People in America: My Uncle Don Quixote

Chapter 104 A Roaring Cry (A Long Chapter of 10,000 Words, Paying Off Debt 5/10)

Saturday morning, the weather in San Antonio was amazing; the sun pierced through the thin fog that had lingered for days, illuminating the entire city.

Li Wei woke up according to his biological clock as usual, and after washing up, he went to the restaurant.

The breakfast was rather monotonous: whole wheat bread, boiled chicken breast, eggs, bananas, coffee, etc.

Although the restaurant offers bacon or waffles, very few people choose them.

With less than 5 hours until the match, nobody wants to falter at this crucial moment.

Li Wei accepted whatever was offered and ate whatever he wanted, making the running backs on the side extremely envious.

He even asked the kitchen if they could make him some carbs, like ramen or fried rice.

After finishing the last bite, Li Wei wiped his mouth and glanced at the time.

At 8:30 a.m., the Eastern All-Stars held their final pre-game meeting on the second floor of the hotel.

Douglas is gone, replaced by the coaches of the Eastern Conference All-Stars.

However, on this day, the coaches didn't say anything particularly inspiring. They had said enough in the past few days; they would save their harsh words for the locker room. Everyone knew the tactics board by heart, and today's meeting was more like a process confirmation: the starting lineup, the special operations team's code, and then ensuring everyone was wearing their protective gear.

"Like we said before," the coach closed his tactical folder, his gaze falling on Levi, "go and bring that damn trophy back."

At 9 o'clock sharp, all team members gathered at the hotel entrance.

As Li Wei walked out of the revolving door carrying his equipment bag, the sound wave struck his chest as if it were a physical object.

The streets outside the hotel had even been blocked off, with police cars flashing red and blue lights leading the way, while outside the cordon, players holding signs and all sorts of jerseys crowded together.

"Li! Li!"

"Look this way, Li Wei!"

"King!"

Screams erupted as Li Wei joined the group on a bus emblazoned with a giant All-Star Bowl logo.

As the bus slowly started moving towards the Alamo Dome, Li Wei looked out the window through the tinted glass.

Along the streets, crowds were gathering at the stadium. Many were waving red flags symbolizing the Eastern Conference teams, and a few enthusiastic fans were even shirtless, with Levi's image painted on their chests, chasing after the bus.

They came for me.

Thinking of this, even Li Wei's heartbeat quickened slightly, rising from more than 30 beats per minute to 40 beats per minute.

He somewhat enjoyed this slight sense of excitement.

"Hey, man." Li Wei turned his head and looked at the defensive end sitting next to him—a big, fat black man from Georgia, even more muscular than Manu.

He was usually very loud and boisterous, but he was unusually quiet at this moment.

Following his gaze, Li Wei saw that the burly man, weighing 300 pounds, had his hands on his knees, trembling as if he had Parkinson's disease.

He was clutching a brown paper breathing bag tightly in his hand; the bag was already crumpled and wrinkled.

"Are you alright?" Li Wei asked.

"I...I don't know," the burly man's voice trembled, his lips drained of color. "I feel like I'm going to throw up. I've played in matches before, but never in front of this many people. I heard the number of people watching the online stream exceeded 300."

What if I mess up? What if I slip and fall?

"Take a deep breath, exhale twice," Levi said, "forcefully activate your parasympathetic nervous system...like this."

He demonstrated several times for the strong man.

"Listen, you're a five-star defensive end," he said. "Your bench press is 405 pounds, which is a lot less than mine, but your ground contact percentage is 92%. These are the numbers you put up in practice matches. These numbers don't lie and they won't change just because there are more spectators."

Amidst the throng of people, the bus slowly drove into the underground passage of the Alamo Dome Stadium, where the lights dimmed instantly, followed by the bright incandescent lights of the locker room.

The air was filled with the smell of muscle relaxant ointment and adhesive tape.

The Eastern Conference All-Star team's equipment department is quickly distributing helmets and shoulder pads. As a very mature and commercialized sport, the classification, maintenance, polishing, decal, replacement, and processing of athletes' equipment is also a well-established industry.

Li Wei sat in front of his cabinet and began to wrap his ankles methodically.

After getting dressed and doing a simple warm-up, the staff opened the door to the changing room.

"Five minutes!" he shouted. "Enter in five minutes!"

