My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 181 Death Game

This 2.18-meter-tall interior behemoth strode toward Bruce Lee, like a moving black iron tower.

Bruce Lee slowed his pace, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced at the stern-faced bodyguards around him. "Karim," he said, "you never brought this small army to the games before."

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's tall frame had become slightly hunched, almost imperceptibly.

He waved his huge hand, signaling the bodyguards to retreat to either end of the corridor, then pointed to an empty lounge next door, indicating that the two men should go in.

As soon as the lounge door closed, Jabbar slumped into the leather sofa that seemed rather small to him, clutching his face in pain with both hands.

"This season has been nothing short of torture, Master." His voice came through his fingers: "The team's record is a complete mess. We were run around like crazy by those Golden State Warriors guys in the playoffs and were kicked home early. But compared to basketball—"

"In January, there was a massacre in Washington, D.C. It was done by an extremist branch of the KKK. They stormed into a house, and that was—"

"That was the house I bought and donated to the community as a religious gathering center. They stormed in. Seven people, the master, even the children—"

The air in the lounge seemed to freeze instantly.

Qin Han stood quietly beside Bruce Lee, a hint of realization flashing in his eyes.

The "Hanafi Muslim Massacre," which shocked the entire United States, is a true reflection of the division and madness in the United States in the 1970s. Religious conflict and racial hatred meant that even the most prominent sports stars could not remain unscathed in this quagmire.

"Every night when I close my eyes, I can smell that horrible odor. I feel like I'm the one who ruined them, if I hadn't bought that house, if I hadn't—"

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar clenched his massive hands into fists: "During that time, I didn't even dare to leave the house. I hired thirty armed bodyguards for my family. I felt like every stranger who approached me was hiding a Remington shotgun under their trench coat."

Bruce Lee walked to the sofa, placed his hand on his apprentice's broad but trembling shoulder, and did not say any of those light words of comfort.

In the world of martial arts, only by facing fear can one shatter it.

Seemingly sensing the steady strength coming from his shoulder, Jabbar's emotions gradually calmed down.

He looked up, gazing into Bruce Lee's eyes, a glimmer of light rekindling in them.

"But I made it through. Because I saw the news." Kareem Abdul-Jabbar gripped Bruce Lee's wrist. "The bomb crisis at the Oscars, and the sniper assassination attempt you had at Long Beach Harbor. The whole of America was watching you."

"You faced weapons capable of destroying a building, and those reckless Japanese suicide soldiers. Instead of backing down, you stood in the octagon, declaring war on the evil forces of the world!"

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar stood up, his 2.18-meter height almost filling the entire room: "That day, I watched your live broadcast on TV. I suddenly understood the Jeet Kune Do philosophy you taught me: when facing fear, the only way out is to embrace it like water, and then turn it into a tsunami to completely destroy it."

"Constant concessions will only invite more trouble. So, some time ago, I restarted the charity activities at that community center."

Bruce Lee smiled with satisfaction and patted Kareem Abdul-Jabbar hard on the back.

"Martial arts are never in the ring, Karim. They are in every choice you make with every breath. You overcame your inner cowardice, which is greater than how many points you score in the paint."

After saying that, Bruce Lee turned to the side, letting Chin Han, who had been standing half a step away, come in front of him.

"Now that you have stood up again, I must introduce you to a true comrade-in-arms."

"Qin Han. My last personally trained disciple in the United States, your junior brother. Of course, he also has another identity: the head of Han's Security and Han's Film Industry."

"Back in Long Beach Harbor, it was he who led his men to drag out those rats hiding in the shadows and sniping at us, one by one, and send them all to hell."

Bruce Lee glanced at the tense bodyguards outside Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's door and added, "If you feel your security team isn't professional enough, just find Qin. His company is full of battlefield veterans who know how to shut those extremists up forever."

Upon hearing this, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar immediately lowered his head and carefully examined the young Chinese man in front of him.

