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

In the locker room, Lin Hao's phone screen was lit up; it was a message from Thibodeau. Opening it, he saw only one line—

"Switch on every inch of the court. Whoever can't do that sits on the bench."

No time limit, no group assignments, no tactical diagrams. Just this one line.

Lin Hao stared at the screen for a few seconds, then tossed his phone into his bag. Zhao Dabao, who was packing his things beside him, muttered, "This old guy is even more ruthless than Nelson. At least Nelson drew up a tactics board."

"Ruthless is the way to go." Lin Hao stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and said, "How can you win a championship if you're not ruthless?"

---

The next morning, Lin Hao pushed open the door of the training hall.

Old Nelson's pickup truck and Thibodeau's Ford SUV were still parked in their usual spots. But today was different—there was no arguing in the hallway; it was as quiet as a library.

He pushed open the door and saw Thibodeau standing alone in the center of the field.

The tactical board was on the ground, untouched. The whistle hung around his neck, unblown. His glasses were off, placed on a bench by the field. He just stood there, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on some empty spot.

"Coach?" Lin Hao walked over.

Thibodeau didn't move.

"You're here." The voice was flat. "Change your clothes. No warm-up today, let's get straight to it."

Lin Hao was stunned for a moment. No warm-up? Just go straight to the point?

He didn't ask, and turned to change his clothes.

At 7:00 sharp, everyone had arrived.

Thibodeau stood at the front of the line without giving any opening remarks. He blew a whistle and pointed to the markings on the floor.

"Five-on-five throughout. I'll personally guard the defense. Lin Hao will lead the offense."

"Rules—The offensive team has seven seconds to shoot. The defensive team switches defense indefinitely. After three consecutive successful defensive plays, the offensive team runs back and forth. After three consecutive points, the defensive team runs back and forth."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone.

"start."

---

The whistle blew, and Lin Hao caught the ball.

Payton closed in—not just regular close defense, but a suffocating swarm that started from the backcourt. Lin Hao changed direction to get past Payton and rushed to the three-point line. Dunleavy switched defense, blocking his drive. Lin Hao passed the ball to Richardson, and Arenas immediately filled in. Richardson then passed to Van Exel, and Foyle rushed out from the inside.

The ball has been passed four times, and there are still two seconds left on the shot clock.

Lin Hao received the ball at the top of the arc, and Payton was already lunging at his face. He leaned back and shot.

"Bang!"

Blacksmithing.

"Defense, make one save." Thibodeau's voice was like ice shards. "Offense, make a sprint."

Lin Hao made the first trip. When he returned, Thibodeau was standing in front of him.

"Why are you passing the ball around outside again?"

Lin Hao was panting and didn't say anything.

"Remember, when you pass the ball from the outside, they never need to be afraid of you."

Thibodeau turned and walked away, whistling, "Again."

---

In the second attack, Lin Hao changed.

Payton closed in, but Lin Hao didn't pass the ball; instead, he pulled up for a jump shot. Payton's hand blocked his face, and the ball flew past his fingertips.

"Whoosh."

Hollow-core netting.

It took four seconds.

Thibodeau didn't speak, he just nodded.

The defense is on offense. Payton dribbles past half-court, and Lin Hao switches to defend him. Payton doesn't force a drive, but passes the ball to Arenas. Arenas receives the ball, Van Exel closely guards him, Arenas turns, and the ball is stolen.

"Snapped!"

Lin Hao picked up the ball, didn't dribble, and passed it directly to Richardson who was running down the court. Richardson caught the ball and slammed it down with both hands.

"Clang!"

From steal to dunk, three seconds.

Thibodeau's whistle didn't blow. But he walked up to Payton and said, "You've been beaten, who's going to cover for you?"