Inside NBC's studio, two commentators sat in front of the live broadcast desk, with the Alamo Dome's roaring stands as a backdrop.

"Good morning, America! Good morning, viewers across the nation! Welcome to the All-American High School Game!" Veteran commentator Mike Tirico flashed a professional smile at the camera. "I'm Mike, and next to me is my longtime partner, former NFL legend Kurt Warner."

"Good morning, Mike," Kurt Warner adjusted his headset and took the call. "San Antonio is absolutely insane today."

"Yes, we've never seen this kind of madness in the past All-Star Bowls," Mike said dramatically, glancing at the stat sheet in his hand. "Just now, the director told me that the current live viewership has exceeded 320 million, which surpasses the viewership of some NCAA Bowl games last year. And I think there's only one reason for all of this."

"That's right, Mike, Levi," Kurt Warner chimed in crisply, a classic photo of Levi's seemingly physics-defying vertical jump appearing on the screen. "This week, this young man from New York has shattered our understanding of what a high school quarterback is like, like an alien appearing out of nowhere. 40 yards in 4.29 seconds, 46.5 inches, 118 centimeters vertical jump—if I saw those stats on an NFL quarterback, I'd wonder if it was a printing error."

"So, this statistic is amazing even in the NFL, right?" Mike said. "We also noticed that there were a lot of female spectators watching the game. Kurt, could you explain to everyone what this statistic represents?"

"It's like..." Kurt Warner paused for a moment, "You're facing a grizzly bear with the explosive power of Usain Bolt."

"Let me add something further. The fastest 40-yard dash time for a quarterback in history is 4.33 seconds, achieved by Michael Vick during his college tryouts. Levy improved that record by a full 0.04 seconds in high school," he added. "This is an extremely rare statistic even in the history of all positions in the NFL, meaning he is faster than 99% of current wide receivers and cornerbacks in the NFL."

"In other words, this is a nightmare for the Western All-Stars," Mike Tirico said. "It means that as a quarterback, Levi not only has passing vision in the pocket, but also, once the pocket breaks down, his explosive power is enough to shake off all the linebackers on the field, and even fly over the defensive second line."

"But I still have doubts about his performance in actual games," Kurt said. "The data is a bit too exaggerated, and there's another issue—in rugby, it's not about having good physical attributes so you can ignore all teamwork and lead the team to victory on your own."

"I bet you, Kurt, haven't seen any of Levi's game footage, even though there's very little of it," Mike Tirico said with a laugh. "When Levi led his team to the PSAL championship, it was all thanks to his unique and fierce individual ability. He turned football into a display of individual heroism, showing us a second 'Levi' legend. I guarantee he'll bring surprises to the NFL."

"I know, but the reference group is different," Kurt was still not very optimistic about Levi. "He's a superman in a regular public high school league, but this is the TOP100 in the United States, and there's the NFL, which is an even higher level in the future. Let's wait and see how he actually performs."

"That's right, let's wait and see," Mike said. "Okay, the director tells us that the ceremony is ready, let's cut back to the scene."

Meanwhile, 2000 kilometers away in San Antonio, at 345 Park Avenue in New York, in a multimedia conference room of the NFL headquarters building.

The huge high-definition screen on the wall was divided into several screens. In the center was the live broadcast of the All-Star Game, while the surrounding small windows were connected to encrypted video conferences of several important figures.

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, sipping coffee, was chatting with Giants owner John Mara across a screen.

"The viewership has surpassed 330 million," he said. "And that's before he even took the stage. That's quite an impact."

“I already told you, Roger,” Mara said with a smile, “my intuition was right.”

"Let's see how he performs first," said another influential team owner. "I've always felt that this kind of diversity for the sake of a new president is not a good thing. The NFL should stick to its traditions. Our base is right-wing traditional Americans, and it's a red state."

"A new era calls for new stories," Roger concluded definitively. "Anyway, it's just a special regulation; we'll have to see how it goes step by step."

At this moment, it wasn't just NFL professionals who were paying attention to the game.

CasadeCampo Resort, Dominican Republic, Caribbean Sea.

It's 11 a.m. in the Eastern Time Zone of the Americas. The sun is shining brightly, and the Caribbean breeze carries its unique salty and warm scent.

Elizabeth Mellon is sitting on the terrace of a private oceanfront villa, with the seventh green of the world-famous Teeth of the Dog golf course behind her.