"My God, so you're the man who orchestrated everything behind the scenes. I've heard so much about you, Qin! Today I've finally met a living legend!"

Qin Han stepped forward and unabashedly grasped the giant hand.

The moment their hands met, Jabbar could clearly feel an unshakeable power within this seemingly disparate young man.

"Protecting my master and fellow disciples is my duty." Qin Han laughed heartily, sweeping away the previous tension. "As for legends, that's just newspaper hype. Karim, although the basketball season is over, I believe we'll have many opportunities to meet in the future on another court."

Upon seeing his mentor, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's previously gloomy mood brightened: "Now that the season is over, I'll take you guys to the best steakhouse in Beverly Hills tonight, it's on me!"

An hour later, in a very secluded, upscale private restaurant in Beverly Hills.

Heavy red velvet curtains kept outsiders away, and the long oak dining table was laden with sizzling tomahawk steaks and fine vintage wines.

Bruce Lee put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stared intently at Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who was devouring a two-pound steak.

"Karim, now that the offseason is here, besides training, what are your plans for the next few months?"

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar swallowed the beef in his mouth and poured himself a Coke. "It's the only time I can have something like this during the season! Nothing special planned, maybe I'll play in a few charity exhibition games, or spend time with the kids at home. Master, what are your plans? Do you need me to train with you?"

"Practice is secondary." Bruce Lee smiled at the giant: "I want you to make movies with me, to create the ultimate bible of Jeet Kune Do."

Jabbar's hand holding the fork froze in mid-air as he stared wide-eyed at his master, as if he had heard some unbelievable joke.

"A movie? Me?" He held up his finger, pointing incredulously at his own nose. "Master, don't joke around. I'm a center who rebounds in the paint, not one of those Hollywood models with slicked-back hair."

"The moment a camera is pointed at me, I freeze like a board. I'll turn your masterpiece into a hilarious school comedy!"

He waved his hands repeatedly, his voice full of resistance.

He wouldn't even flinch if you asked him to defend Wilt Chamberlain, but asking him to act would be too much of a struggle.

"Karim, don't rush to refuse. Listen to my idea first."

Bruce Lee ignored his hesitation, his eyes burning with a fervent creative fire: "This movie is called 'Game of Death.' Its central setting is a five-story wooden pagoda. Each floor of the pagoda is guarded by a top martial arts master."

"The first level is a variation of Jeet Kune Do, the second level is the unpredictable nature of Mantis Kung Fu, the third level is the fierce power of the Filipino magic wand, and the fourth level is the powerful strength of Korean Aikido!"

Bruce Lee's speech quickened, his hands gesturing in the air as he described various martial arts techniques: "The protagonist must fight his way up layer by layer. In this process, he cannot stick to any particular style. He must constantly adapt to the environment, discern his opponent's weaknesses, and break free from all the constraints of any school. This is 'using no way as way'!"

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar listened intently, and as a Jeet Kune Do practitioner, he could deeply feel the depth contained in the script.

"What about the fifth floor? What is the ultimate challenge at the very top?" Kareem Abdul-Jabbar couldn't help but ask.

Bruce Lee stopped his movements: "The ultimate challenge is the absolute crushing of innate advantages. It is a gatekeeper who does not belong to any traditional martial arts style, but who makes people feel hopeless with his superhuman physique and reach."

"I want you to put on your shorts, sunglasses, and sit on the throne on the fifth floor. I want to show the world how Jeet Kune Do finds a sliver of hope in a desperate situation when facing a black giant who is 2.18 meters tall and weighs 240 pounds!"

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's heart suddenly raced, but he still had reservations, fearing that his poor acting would ruin the perfect atmosphere.

Seeing Karim's hesitant expression, Qin Han, who had been silent until now, spoke up and advised, "Karim, do you think that acting in movies requires memorizing lengthy Shakespearean lines and practicing how to shed tears in front of a mirror?"

