Best Defense

Lin Mo grabbed the ball and sprinted solo toward the opposing half of the court.

Lu Zhiyi had already dashed back to defend his side.

The speed difference between dribbling and running without the ball was night and day.

As Lin Mo crossed the three-point line, Lu Zhiyi braced himself mentally.

A jump shot? Or a layup?

He positioned himself in the paint, setting up his defense early—either to draw an offensive foul or commit a defensive one.

He had to disrupt Lin Mo’s rhythm.

But in that split second, Lin Mo leaped from inside the key.

A dunk?!

At barely over 1.7 meters, you’re going for a dunk?!

Lin Mo soared, his vertical leap unmatched by anyone on the court.

Yet impossibly, he reached that height effortlessly.

Lu Zhiyi jumped too, hoping to at least partially block the attempt.

But as a non-forward and not particularly tall, his jump barely reached half of Lin Mo’s elevation.

Lin Mo slammed the ball over Lu Zhiyi’s head with brutal force.

Boom!

The ball hit the ground.

Both players landed.

Upon touching down, Lu Zhiyi realized something was off—Lin Mo had jumped first, yet they landed simultaneously.

That hang time… Is he even human?

Lin Mo raised his arms triumphantly.

With a grin, he said to Lu Zhiyi, "Sorry, but my stats are just superior to yours."

The crowd erupted instantly.

Even the boys from Class Three cheered.

Lin Mo stood around 1.78 meters now, still shy of 1.8 meters.

A dunk at that height was a rare spectacle in school games.

And a posterizing dunk over a defender? That was pure adrenaline for the spectators—even if the dunker was from the rival class.

That single play shattered Class Three’s morale.

Earlier, Ma Li and Su Mingzhao had been contained by Lu Zhiyi.

But with Lin Mo now in play, their entire team was overwhelmed.

The point gap didn’t close; it only widened.

Lu Zhiyi took a deep breath and rallied his teammates. "Don’t give up! It’s still the third quarter—we haven’t lost yet. If we quit now, why even play basketball? Might as well just compare stats."

Unfortunately, Lin Mo’s stats were dozens of times higher than Lu Zhiyi’s.

The game resumed.

A one-sided domination unfolded effortlessly.

Even though Lu Zhiyi refused to surrender, his teammates’ morale never recovered. Their coordination fell apart.

During the remaining garbage time, Lin Mo didn’t push hard—he mainly focused on intercepting Lu Zhiyi’s attacks.

Lu Zhiyi couldn’t break through Lin Mo’s defense, watching helplessly as the clock ran down and the deficit grew.

Beeeeep!

Game over.

Class Eight erupted in celebration. Ma Li and Su Mingzhao stood frozen, as if unable to process what had just happened.

Ma Li looked at Lin Mo, not quite tearful but breathing heavily.

"Thank god you were here, Lin Mo."

"Just doing my part for Class Eight."

As Lin Mo walked off the court, Jiang Yunlu handed him a bottle of Blue Scream.

"Thanks." Lin Mo twisted the cap open and took a swig.

The exertion hadn’t been enough to make him sweat, but he figured it’d look odd if he played a full game without a drop. So he’d faked some perspiration.

Jiang Yunlu hesitated before handing him a towel.

Too many people were around—wiping his sweat for him might send the wrong message.

But as she leaned closer, she noticed something odd: Lin Mo’s sweat had no smell.

Like odorless perspiration.

Ma Ruixiang clapped his hands nearby.

"Alright, Class Eight, let’s regroup for the tug-of-war."

The basketball awards ceremony was scheduled for the afternoon, so the crowd dispersed quickly.

Next up was the Grade 11 basketball finals, though few Grade 10 students stayed to watch—just as few Grade 11 students had bothered with their game earlier.

Grade divisions were practically walls most of the time.

The group headed for the field.

The Grade 12 tug-of-war had already ended, and they’d been dismissed back to class.

Chen Xiaoya emerged from the home base, smiling at Lin Mo and the others. "Congrats on the championship. Among all the classes I’ve taught, yours is the first to win basketball gold."

Fang Jun chuckled. "So you won’t call us the worst class you’ve ever had, right?"

"Of course not. You’re all quite outstanding."

Chen Xiaoya, glasses perched on her nose, was clearly in high spirits, joking freely.

The class gathered to select tug-of-war participants.

Chen Xiaoya eyed the basketball team. "You just finished a game. Sure you have the energy for this?"

Lin Mo raised his hand. "I’m good."

The other boys nodded along, though it was likely peer pressure—since Lin Mo said yes, they couldn’t back down.

Still, they all chugged Red Bull for backup.

Lin Mo, as the class’s sports rep, decided to let the basketball players rest.

Su Mingzhao bristled but held his tongue—Lin Mo had carried them to victory, after all.

Ma Li sighed in relief. "I’m exhausted, honestly. Just didn’t want to seem weak."

Lin Mo patted his shoulder. "Don’t overthink it. Let others have their moment."

The tug-of-war required ten boys and ten girls—twenty total.

Simple enough.

Lin Mo had his own selection criteria.

"Zhang Yuzhong, An Yuexin, Gao Yuanqiang, Hao Qiang..."

Gao Yuanqiang raised a hand. "I played basketball too, you know."

Lin Mo shot him a look. "You sat out two quarters."

"Fine, fine. You’re right."

For the girls, Lin Mo picked a few with ideal builds, then left the rest to volunteers.

Jiang Yunlu stepped forward immediately.

"I’m strong. Badminton players have solid arm strength."

She rolled up her sleeve slightly, flexing to reveal a defined bicep—a tiny "mouse" of muscle.

No denying she had the chops.

Lin Mo nodded.

"Alright, you’re in."

Once the roster was set, Lin Mo led the team to the tug-of-war area.

Chen Xiaoya went to draw lots for the first-round matchups.

"Magnesium powder here—rub some on your hands to avoid slipping," a PE teacher explained nearby.

Lin Mo arranged everyone’s positions, alternating boys and girls on either side of the rope.

He took the anchor spot at the very end.

As the strongest, he was the team’s immovable pillar.

Jiang Daming, one of the referees, went over the rules.

"The last person can’t wrap the rope around their body..."

In tug-of-war, tying the rope to yourself was a gamble—win, and it’s fine; lose, and you’d get yanked into the air. Dangerous stuff.

Every oddly specific rule existed because someone, somewhere, had learned the hard way.