She was dressed in a white linen casual outfit, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat. On the round table in front of her was a glass of iced lemon tea with mint leaves and an iPad Pro that was being set up.

"Liz (Elizabeth's nickname)," a young woman with a London accent approached, "it's time for the next serve."

"You guys go first," Elizabeth said without turning her head. "I'll finish reading this section first."

Monaco, Porto Monte Carlo.

A superyacht is gently rocking with the waves of the Mediterranean Sea.

On the sun-drenched deck, Anya, wearing large sunglasses and a bikini, lay lazily on a deck chair.

On the table next to her was a large television connected to a satellite signal, which was broadcasting a live stream from NBC.

Don Quixote and Lily sat in the VIP box of the Alamo Dome, his palms sweating profusely.

The soundproof glass here blocks out some of the deafening noise from the outside, but you can still feel the entire building vibrating as the audience stomps their feet.

"Has Brother Li Wei come out yet?" Lily changed into an Eastern All-Star jersey, wore sunglasses on her nose, and waved a huge inflatable baton in her hand.

"Soon, soon," Don Quixote muttered to himself, "He should be on stage soon."

In a bowling alley in Queens, New York, scout Wens and coach Miller sat in a booth, with the live broadcast screen above them.

In a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, Travis was hiding in a corner of the cold storage room with his phone in hand.

Craig, having failed to win Jasmine's heart once again, sat alone in the living room and turned on the television.

In a luxury apartment in Manhattan, Mrs. Dolores lit a cigarette and turned on her computer screen.

The Alamo Dome Stadium.

A massive inflatable helmet tunnel stands at one end of the touchdown zone, with white spray made of dry ice gushing out wildly, shrouding the tunnel entrance in a mist.

The locker room door was tightly closed. The head coach of the Eastern All-Star team stood in the center of the locker room, his gaze sweeping over every young face like a hawk.

"Listen, gentlemen," his voice wasn't loud, but it carried a remarkable weight in the enclosed space, "this week, you've had enough of the media hype, the scouts' analysis, and my and the coaching staff's tactical nagging. Now, that's all that's been said."

He paused for a moment, then pointed to the door leading from the locker room to the stadium.

"On the other side of the door are 56000 spectators, millions of eyes across America watching you, your future value, your ticket to the NFL. Some will see their value skyrocket after this game, while others will fade into obscurity."

"Don't tell me this is just a friendly match, don't tell me this is just the end of my high school career," he suddenly raised his voice, veins bulging on his neck, "This is a fucking war! This is a war between the East Coast and the West Coast! There's only one thing we have to do—"

"Take that damn trophy back to the East! Show those cowardly Westerners who the real rulers are!"

"Is it even possible?!"

"able!!!"

Dozens of people roared in unison, the sound echoing in the narrow changing room, making everyone's eardrums buzz.

"Good! Put on your helmets! Let's kill them!"

With a command given, the locker room door was suddenly pushed open.

The noise from the outside world was amplified tenfold, and the cold air mixed with dry ice rushed towards us.

The passageway was dimly lit, with only the entrance to the huge inflatable helmet at the end emitting a blinding white light.

Just then, the stadium's sound system cut off the previously noisy warm-up music.

After a brief silence, a highly recognizable, primal, and wild human chant, accompanied by clapping, resounded throughout the dome.

"Ei~A~A"

The heavy, rhythmic drumbeats, like warhammers, struck Li Wei's heart with each blow, creating a strange resonance with his heartbeat.

The group began jogging in the passageway.

The defensive players in front have already rushed out, and each time they rush out, they trigger a thunderous cheer from outside.

Li Wei was positioned at the very front of the attacking group, and also at the very back of the team.

He adjusted his protective gear, reached out and tightened the chin strap of his dark red helmet. The black goggles concealed the calmness and sharpness in his eyes, revealing only his sharply defined jawline.

"I'm living in that 21st Century, doing something mean to

"It..." (I live in the 21st century; I do things that only ruthless people do.)

The lyrics were perfectly timed to reach the climax.

"Your turn," the coach patted Levi on the shoulder, "King."

Li Wei took a deep breath, lowered his center of gravity, tore through the white mist, and rushed out.

"boom-!!!"

The moment he stepped onto the pitch of the Alamo Stadium, the cheers of 56,000 people coalesced into a tangible wave of sound, almost lifting the massive dome above his head.

