Chapter 406: Dynasty (2)
“Beep! Beep! Beep!”
The referee’s shrill whistle echoed across the court.
Several officials rushed in at once, forming a human wall to separate Giannis Antetokounmpo from the others and restore order. By then, the floor was already a complete mess.
Earlier, the Kings had already been under a cloud because of the injuries to Butler and DeMarcus Cousins. Now, with Durant going down, that suppressed tension exploded into outright fury.
Even the desperate efforts of veterans Gay and Rose, along with several assistant coaches throwing themselves in the way, couldn’t stop it. The moment the game was halted, everyone charged onto the court, clearly looking to take it up with the Bucks.
Murray was the most unrestrained of them all. With his background as a Seattle street tough, this was practically his comfort zone. He flailed his arms and barked aggressively, itching to start something.
The Bucks players knew they were in the wrong, but for the sake of protecting their team leader and their pride, they refused to back down and surged forward as well.
Just as the clash was about to erupt, a voice rang out—shaky, yet unmistakably firm.
At some point, Durant had sat up on his own. The pain distorted his voice, but he still fixed his teammates with a steady gaze.
“Boss! How are you doing?”
Seeing Durant upright, the Kings immediately lost interest in tangling with the Bucks and rushed over to him instead.
“It hurts a bit, but I don’t think it’s anything serious.”
Durant tested his ankle briefly before answering.
The team doctor squeezed through the crowd and began emergency treatment on the spot.
“How is it?”
Chen Yilun stretched his neck, watching the scene as Durant was helped off, hopping toward the locker room on one leg.
“They haven’t done a full check yet, but the team doctor’s initial judgment is that it shouldn’t be too bad.”
Malone turned his head and explained.
“Hey—what’s that? Chen, your beads are everywhere!”
As Malone turned, he suddenly shouted after spotting something on the floor.
Chen Yilun looked down and realized that the bracelet he’d been wearing—the one his mother had prayed for and given him—had somehow snapped without him noticing.
The small beads were rolling all over the ground.
“How did it break all of a sudden?”
He stared blankly at his now-empty wrist. The bracelet had been fine all this time—why would it break at a moment like this?
Then, as if something clicked, Chen Yilun looked toward the now-empty players’ tunnel and fell into thought.
Getting undercut wasn’t a joke. Plenty of players had seen their entire careers affected by a single incident like that.
Chen Yilun had seen Durant’s fall clearly—it was solid, no doubt about it.
And yet the team doctor was saying the injury wasn’t serious.
Could it really be that some unseen force was watching over him?
Before long, the answer came back from the medical staff.
Durant had only suffered a mild sprain. It wouldn’t affect the upcoming games—and if things went well, there was even a chance he could return in this very game.
“What insane luck—misfortune turning into a blessing!”
Malone let out a long breath, his whole body finally relaxing.
“Great, great!”
Gay burst out laughing on the bench.
“Heaven hasn’t abandoned Sacramento!”
Everyone knew that the current Kings were being kept alive by Durant.
The roster was loaded with talent, but when it came to truly holding things together, only Butler and Durant could shoulder that responsibility.
The rest of the young guys still needed time to build experience in high-stakes games.
That kind of experience couldn’t be rushed with one or two championship runs. It required real authority on the court, genuine trust, and a massive accumulation of game reps to forge a true franchise star.
The two young players the team was investing in most heavily—Jokić and Booker—were still short on exactly that kind of sample size.
So if Durant went down, the Kings’ collapse would only be a matter of time.
Stories about young heroes stepping up at the brink and saving the team were nothing more than beautiful fantasies before a quiet exit.
Now that Durant was fine, the Kings’ championship outlook remained steady. Even more unexpected was that after Durant went down, the team initially looked disorganized.
But the moment they learned he was okay, the young players suddenly came alive, charging at the Bucks as if shot full of adrenaline.
Having the leader go down and the young guys having to figure things out on their own was one thing. Taking charge of a Finals game by yourself was something else entirely.
With two minutes left on the clock, the Kings were still up by six.
“Swish!”
The Bucks ran a series of frantic screens and cuts to free Brogdon on the perimeter. He rose up and fired—the ball kissed the backboard and dropped through.
The Kings’ players all looked a little grim.
The gap was back to a single possession. After Brogdon buried that three, the Bucks’ momentum visibly surged.
Even though the Kings were still leading, the flow of the game had clearly tilted toward Milwaukee.
Sensing trouble, Malone quickly called his second-to-last timeout.
“What do we do now?”
Murray turned to Jokić and asked.
With Durant off the floor, the entire Kings offense was resting on Jokić’s shoulders.
What Murray couldn’t wrap his head around was how Jokić had basically played nonstop during this stretch.
On offense, he was scoring and playmaking at the same time. On defense, he still had to step in and help absorb Giannis Antetokounmpo’s relentless drives.
This big guy looked like he should be gasping for air after two steps, yet here he was—just a bit flushed, sweating lightly.
“What else can I do?”
Jokić shook his head.
“I’ve already used everything I’ve got.”
“Is this really how it ends?”
Just as Murray was sinking into despair, an unexpected roar erupted inside the Golden 1 Center.
The volume of the cheers was so overwhelming that both teams were momentarily confused.
“What’s going on?”
Booker looked up at the crowd, scratching his head.
“Over there—over there!”
Siakam’s voice trembled with excitement as he pointed toward a spot.
Following his finger, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance of the players’ tunnel.
“How long was I gone? You can’t even handle something this small?”
Durant stepped back onto the court amid a tidal wave of cheers.
“Looks like I still have to clean things up for you guys!”
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