Yang Mo explained.

"If you're a three-point shooter, I think your chances of being selected are higher, after all, your physical condition is much better than Novak's," Harris nodded, paused for half a second, and continued, "If your speed were a bit faster, your explosiveness a bit stronger, and your jumping ability a bit better, you could make it to the first round."

The latter part of Harris's words were almost meaningless, as these things were mostly innate, and no matter how hard you worked, you couldn't improve them in a few days.

But Yang Mo took it to heart. After all, he used to be weak, but now he was incredibly strong, right?

But... how could he enter that task?

Thinking of this, Yang Mo hurriedly pulled out the hexagram. It was still there, but he didn't know how to activate it. Last time, he was drunk. Did he need to be drunk again?

Yang Mo silently thought about it and decided to drink a few more glasses of alcohol when he got home.

If he could really improve his physical condition, the draft would be much more reliable, at least he wouldn't have to be so anxious.

After resting for a while, Wang Yuhuai announced the end of the training, and the players quickly left. They didn't want to stay in the training hall for a minute longer.

But Yang Mo stayed behind. He didn't want to be like those CBA players who just ate and waited to die. His stage was the NBA, so he had to work hard, harder, and even harder. Without an umbrella, one must run hard. His top priority now was to regain his touch.

Thud! Thud! Swish! Swish!

Yang Mo practiced alone in the empty gym, getting better and better. His control over the ball became more and more proficient. Unconsciously, the light in the gym dimmed, and by then, Yang Mo's touch had recovered to at least 90% of its peak.

Since he didn't know where the light switch was and was indeed quite tired, Yang Mo reluctantly left the gym. Back home, he bought a box of beer and started drinking bottle after bottle. After finishing, he felt dizzy and soon passed out on the bed.

He slept soundly all night, without a single dream, let alone any dream task.

The next morning, Yang Mo woke up with a heavy head from the hangover. He shook his head and muttered, "It seems it has nothing to do with drinking. Then what does it have to do with?"

Yang Mo thought about it. That night, besides getting drunk, something else happened. As soon as he remembered, he was startled... sex?

Could it be that the task could only be activated through sex?

Thinking of this, Yang Mo shivered, finding it too bizarre. But on second thought, it was indeed bizarre. A light ball fell from the sky and just happened to hit him. Was this... destiny?

Yang Mo mocked himself and planned to see if he should have another go with Zhou Yiyi. Although it was Zhou Yiyi's first time, he didn't enjoy it at all. He didn't even know how it happened, only waking up to find the bed covered in blood and Zhou Yiyi lying naked beside him.

If this hadn't happened to him, he would have thought it was a fairy tale.

While Yang Mo was thinking about Zhou Yiyi, his phone rang. He picked it up and saw it was Zhou Yiyi calling. He answered, and Zhou Yiyi asked him to come to the training. Yang Mo agreed, hung up, washed up, had breakfast, and called a taxi to the gym.

Outside the gym, Zhou Yiyi was already waiting. She walked up to Yang Mo with a smile, playfully rubbed against him, and said, "Guess what surprise I have for you?"

"I can't guess," Yang Mo shook his head, not knowing what she was up to.

"Play well in tomorrow's game. Winning or losing isn't important; the most important thing is to showcase yourself," Zhou Yiyi said mysteriously, leaving Yang Mo confused.

"What's going on?" Yang Mo asked, puzzled.

"I can't tell you now, just do your best. Score more, dunk more, in short, it will be good for you."

Zhou Yiyi deliberately kept him in suspense. Yang Mo didn't press for more details, just asked, "When will you tell me?"

"Tomorrow," Zhou Yiyi replied with a mischievous smile.

Yang Mo really didn't know what to do with her. At this moment, Zhou Yiyi's phone rang. She walked to the side to take the call and then came back, apologizing, "Sorry, I can't play with you today. My dad has assigned me a new project, and I'm swamped."

"It's okay, there will be other opportunities."

"Okay," Zhou Yiyi nodded and then said, "I'll treat you to a big meal tonight?"

"Sure."

"Then I'll go now." Zhou Yiyi waved goodbye, got into her car, and drove away.

Yang Mo walked into the training hall, changed into his jersey, and noticed the atmosphere was off. All the players avoided him like the plague, as if they were afraid of catching something.

Yang Mo was thoroughly confused. Although they weren't close, there was no need to keep such a distance, right?

Just as Yang Mo was puzzled, Mike Harris walked over, pulled him aside, and said, "They're planning to isolate you and keep you off the court."

"Isolate me?"

"You stole their spotlight yesterday and offended the 'King.' They won't let you off easy," Mike Harris whispered, "I plan to play in the CBA this year, so I won't talk to you anymore."

With that, he walked away, pretending not to know Yang Mo.

Seeing this, Yang Mo was completely stunned. He had never seen such brain-dead athletes. They were playing politics in sports. With this attitude of 'those who follow me will prosper, those who oppose me will perish,' how could they play well? If someone beats you on the court, you should beat them back, not play these isolation games. If this got out, it would be a laughingstock.