The moment the figure in the dark red jersey appeared on the big screen, the pent-up cheers poured down like a dam bursting.

The ground was shaking, and the air was burning.

Li Wei felt his eardrums throbbing with the roars of tens of thousands of people. Even he experienced a surge of adrenaline at that moment.

A few minutes later, in the center of the field.

Wearing braces, Levi looked at Trevor Carson, the captain of the Western Conference All-Stars, through his black goggles.

The nation's number one high school player was also fully prepared, his white away jersey spotless, his eyes gleaming with undisguised fighting spirit and excitement.

The referee stood between the two men, holding a coin, and read out the rules.

"The moment has finally come, Levi," Trevor Carson said, extending his gloved hand with a bright and genuine smile while the referee checked the coin toss. "Let's not let those millions of fans down. Let's give them a game that will go down in history."

"Stop using lines from those shonen anime," Li Wei said with a laugh. "The Eastern All-Stars will give the Western All-Stars a good kick in the ass."

Trevor paused for a second, then burst into laughter.

"Hahahaha! I knew it!" He laughed so hard he almost fell over. "I've seen your game footage from New York, I knew you'd say that! Great, let's see who kicks whose ass then!"

"Heads! Eastern All-Stars go first!"

With the referee's whistle, the All-American High School Bowl officially kicked off.

The match was intense from the very first second.

There was no so-called probing phase; Li Wei displayed the despair-inducing stats he had in training matches right from the first gear.

The football flew into Levi's hands. He didn't even glance at the defensive lineman's pass. Instead, he lightly stepped back and, as a five-star outside linebacker from the West rushed towards him, he lashed out like a whip. The football, like a cannonball, drew a straight line through the air and, like a bullet that never faded, pierced into the arms of a running receiver 30 yards away.

However, Trevor Carson's reputation was well-deserved.

In response, he displayed textbook quarterback qualities in the next offensive possession. While his physical attributes weren't as extraordinary as Levi's, his understanding of tactics, pocket protection, and use of feints were simply masterful.

"Beautiful pass! 66 mph arm strength is practically cheating in a real game!" Kurt Warner exclaimed in the studio. "The ball was so fast, the West cornerback didn't even have time to react before it arrived!"

"Indeed," Mike Tirico commented, "West Coast players have maintained a 7-10 record against East Coast players over the past 10 years. Currently, although Levi has accurate long passes, he still can't create a significant gap with the West Coast."

"But I'm really looking forward to Levi's solo performance," he said. "I have high hopes for him."

However, to everyone's surprise, in this game, Li Wei did not show his extraordinary individual strength in the early stages. Instead, he acted like a normal quarterback, setting up tactics, making long passes, and running.

First quarter, 7-7 tie.

Second quarter, 14-14 tie.

No matter how spectacular a long pass Levi made, Trevor was always able to steadily lead the Western All-Stars to keep the score close.

As the game progressed, the situation began to subtly change.

Li Wei noticed that his teammates were starting to fall behind.

This was, after all, a hastily assembled team. The overall strength of the Eastern All-Stars, especially the toughness of their forwards, was clearly a level below that of the group of burly men from Texas and California in the West.

Every time the ball is kicked off, Levi faces much more pressure to rush the ball than Trevor; and while both are receivers, Trevor's teammates can catch those difficult side passes, while Levi's teammates, even if the ball is already in their hands, may drop it because they can't outmaneuver the opposing cornerback.

"This isn't fair!" Don Quixote in the VIP box slapped his thigh in frustration. "Those barbarians from the West, their defensive line is like a pack of rhinos! Levi has to face three men every time he passes the ball!"

By the end of the third quarter, the score was 21-24.

The Western All-Stars, with their greater bench depth and overall strength, capitalized on a mistake by the Eastern Conference to take a 3-point lead.

The atmosphere on the sidelines became tense. The whistle blew for the break, and both teams returned to their benches.

In the NBC studio, Kurt Warner looked at the technical statistics sheet in his hand, his brow furrowed, his tone revealing undisguised disappointment.

"To be honest, Mike, I'm confused and even a little disappointed with Levi's performance in these three quarters," Kurt said, taking off his glasses and pointing to the replay on the screen. "Everyone knows he has a terrifying speed of 4.29 seconds and explosive power with a vertical jump of over 1 meter, but for the entire three quarters, he was like he was nailed to a pocket, playing no different from a normal quarterback. But if I had to say something, his long passes were very accurate."

