NBA: Northeast China's spectacular dunks sweep the entire league.

When Lin Hao arrived, Thibodeau was already standing in the center of the field, holding a tactical board in his hand and a box of new training cones at his feet.

I glanced at the time: 6:45.

He was wearing a black tracksuit today, the collar zipped all the way up, a whistle hanging around his neck, and a stopwatch clutched in his hand. His glasses reflected the white light of the fluorescent lamp, obscuring his eyes.

Old Nelson sat on a bench by the court, a cigar dangling from his lips, a half-open tactics manual lying in front of him. He wasn't looking at the manual; his gaze swept back and forth across the field, a look on his lips that was hard to decipher—a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

The team members gradually arrived. They changed clothes, put on protective gear, and tied their shoelaces.

No one spoke; the locker room was so quiet that the only sounds were the ripping of Velcro straps and the rustling of shoelaces.

Payton had a habit of taking things out of his mouth, breaking them in two, and throwing them into the trash can.

Oh, he didn't have a toothpick in his mouth today.

At exactly seven o'clock, Sibodu blew his whistle.

"gather."

Everyone stood in a line. Thibodeau stood at the front of the line, with Nelson sitting beside him. Neither of them looked at the other, but there was a tense atmosphere in the air.

"Today's training: intra-squad scrimmage." Thibodeau's voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a nail driven into the floor. "Offense, Coach Nelson will be in charge. Defense, I will be in charge. Four quarters, twelve minutes each, real competition. Fouls will be called, turnovers will be counted, and each team will have two timeouts."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over everyone.

"The winning team will have half the training time tomorrow. The losing team will have to do 20 extra sets of shuttle runs."

Richardson's eyes lit up. Half the number? Twenty shuttle runs? That's a huge gamble.

Old Nelson stood up from the bench, tucked his cigar between his fingers, and exhaled a puff of smoke: "Offensive starting lineup—Lin Hao at point guard, Knicks at shooting guard, Jason at small forward, Troy at power forward, and Eric at center."

Thibodeau continued, "The starting defensive lineup is: Gary at point guard, Gilbert at shooting guard, Mike at small forward, Adona at power forward, and Clifford at center."

Lin Hao glanced at the defensive lineup. Payton was guarding him, Arenas was guarding Exel, Dunleavy was guarding Richardson, Foyle was guarding Murphy, and Dampier was guarding him—no, Dampier was on the offensive line, and Foyle was the center on the defensive line. Thibodeau had assigned Dampier to the offensive line, which meant that the defensive line lacked significant height in the paint, but Foyle's strengths were his quick footwork and ability to switch on defense.

This is a targeted lineup. Thibodeau sacrificed interior height in exchange for faster defensive switching.

Lin Hao walked to the offensive half of the court, bent down and patted the floor. Old Nelson stood on the sideline, without a tactical board in his hand, just smoking a cigar and squinting.

"Get moving," said Don Nelson. "Don't worry about what they're defending, just play your game. Seven seconds on offense, don't let the ball stick to your hands."

Thibodeau stood near the baseline in the defensive half, arms crossed, offering no words of encouragement. He simply looked at his five players, his gaze shifting from Payton to Arenas, then to Dunleavy, Foyer, and Murphy—no, Murphy was on offense. The defensive team's power forward was Adornal Foyer, who played center, and the power forward was… Lin Hao glanced again. The defensive team's power forward was Dunleavy, and the small forward was Arenas? Wait, Arenas played small forward?

Lin Hao understood. Thibodeau had deployed a defensive lineup without fixed positions—Payton guarding the backcourt, Arenas guarding the shooting guard, Dunleavy guarding the small forward, Foyle guarding the power forward, and Clifford Robinson guarding the center. All five players were between 6'6" and 6'9" tall, and each could switch to guard at least three positions.

This was the prototype of Thibodeau's "switch-everything defense" that he didn't have the chance to use with the Rockets.

The referee blew the whistle, and the match began.

