Chapter 391: Senior
“Just as we expected,”
Malone murmured as he watched the footage.
“The Rockets were still one step short.”
Looking at the Warriors players celebrating on the screen, the comment slipped out of his mouth without much thought.
This year’s Rockets had once again fallen to the Warriors.
What truly broke the fanbase, though, was that in this year’s playoffs, CP3 got injured yet again.
During a physical play in Game 3, CP3 went down without any contact, immediately straining the inner muscle of his right thigh. He was forced to withdraw from the rest of the series.
That left only a fully unleashed Harden and a Griffin who was already showing signs of decline.
Even with Harden carrying the team at full throttle, he still couldn’t stop the downward slide toward elimination.
As the “Harden–Paul duo” entered their second year together, the cracks between Harden and Paul gradually widened. Neither was willing to yield on ball dominance or internal hierarchy, and the outcome could only be separation.
In his previous life, Chen Yilun had genuinely regretted that ending. After all, with Harden and Paul—two all-time great playmakers—there had been a real chance to build something that could have gone down in history. Unfortunately, both of them were too proud back then, unwilling to compromise even a little.
But now, Chen Yilun was more than happy to see Houston implode from within—so much so that he almost wanted to pop a bottle of champagne to celebrate.
This year’s Rockets were a genuine X-factor in the West. If they suddenly caught fire and exploded at the wrong moment, things could have gotten very unpleasant.
After six hard-fought games, the Warriors finally overcame Harden’s one-man carry job and advanced to meet the Kings in the second round.
On the other side of the bracket, the Lakers cruised past the seventh-seeded Pelicans and were set to face the third-seeded Trail Blazers next.
“That LeBron really knows how to pick his opponents,”
Malone said, scratching his head with a hint of sarcasm.
Whether it was the Pelicans in the first round or the Trail Blazers in the second, the Lakers held a clear edge in raw strength. And that kind of “good fortune” was something LeBron had arranged for himself through his little circle.
Malone couldn’t hide his disdain for the result.
Still, it was nothing more than impotent anger. The die was already cast, and no matter how unhappy he was, he had no choice but to swallow it.
“There’s no point talking about it anymore,”
Chen Yilun said as he folded the newspaper in front of him.
“Same old rivals next round.”
He let out a long sigh.
“This year, my senior probably won’t let us through easily either.”
Just thinking about it made Chen Yilun feel a bit stifled.
“How did it end up like this? First the mentor, now the senior.”
“That’s what happens when your lineage is too big,”
Malone laughed. “Half the league comes from the Spurs tree. Of course the odds of running into each other go way up.”
Once the laughter faded, Malone’s expression turned serious.
“This time, your senior isn’t coming in peace. I’ve heard Golden State’s been holding their breath, determined to keep us outside the gates of a dynasty.”
“Kerr and I are basically old enemies now,”
Chen Yilun said.
Ever since arriving in Sacramento, he and Kerr had been locked in open and covert battles. At first, Kerr could still carry himself like an easygoing senior. But as Chen Yilun rose step by step, Kerr gradually lost the confidence to joke around with him anymore.
After all, when your junior has already climbed onto your shoulders, you don’t really have the face left to keep playing the role of the senior.
“That can’t be helped,”
Malone said, noticing the conflict in Chen Yilun’s eyes.
“Our championship windows just happened to overlap. When two top teams clash head-on, someone’s bound to come out worse for it.”
“Been a few days and you’re already talking like a philosopher now?”
Chen Yilun’s expression eased slightly.
“That’s true. We’ve already taken two championships off their heads. One more or one less—he’s not going to thank me for it anyway.”
As he spoke, Chen Yilun straightened his slightly wrinkled shirt.
“Prepare properly. Let’s give them the final blow.”
...
...
Inside the Sacramento training facility, the moment Rose stepped in, he heard the sharp, rhythmic thuds of basketballs slamming against the floor.
“I knew you kids would be here,”
Rose said with a smile, squinting as he looked at the players on the court.
“Coach Malone made it crystal clear—rest up and save your energy for the next round. You didn’t listen to a single word, did you?”
On the floor were Booker, Dejounte Murray, Alexander, and the rest of the Kings’ young perimeter group.
“Can’t sit still, Rose,”
Murray said, casually tossing the ball to a teammate before jogging over.
“Everyone’s too excited. Couldn’t stay home, so we figured we’d get together and play a bit.”
“You always have excuses,”
Rose chuckled, not pressing the issue. Truth be told, even he found it hard to stay calm at times like this.
“Rose, I heard something,”
Murray said, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby before lowering his voice.
“Coach Kerr from the Warriors and our Boss Chen… they’re senior and junior?”
Rose had been expecting some big piece of gossip. Hearing that, his face immediately said, That’s it?
“Did you just come down from the mountains?”
Rose rolled his eyes hard, irritation creeping into his tone.
“That’s not even a secret in the league. Even fans who know a little history are aware of it. You’re bringing this up now?”
“That’s not what I meant!”
Seeing Rose’s reaction, Murray hurried to explain.
“I just heard some rumors a couple days ago.”
“Apparently, Kerr’s already said it internally over in Golden State,”
Murray continued in a hushed voice.
“That this upcoming series is the final showdown between senior and junior.”
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