"While this is a core ability for a quarterback—and he's done it well enough, even better than Trevor Carson, who's currently ranked number one," he said, "why do I feel disappointed in him?"

"Because he's given us so many surprises before," Kurt said to himself. "Faced with a defensive line of the caliber of the Western All-Stars, the pocket protection in the East is already riddled with holes. Normally, a two-threat quarterback like him should have already broken out of the pocket to run the ball."

"This is really unlike him," Mike Tirico said hesitantly. "I've seen the tape of his PASL finals in New York, and he was like a wild beast unleashed. But today... could it be that being broadcast live across the entire US made him more reserved?"

"If he continues like this in the fourth quarter, the East is doomed to lose," Kurt asserted. "Trevor Carson isn't playing as well as him, but the West is stronger overall, and they are gradually eroding the East's space."

Meanwhile, on the Eastern Conference All-Star bench.

The black defensive end who had been so nervous in the car that he felt like vomiting was now covered in sweat and panting heavily, but the fear in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by a kind of exhaustion after completing the mission.

"Those bastards from the West..." He took a swig of water, looked at Levi, and said, "It's up to you, King."

"Well done," Li Wei nodded, his breathing still eerily steady. "Leave the rest to me."

The head coach walked over, but instead of taking the tactical board, he squatted down directly in front of Li Wei.

"Did you notice? The Western Conference's defensive frontline is already struggling to breathe," the head coach said, staring intently into Levi's eyes. "This is exactly our initial plan: to wear down those Falks' patience and stamina with positional play and constant physical contact. Now, the score is close, only 3 points behind."

"For the first three quarters, you were making the right reads and the right passes, acting like a standard quarterback."

"I'm not saying you're not good enough, but you've surprised us with far more than this," the coach patted Li Wei's knee. "From now on, there are no tactics, no screens. If the pocket collapses, you just have to rush out on your own."

Go get that damn ball into the end zone, the way only you can do it.

"Should we go for an alley-oop formation?" Li Wei asked with a smile, putting on his braces.

"Alley-oop?"

"Alley-oop".

The fourth quarter begins.

Eastern All-Stars are on offense, at their 25-yard line.

Li Wei stepped onto the field, and this time, he stood directly on the starting line.

He waved his hand, signaling all the receivers to spread out to the sides, even the running backs in the backcourt were moved to the flanks.

Airborne formation.

This is an extremely risky formation, meaning the quarterback will be left unprotected and face the opposing defensive line alone.

"What is he trying to do? Commit suicide?" Kurt Warner exclaimed. "With this formation, if the Western Conference defensive end breaks through, he won't even have anyone to set a screen for him!"

"kick off!"

As soon as the ball came into his hands, the two defensive ends from the West, each weighing over 280 pounds, tore through the defense almost without hindrance, rushing towards Levi from the left and right like two out-of-control trucks.

The pocket collapsed completely in that instant.

If it were Li Wei in the first three quarters, he would choose to pass the ball quickly or avoid it.

But this time, under the watchful eyes of 56000 spectators, he held the rugby ball tightly to his chest, lowered his center of gravity, and charged head-on at the two defensive stalwarts who were two sizes bigger than him!

"My God! Is he going to go head-to-head? Those are two defensive ends!" Mike Tirico's voice trembled.

"Bang-!!!"

A sickeningly loud thud as muscle struck armor echoed through every corner of the venue via the sound equipment.

Just when everyone thought Li Wei would be sent flying, an unbelievable scene unfolded.

Li Wei was like an armor-piercing bullet. With the momentum of his sprint and his unparalleled physical strength, he actually managed to smash a bloody path through the defense of two defensive ends!

One of the defenders, losing his balance, was knocked back several steps by Li Wei's unreasonable shoulder bump and landed hard on his backside on the grass.

Do you even understand the value of a silver body?

"Fuck you!!!!" NFL legend Kurt swore during the live broadcast.

Elizabeth Mellon stood up abruptly.

Anya sat up and then let out a cheer.

Don Quixote picked Lily up and spun her around in the box.

Scout Wens and Coach Miller hugged each other.

Travis yelled and screamed, then was caught by the warehouse manager.

Craig was constantly scolded by Jasmine for making too much noise.

As for the 56000 spectators at the Alamo Dome, they were first stunned, then erupted in deafening cheers and thunderous shouts.