Dampier and Foyer jump for the ball. Dampier, with his height advantage, easily passes the ball to Lin Hao. The moment Lin Hao receives the ball, Payton is already close in—not waiting for him to dribble before defending, but starting to stick to him from the moment he receives the ball.

Lin Hao didn't panic. He dribbled twice and passed the ball to Van Exel, who was running towards the wing. As soon as Van Exel received the ball, Arenas pounced on him. Arenas was faster than Payton; he wasn't just marking him closely, he was going around him—preventing Van Exel from receiving the ball and, more importantly, from shooting.

Van Exel dribbled once, found no space to break through, and passed the ball back to Lin Hao. Payton closed in again, this time even closer, his chest pressing against Lin Hao's waist, his hands constantly interfering with his dribbling.

Seven seconds are almost up.

Lin Hao glanced at the timer; five seconds had passed. He had no time to organize another attack, so he forced a jump and launched a three-pointer despite Payton's interference.

The ball hit the front edge of the rim and bounced out.

Foyle boxed out Dampier, grabbed the rebound, and immediately passed it to Payton. Payton received the ball but didn't push for a fast break. Instead, he steadily dribbled across half-court, slowing down the pace.

Thibodeau shouted from the sidelines, "Wait!"

Payton gestured, and the defense began to set up their defense. Foyle moved to the high post to set a screen for Payton, who used the screen to drive. Lin Hao switched onto Payton. Payton didn't force a shot, but passed the ball to Dunleavy cutting to the weak side. Dunleavy caught the ball and went for a layup; Murphy was a step too slow to help, and the ball went in.

2:0.

Old Nelson frowned on the sidelines, not calling a timeout, but simply yelling, "Run! Don't let them get into position!"

Lin Hao received the ball on the baseline and quickly advanced. This time, Payton didn't wait for him in the frontcourt, but instead started delaying him near the midcourt line. Lin Hao used a behind-the-back dribble to get past Payton and rushed to the three-point line, where he saw that the defense was already in place—Foyle was standing on the edge of the paint, Dunleavy blocked Richardson's cutting route, and Arenas was closely marking Van Exel.

There were no opportunities for a fast break.

Lin Hao slowed down and passed the ball to Murphy, who had moved to the high post. Murphy received the ball, and Foyer switched to defend him. Murphy didn't shoot and passed the ball back to Lin Hao. Lin Hao then passed the ball to Richardson in the corner, and Dunleavy immediately helped defend. Richardson had no space to shoot and passed the ball back to the top of the arc.

The ball has been passed four times, and fourteen seconds have passed, but the offensive team still hasn't made a shot.

Old Nelson's face darkened.

Lin Hao knew he couldn't pass anymore. He dribbled past Payton, drove into the paint, and Foyle came over to help defend. Lin Hao jumped and passed the ball to Dampier under the basket. Dampier caught the ball and was about to dunk when Dunleavy rushed over from the weak side and slapped the ball away.

The ball went out of bounds. The offensive team has possession, but there are only two seconds left on the shot clock.

The ball is inbounded from the sideline. Van Exel receives the ball and forces a three-pointer under Arenas' tight defense, but it misses completely.

The defensive team has possession of the ball.

Payton dribbled past half-court, this time not slowing down the pace, but passing the ball to Arenas who was cutting to the basket the instant Lin Hao rushed in. Arenas received the ball, Richardson switched defense, and Arenas didn't stop, passing directly to Dunleavy in the corner. Dunleavy took a three-pointer—and it swished through the net.

5:0.

Nelson finally called a timeout.

He called the five men from the attacking group to his side, without getting angry or even raising his voice. He squatted down and drew a line on the wooden floor with his cigar.

"They play a switch-everything defense," said Don Nelson. "Everyone can switch. You pass once, they switch once. You pass four times, they switch four times. The ball is always faster than the players, that's true. But they switch faster than you can pass, so you can't get the ball over there."

He looked up at Lin Hao.

