Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Bird That Never Ceases to Fly

There is no bird that flies without pause through time, and Lin Fei is not someone who can run forever. By the end of the third quarter, Lin Fei's speed had noticeably slowed, yet his partner, Keynes, remained as relentless as ever. His defense showed no sign of slackening, refusing to let opponents score easily.

Nelson substituted Lin Fei, bringing Curry back onto the court. With Curry's return, the Warriors' offense became much more organized. However, since every player was eager to control the ball, the scene resembled scattered petals, with Curry at the center like the heart of a flower.

A question lingered: Would Lin Fei return to the game? He had already played nearly twenty-five minutes and scored twenty-two points—an astonishingly efficient performance. If one had to describe him, he was the quintessential bench mobster.

The Warriors' players all wanted to make a strong start, fighting with extra vigor in this match. Even when leading the Bucks by ten points, they rotated their strongest players onto the court, just in case.

Though Lin Fei had left the game, he was clearly much more relaxed now. With the team ahead, Lin Fei actually hoped he wouldn't need to go back in. That was his nature—though he always yearned to play, he yearned even more for a victory that would not require his presence.

Jennings continued to score furiously after Lin Fei left, but the Warriors' collective offensive power was no exaggeration. Halfway through the fourth quarter, both teams had already scored over twenty points—truly unbelievable.

With three minutes remaining, the Warriors still led by ten. Nelson surveyed the situation and made an astonishing decision: he pulled out the starters and sent in the substitutes, with Lin Fei leading four bench players. The Bucks’ coach was delighted—the opportunity had arrived.

Indeed, a ten-point lead with three minutes left was far from safe, certainly not garbage time. Nelson boldly deployed the bench in this critical moment; if they lost, the Warriors' owner would be furious—Nelson might be fired on the spot. But Nelson seemed calm and confident.

The situation played out as expected. Facing the Warriors' bench, the Bucks struck quickly: Jennings assisted Bogut for an easy layup, then on the Warriors’ offensive end, Lin Fei’s shot missed. Jennings seized the moment for a fast break, assisting Reed to sink a three-pointer. In an instant, the ten-point lead shrank to five. The Warriors’ players all stood up, watching Nelson's reaction. Yet Nelson remained surprisingly composed, refusing to call a timeout and letting his bench play on. Unbeknownst to others, Nelson was telling Lin Fei: “You may be a substitute, but in my mind, your position surpasses even the starters. I trust your ability in crucial moments.”

Was this also a signal? Was Nelson planning to build a super bench squad in future games, giving his team twelve offensive threats and balanced firepower?

Lin Fei’s hand trembled slightly. Only he knew the weight of the responsibility he now carried.

Taking a deep breath, Lin Fei gently closed his eyes, returning to his unique state—breath, heartbeat, rhythm, the distance to the rim, the positions of his teammates, the lines on the court. The world dimmed, becoming a realm that belonged solely to Lin Fei.

Lin Fei made a swift drive, bringing the ball to the front court. Facing Jennings, he sidestepped and shot. Jennings was stunned; this kid just shot like that—was he misreading the clock? It wasn’t time for a game-winning shot, so why take this risk? Yet the ball followed its trajectory, flawlessly entering the basket.

That shot steadied the team, planted their feet firmly.

The Bucks needed reliable plays now. Jennings challenged Lin Fei, driving to the paint and scoring while drawing a foul from Lin Fei—too close for comfort. This earned curses from many; Lin Fei’s defense seemed nonexistent, as if a wooden stake would have done better. Jennings calmly sank the extra free throw.

Lin Fei felt regret—why had he committed that foul? But Lin Fei was always Lin Fei; he knew how to adjust, knew what he had to do. Now, he needed to score—again and again. That was the best way to make up for his mistake.

Lin Fei pushed the ball upcourt swiftly. The Bucks, now wary, recognized Lin Fei’s unrivaled one-on-one prowess but his limited playmaking. In this critical moment, he was bound to attack himself. Reed and Jennings double-teamed him, giving him superstar treatment. Yet, unbelievably, Lin Fei rose for a shot despite the two defenders. Four hands blocked his way, but Lin Fei leveraged his extraordinary hang time to pull off a surprising move—he intentionally brought his hands into contact, and Jennings tried to pull back but was just a fraction too late. Lin Fei’s hands were already hit. Both teams’ players jumped to their feet—three free throws, three free throws! His teammates excitedly slapped Lin Fei’s back.

Lin Fei calmly sank all three shots, widening the gap once more.

Coach Nelson was even more excited. Not only did he see his team on the verge of victory, he saw Lin Fei’s growth, the effectiveness of his tactics, and the bright future of his team.

And so it went: the Bucks scored, but the Warriors always responded, either through Lin Fei’s points or by capitalizing on the pressure his presence created. Unsurprisingly, the Warriors won the game.

Excitement—indescribable excitement. Lin Fei managed to score thirty points in the first game of the new season, an unimaginable feat in less than thirty minutes on the court. This player’s astonishing scoring ability, coupled with such high efficiency, and the team’s relentless offense, created a terrifying force that would trouble every team but the Warriors themselves. And the team was so young—given time, their future was boundless! They could easily supplant the Thunder as the league’s rising stars.

Lin Fei’s performance was already outstanding. Would he remain a bench player, continuing his wild run as the bench mobster, or would he become a starter for the team?