"Stop him! Stop him now!" the Western Conference coach roared frantically from the sidelines.

Two linebackers tried to flank, but by then Levi had already picked up speed completely.

His 40-yard sprint in 4.29 seconds was far from his limit; the power he unleashed at that moment was enough to leave everyone else in the dust.

With a sudden stop and change of direction, Li Wei shook off the first linebacker who rushed at him. Then, facing the cornerback who was covering, he didn't use any more feints.

He stretched out his left hand and shoved hard into the helmet of the corner guard who was trying to grab him—a humiliating straight-arm block.

With the power boost of 2.6, the cornerguard was like a fawn that had been slapped by a giant bear, and was directly pressed onto the grass.

Li Wei left in a huff.

At this moment, there are no tactics, no coordination, only pure, suffocating individual heroism and violent aesthetics.

He sprinted 75 yards across the grass, followed by a group of Western Conference defenders who tried to catch up but could only watch helplessly.

The moment he charged into the touchdown zone, it felt as if the roof of the Alamo Dome was about to be ripped off.

Mike Tirico was pounding his fist on the table in the studio: "Kurt! Did you see that! Tell me you saw that! That's Levi! That's why he's number one in America! He doesn't need a pocket, because he himself is the strongest weapon!"

Kurt Warner was completely speechless at this point. He watched the replay of the figure who had broken through the defensive line and pushed down the cornerback, his throat dry.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something pessimistic, but after watching Li Wei take off his braces and make a shrug and dust-wiping gesture towards the camera, his throat felt like it was being choked, and he couldn't say a word.

"That's talent, Kurt, that's top-tier talent that's rare even in the NFL," Mike Tirico's voice was hoarse with excitement. "28-24! The Eastern All-Stars have taken the lead! There are 7 minutes left in the game."

Minutes later, Li Wei pulled the suspense back into focus with an audacious 75-yard sprint!

However, Trevor Carson clearly has no intention of giving up so easily.

As the top high school student in the nation, his pride wouldn't allow him to simply become the backdrop for Levi's solo show.

In the next five minutes, Trevor displayed incredible tenacity. Capitalizing on the fatigue of the Eastern Conference defense, he orchestrated a series of short passes, gradually chipping away at the opponent's points, ultimately winning with 1 minute and 58 seconds remaining in the game.

With a second remaining, he delivered the ball into the eastern end zone through a fake run and a real pass.

28: 31.

The Western Conference has regained a 3-point lead.

"Leeway has less than two minutes left," Kurt Warner said, looking at the timer. "And they're out of timeouts. That's hell for any seasoned NFL quarterback, let alone a high schooler."

His tone carried a hint of schadenfreude as he looked at Mike beside him.

"Let's trust Levi," Mike said. "I trust my gut feeling, Kurt."

The camera cuts to Li Wei.

"The hope of the East, the online watch of 300 million people, and the live attention of 56000 people," the head coach patted Li Wei on the back, "There are 2 minutes left."

"Two minutes?" Li Wei chuckled. "That's too long, Coach. I want to go back and take a shower as soon as possible."

"kick off!"

All the defensive players from the West swarmed in like mad dogs, risking everything to try and stifle Levi's final offensive attempt.

The pocket instantly collapsed.

Li Wei didn't pass the ball; he tucked it into his arms and charged to the right.

"It's a running ball! He wants to run it himself!"

A line guard anticipated his route and rammed into him; at the same time, a safety guard on the side blocked his path.

There are wolves in front and tigers behind.

Just when everyone thought Levi would be tackled at the 5-yard line, he made a move that took the breath away from the entire arena.

He didn't slow down or change direction. Instead, relying on his overwhelming strength of 2.6 and constitution of 3.0, he leaped high into the air to face the linebacker!

This isn't hurdling, this is flying.

He stretched his body in the air, and that vertical jump that had amazed the entire internet during the training game was reproduced once again. The leap that made him famous for the first time was reproduced again. He flew directly over the head of the linebacker who was trying to tackle him in the low post!

The instant he landed, facing the backup guard, Li Wei used the momentum of his fall to slam his shoulder into the guard's chest.

"Bang!"

There is no suspense.

The safety was rammed straight into the end zone, while Levi, like an unstoppable war god, carried the defender who was trying to hold him and forcefully smashed into the end zone!

The referee raised his arms.

"Touchdown!!!"