"Lin, don't pass the ball out. Drive inside. They lack height in the paint, and Foyle is the only one who can protect the rim. Shoot him down, and their switching defense will break down."

Lin Hao nodded.

The timeout ended, and the offense inbounded the ball. Lin Hao received the ball and, instead of engaging Payton on the perimeter, lobbed it directly to Dampier in the low post. Dampier, with his height and weight advantage, backed down Foyle, took two steps, turned, and hooked the ball in.

5:2.

The defense attacked, and Payton once again slowed the pace. This time, Lin Hao didn't give him an easy opportunity to organize the offense, pressing him from half-court. Payton, experienced as ever, didn't force a drive, but passed the ball to Arenas. Arenas, facing Van Exel, made a crossover dribble, pulled up near the free-throw line, and shot a jumper—it went in.

7:2.

Lin Hao received the ball on the baseline. This time, he didn't wait for Payton to come up and accelerated across half-court. Payton didn't expect him to be so fast and was blown past in one step. Lin Hao rushed to the three-point line, and Foyle switched out to defend him. Lin Hao didn't slow down and directly changed direction to drive into Foyle's left side. Foyle couldn't keep up and could only reach out to pull him back—a foul.

Lin Hao stepped to the free-throw line and made both shots.

7:4.

With six minutes left in the first quarter, the score was 15-12, with the defense leading. The offense had scored 12 points, but every point was hard-earned. Lin Hao drew a foul and made the free throws, Dampier scored inside, and Richardson dunked on a fast break – the offense's only fast break score, coming from a rebound after Payton missed a shot.

The defense's 15 points came from Payton's pick-and-roll, Arenas' isolation plays, and Dunleavy's layups. While the total points weren't many, each basket felt like rubbing salt into the offense's defensive wounds—they were addressing the very issues the Warriors had exposed in their previous three exhibition games: slow pick-and-roll switching, weak-side shunting, and inability to keep up off-ball movement.

Lin Hao started panting. Not physically, but mentally. Every offensive play took over ten seconds to find a shot opportunity, and every defensive play was met with the defense tearing apart in various ways. This wasn't the basketball he wanted, nor was it the run-and-gun offense promised by Don Nelson.

At the end of the first quarter, the score was 22-18, with the defense leading by 4 points.

During the break, Old Nelson walked over to Lin Hao and squatted down. He didn't discuss tactics, but only said one sentence: "Lin, you're too kind."

Lin Hao looked up at him.

"This is an intra-team scrimmage, not a regular season game. What are you doing passing the ball around outside? You're number one in the MVP race, are you afraid of Payton?"

Lin Hao was stunned for a moment.

Old Nelson stood up, patted him on the shoulder: "Second quarter, you attack. Don't worry about whether they switch defenses or not, just disrupt their defensive formation first, and the others will naturally have opportunities."

Lin Hao glanced at the scoreboard, then at the defense. Thibodeau was squatting on the ground, talking to Payton and Arenas, his hands tracing patterns on the wooden floor, his expression unchanged, like a machine in precise operation.

Lin Hao took a deep breath.

The second quarter begins. The offensive team has possession of the ball.

Lin Hao received the ball, and Payton, as usual, came close. This time, Lin Hao neither passed the ball nor called for a screen. He dribbled a step to the left, Payton followed, and Lin Hao suddenly changed direction behind his back, accelerating to the right. Payton caught up, but Lin Hao didn't stop. In the instant Payton adjusted his center of gravity, he changed direction again, pulled the ball to the left, and took a pull-up jump shot.

Payton lunged forward and covered Lin Hao's face with his hand.

The ball flew from Lin Hao's fingertips, its arc both high and flat.

"Whoosh."

Hollow-core netting.

22:21.

Payton watched the ball fall into the basket, his lips twitched, but he said nothing.

