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

Lightning-fast strikes, even those that miss three shots, you'll practice until you're sick of it.

It was five o'clock in the morning again, and the sky was not yet fully bright.

When Lin Hao parked his car in the underground garage, he yawned. After practicing 500 spot shots yesterday afternoon, his arm was still sore as if it had been filled with vinegar.

"Squeak—"

The training facility door opened, and Dell Curry was already waiting on the sidelines. He held a stopwatch in his hand, and the high-speed camera was at his feet. When he saw Lin Hao enter, he simply nodded: "You're here? Warm up first. Today we'll practice 'Lightning Strike'."

"What? A lightning-fast move?" Lin Hao asked while tying his shoelaces. "Didn't we just finish practicing precision strikes yesterday?"

"Fixed positioning is fundamental, but release speed is the core." Dale held up his stopwatch. "From today onwards, your time from receiving the ball to releasing it must be within 0.8 seconds. Anything over 0.03 seconds is a turnover."

Lin Hao was stunned for a moment. 0.8 seconds? That's almost a third faster than his usual shooting speed!

"Old Dai, isn't this too fast?" Lin Hao tried out a catch-and-shoot motion. "My usual motion takes at least a second, right?"

"Habits are meant to be broken." Dale tossed him the ball. "Here, try ten."

Lin Hao caught the ball, subconsciously adjusted his footwork, raised the ball, and shot.

"1.1 seconds." Dell looked at the stopwatch, expressionless. "Too slow."

Lin Hao frowned and said, "Let's try again."

"1.0 second. Still slow."

"Again!"

"0.95 seconds. The center of gravity shifted."

"Again!"

"0.92 seconds. He pressed the ball down with his left hand."

The repeated rejections ignited a fire within Lin Hao. He gritted his teeth, slammed the ball to the ground, and it bounced high into the air.

"Lin," Dale walked over and put his hand on his shoulder, "Don't rush. Shooting speed isn't about brute force, it's about muscle memory. You need to turn the three actions of 'catching the ball - raising the ball - shooting' into one action."

The next two hours were the most tedious and frustrating of Lin Hao's career.

Dell stood under the basket, constantly tossing the ball to Lin Hao. Lin Hao had to catch the ball and shoot without adjusting his footwork.

At first, he could barely maintain a time of around 0.9 seconds. But as his physical strength declined, his movements began to become distorted.

"Thud!" The basketball hit the back of the rim and bounced out.

"Smack!" Another three-way miss.

"Thud!" The basketball slammed directly onto the backboard without even touching the net.

"47th turnover." Dale's voice was as cold as ice. "Don't use your left hand, just support the ball!"

Lin Hao was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his chin onto the floor. He felt like his wrist was about to break; the stiffness caused by his eagerness to succeed made every move feel incredibly strange.

"Again!" he yelled, picking up the ball.

"Smack!" It didn't touch anything.

"The 48th mistake."

"Again!"

"Smack!" The ball hits the rim.

"The 49th mistake."

Lin Hao's chest heaved violently, and his vision blurred. He recalled the playoffs last season against the Spurs, when Duncan's wall was right in front of him. He clearly had a chance to shoot, but because he was 0.2 seconds too slow, his shot was blocked solidly.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, slamming the ball hard against the ground.

[Ding! Host has triggered exclusive tactical training: Lightning Strike. Reaching 100% completion will unlock the special passive skill [Rapid Sniping]. Current completion: 12%. Warning: If training completion falls below 60%, attribute points will be deducted.]

The system notification sounded in my mind, cold and devoid of any emotion.

Lin Hao was stunned.

Deduct attribute points? You can deduct those?

He looked at Dell Curry's serious face, then at the basketballs scattered on the ground. No way, I absolutely can't lose attribute points! These are points I worked so hard to accumulate!

"Old Dai," Lin Hao's voice suddenly calmed down. He picked up the ball, a fierce glint in his eyes, "Let's change our training method. Throw the ball into my arms as hard as you can."

Dell Curry raised an eyebrow, said nothing, picked up the ball, and slammed it hard into Lin Hao's chest.

"Bang!"