"The male lead had only ever played supporting roles in underground videotapes before; the female lead had been sorting through discarded lenses in an eyeglasses factory just months before. They had no idea what Stanislavski was," or what voice, acting, and physical expression were.

"But when the male protagonist, dressed in smelly clothes, was running frantically through the vegetable market at four in the morning to make a living; when the female protagonist was trembling with fear in the face of threats from thugs—the producer behind the monitor was shaking all over and tears were streaming down his face."

"Because that's not acting, that's real."

"We don't need you to contribute Oscar-worthy micro-expressions for 'Game of Death.' We just need you to be that monster who dominates the NBA paint."

"Stand up straight, put on those cold and ruthless goggles, and when you and your master appear side-by-side, the extreme visual tension, like David challenging Goliath, is itself one of the most stunning scenes in film history!"

Qin Han's words brought to Jabbar's mind an image of himself standing atop a pagoda, looking down at all the challengers.

The competitive spirit and desire for martial arts that belong to top athletes finally overwhelmed their fear of the camera.

"Alright! I'll take the villain role while it's the off-season! Master, Qin, just give me a call anytime you need me to join the crew!"

The following morning, at Universal Pictures' "Black Tower" headquarters in Los Angeles.

An atmosphere of anxiety permeated the office of CEO Sidney Sinberg—the executive vice president had finally been promoted to the permanent position after the old leader's retirement.

Sidney was looking through the concept art and storyboards for "Game of Death" that Bruce Lee had brought.

"Genius! This is an incredible idea!" He slammed the folder shut. "Bruce, you always know where the audience's adrenaline is. This will be a pop culture tsunami sweeping across America!"

"Universal has taken this film! The budget channel will open for you this afternoon. Which studio would you like to build that pagoda in? Studio one or studio three? It's up to you!"

Sidney had thought that after Warner Bros. made "Enter the Dragon," Han's kung fu movies would completely shift towards Warner Bros., but he didn't expect that the script would fall to Universal, which made him very excited.

-

"If every director I worked with were as reliable as you, Bruce."

"Qin, I swear, that madman Steven Spielberg will drive me to a heart attack one day!"

He put away the design drafts for "Game of Death," grabbed a financial statement from the table, and shook it loudly: "Do you know what he did on the East Coast? That valuable mechanical shark became a pile of scrap metal, and he actually demanded that the entire crew stop work to revise the script!"

"His current filming schedule is full of random floating objects, and he even spends all day filming reflections on the sea! The finance department is pressuring me every day, asking if we're spending hundreds of millions of dollars to make an educational documentary about the Massachusetts coastline!"

Faced with Sidney's roar, Qin Han couldn't help but laugh: before the finished film was released, this kind of shooting technique would indeed make investors very worried.

"Sidney, anxiety will cloud your judgment." He smiled and poured the new president a cup of coffee. "Steven is executing my filming plan. Whether that scrap metal shark can be repaired or not is no longer important."

"Place the funds on time and don't interfere with the filming. I guarantee that when the rough cut of 'Jaws' is delivered to you, you'll be grateful you didn't bring the crew back today; it will be completed on schedule."

Sidney maintained his confidence in the Qin and Han dynasties, and suppressed his agitation.

"Alright, Qin. Since you dare to use Han's Film Industry's reputation as collateral, I'll go and stop those mad dogs in the finance department."

"A rational decision." Qin Han straightened up with satisfaction, then took out a film copy box from his bag and pushed it in front of Sidney.

"What is this?"

"This is a gift that my master specially brought back from his trip to Hong Kong."

"All the copies of 'Enter the Dragon' have been made. As agreed, the last bomb should be dropped."

Sidney's smile instantly spread across his face: "Looks like our tacit agreement with Warner can continue!"

Once "Enter the Dragon" rakes in another wave of box office revenue, Warner Bros.' "Enter the Dragon" will be officially released!

Then—Sidney looked at the manuscript of "Game of Death" and burst into laughter.