The defense was on offense. Payton dribbled the ball across half-court, but this time he didn't slow down the pace; instead, he went straight for Arenas—he wanted a quick response. Arenas received the ball, faced Van Exel's defense, did a crossover dribble, stepped back, and launched a three-pointer.

Blacksmithing.

Dampier grabbed the rebound and immediately passed it to Lin Hao. Lin Hao received the ball and, without waiting for anyone, drove forward alone. Payton delayed near the mid-court line, but Lin Hao changed speed, squeezed past Payton on the right, and rushed to the three-point line. This time, Foyle didn't switch on defense—he hesitated because there was open space behind him.

Lin Hao did not hesitate.

A step beyond the three-point line, a pull-up jumper.

"Whoosh."

22 to 24. The offensive team has taken the lead.

Thibodeau frowned slightly on the sidelines. He didn't call a timeout, but simply put his hands in his pockets and stood up straighter.

Payton dribbled across half-court, but this time he didn't orchestrate the play; instead, he passed the ball to Arenas. Arenas faced a switch from Lin Hao—Lin Hao and Van Exel had switched, leaving Arenas in front of Lin Hao. Arenas attempted a drive, but Lin Hao's footwork was much faster than he anticipated, and he couldn't shake him off with two consecutive crossovers. Arenas panicked and forced a pull-up jumper, but Lin Hao's hand blocked his release point.

Three things to avoid.

Dampier grabbed the rebound and passed it to Lin Hao. This time, Lin Hao didn't push the ball himself. Instead, he glanced at Richardson, who had already run to the frontcourt, and delivered a long pass—the ball flew over the heads of two defensive players and landed precisely in Richardson's hands.

Richardson catches the ball and slams it down with both hands.

22:26.

The defense called a timeout.

Thibodeau crouched down in front of the five defenders, his voice low, but Lin Hao could hear him from halfway across the court: "Don't let him kill you all by himself. When he shoots, you swarm him. When he drives, you clean up. Don't hesitate. Payton, you stick to him, don't give him any space to shoot."

Payton wiped the sweat from his face and nodded.

After the timeout, the defense intensified even further. Payton stopped giving Lin Hao any space to receive the ball, harassing him from the baseline inbounds. It became much harder for Lin Hao to get the ball, and every time he received it, he had to engage in a physical battle with Payton for two rounds.

But Lin Hao did not stop.

In the third minute of the second quarter, Lin Hao received the ball, and Payton closely guarded him. Lin Hao used his body to lean against Payton, turned around, and made a fadeaway jump shot—Payton's hand blocked his chin, but the ball still went in.

In the second minute, Lin Hao broke through, and was double-teamed by Foyle and Dunleavy. Lin Hao found Richardson through the gaps in the defense and assisted him to hit a three-pointer.

Less than a minute later, Lin Hao intercepted Payton's pass, launched a fast break, and slammed home a windmill dunk.

In the final two minutes of the second quarter, Lin Hao hit three consecutive pull-up three-pointers over Payton, making two of them. Payton's face turned ashen. He had played basketball for over a decade, won Defensive Player of the Year, and no one had ever dared to shoot like that in front of him.

Halftime is over.

The score is 48-44, with the offensive team leading by 4 points.

Lin Hao scored 19 points, 5 assists, 3 rebounds, and 2 steals in the first half. His jersey was soaked with sweat, and beads of sweat streamed down his forehead and onto the floor.

He walked to the sidelines, took the water Zhao Dabao handed him, and drank half the bottle in one gulp.

Old Nelson walked over and sat down next to him. The old man didn't praise him, but simply moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other and said, "The second quarter was decent."

Lin Hao was panting and didn't say anything.

He looked up at the defense. Thibodeau was squatting on the ground, drawing something on the whiteboard. Payton sat next to him, and Arenas squatted opposite him. The five of them formed a circle, none of them speaking, all listening.

Payton looked up and glanced in Lin Hao's direction.

Their eyes met across half the court.

Payton remained expressionless, as did Lin Hao.

But both of them knew that the real battle would begin in the second half.