34:31! A game-winning shot!

Time resets to zero.

The entire Alamo Dome seemed to have been detonated by a nuclear bomb in that instant, the enormous sound almost shattering the dome. Red ribbons burst forth as the Eastern Conference players rushed onto the field, tossing the figure who had just gotten up from the ground high into the air.

"Incredible! Incredible!" Mike took off his headphones, his face flushed with excitement. "I've never seen a high school game like this in my life! He single-handedly defeated an entire army!"

New York, NFL headquarters.

The conference room was deathly silent, then erupted in applause.

Roger Goodell put down his coffee cup, a satisfied, even smug, smile spreading across his face.

"See that?" he said to the team owners around him, pointing to the radiant young man on the screen. "This is the new story we've been looking for."

John Mara leaned back in his chair, let out a long sigh, and wore a smug smile.

Dominican Republic, Casa de Campo.

Elizabeth Mellon took off her sunglasses and looked at the figure surrounded by ribbons on the iPad screen, a strange light flashing in her eyes.

"Liz? It's your turn to serve!"

"Coming," Elizabeth stood up, seemingly in a particularly cheerful mood. "Coming right now."

Monaco, Porto Monte Carlo.

"Good! Good! Good!"

Anya didn't even care that she was only wearing a shekini; she jumped up from the deck chair and excitedly spun around on the deck several times.

"See that? That's Cheng's boyfriend!" she said to several waitresses who were clearing away the dishes, even though they probably couldn't hear what she was saying.

Don Quixote was already sobbing uncontrollably. The bitterness had turned into sweetness, and the past days were nothing more than a few hardships.

Lily wasn't sad at all. Riding on Don Quixote's shoulders, waving her little flag, she shouted until her voice was hoarse, "Brother is the champion! Brother is the MVP!"

Travis had already been noticed by his supervisor because of his loud screams.

"Travis! What are you doing? If you don't want to work here, then get out!" The supervisor stormed over angrily.

However, Travis nonchalantly held up his phone, the screen almost shoved in the manager's face, and said, "Get out! See that? This is Cheng! This is Li Wei! Cheng used to train with him! He's the national champion now!"

"Look at Levi," Jasmine said to Craig, "Craig, you really need to try harder."

o

The Alamo Dome stadium occupies the central area.

Trevor Carson pushed through the celebrating crowd and walked up to Levi.

The top-ranked high school student in the nation had a hint of bitterness on his face, but more so a sense of relief and admiration.

"You're a monster, Levi," Trevor reached out and shoved Levi's breastplate hard. "That last jump... were you trying to kill that security guard?"

"It was he who led Cheng down this path," Li Wei said with a smile, bumping fists with him. "Besides, Cheng wants to leave work early."

"Add Tao in the phone after we get back to the hotel, we can hang out together sometime," Trevor asked. "Are you sure about things now?"

He didn't say what it was, but Li Wei knew what he meant and winked at him.

"I think so," he said.

"Good! Good, good!" Trevor laughed loudly. "You go first, the Prime Minister will be here shortly!"

"I'm always ready," Li Wei said, bumping fists with him.

A few minutes later, when order was restored to the scene, the podium had been set up in the center of the area.

All the spotlights converged on one point, and the NBC host, microphone in hand, spoke with a trembling, passionate voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, on this crazy weekend, you have witnessed history being made."

"This award goes to the best performer of the week at training camp, who broke multiple NFL records—the Training Camp MVP!"

"Without a doubt, it's Li Wei!"

Li Wei walked onto the stage and accepted the trophy. His jersey was covered in grass clippings and mud, but this became his most prized badge of honor.

"But this isn't the end," the host took a deep breath, "320 yards on the rim, 3 touchdowns on the rim."

He rushed for 186 yards and had two touchdowns, including that breathtaking game-winning shot.

"This is the first time in All-Star Bowl history that a player has won both the MVP and All-Star Game awards, unanimously! Benjamin Shese is the Most Valuable Player."

"From New York, Levi!!!"

When Li Wei raised the training camp MVP trophy in his left hand and the All-Star Bowl MVP trophy high in his right, roaring towards the stands, a shower of golden confetti rained down.

"Click—"

—

Countless flashes captured this moment.

In the photo, Li Wei stands under a shower of golden rain, holding the trophy high with both hands, with his teammates cheering for him and tens of thousands of spectators behind him.

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