The basketball flew in like a cannonball, and Lin Hao caught it instinctively, his body leaning slightly backward from the impact.

"0.85 seconds!" Dell looked at the stopwatch. "Still slow, but better than before."

"Again!"

"Bang!"

Another ball came flying at him, which Lin Hao caught and then lifted up.

"0.82 seconds! Keep your balance!"

"Again!"

"Bang!"

The ball hit even harder, and Lin Hao's hand went numb from the impact when he caught it. But he didn't hesitate; using the force of the impact, he flicked his wrist—

"Whoosh!"

The basketball swished through the net!

"0.79 seconds! Great shot!" Dell finally shouted.

Lin Hao's eyes lit up. He'd found it! That's the rhythm! The moment he received the ball, he used its momentum to jump, turning the defender's push into the power for his shot!

"Again!" he shouted.

Dell Curry kept slamming the ball down his throat. Lin Hao was like a tireless machine, catching the ball, jumping, and shooting.

The number of goals scored is increasing, and the number of mistakes is decreasing.

Sweat soaked a large area of ​​the floor, and Lin Hao's clothes were already drenched, but he couldn't stop. Only one thought occupied his mind: 0.8 seconds, I have to do it!

At 10:30 a.m., the door to the training hall was pushed open.

Zhang Qingying walked in carrying a thermos. Seeing Lin Hao covered in sweat, she frowned with concern: "Haozi, take a rest. I brought you some sauerkraut dumplings."

Lin Hao had just finished his 300th shot when he heard the voice and turned around, sweat still on his face: "Qingying? What brings you here?"

"I'm worried about you." Zhang Qingying walked over and took out a tissue to wipe his sweat. "You look so tired these past two days, your face has gotten thinner."

Dell Curry tactfully walked away to the sidelines to tidy up the equipment.

Lin Hao sat on the floor, eating dumplings with gusto. The steaming aroma of pickled cabbage filled his nostrils, instantly giving him energy.

"Old Dai just said that if I don't succeed, he'll push me even harder," Lin Hao mumbled through a dumpling. "That won't do. I didn't earn those attribute points easily."

Zhang Qingying laughed: "Then why don't you hurry up and practice? Stop chatting with me."

"Practice! We have to practice!" Lin Hao finished his dumplings in a few bites, grabbed a basketball, and ran onto the court. "Uncle Dale, keep going! We won't eat until we get to 0.8 seconds!"

The afternoon training was even more brutal.

Dell Curry stopped just slamming the ball; he started mimicking defense. He stood in front of Lin Hao and reached out to obstruct his view.

Lin Hao had to make a forceful move while someone was blocking his way.

"Smack!" It was covered.

"Smack!" It was covered again.

"Thud!" The basketball flew out of bounds.

But Lin Hao didn't back down; instead, he fought with even greater determination. He remembered how his coach had tormented him in the same way when he was a child at the Liaoning Provincial Sports School. Back then, he would practice dunking, falling and getting covered in mud, but he never uttered a sound.

"Again!" he roared.

Dell Curry looked at the stubborn young man with admiration in his eyes. This was the kind of disciple he wanted to see, not a hothouse flower, but a wolf in the wild.

Seven days later, at six o'clock in the evening, the setting sun shone through the windows, bathing the training hall in a golden light.

Lin Hao stood outside the three-point line, and Dell Curry tossed the ball to him.

Catch the ball, jump, and shoot.

The basketball traced an extremely high parabola in the air.

"Whoosh—"

Hollow-core netting.

Dell Curry glanced at the stopwatch, a smile finally appearing on his face: "0.78 seconds straight. Pass."

Lin Hao slumped to the floor, staring at the ceiling, panting heavily. But the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile.

He knew that from this day forward, his shooting would no longer be just shooting, but a deadly skill.

[Ding! Lightning Strike training completion rate reached 65%. Attribute deduction warning removed. Gained temporary buff: [Rapid Warm-up], Strike Speed ​​+5% (lasts 24 hours).]

Lin Hao looked at the system panel and chuckled.

"Dale," he got up, brushing the dust off his clothes, "what's next in our practice?"

"Drift three-pointer." Dell packed up his equipment. "Combined with your breakthroughs, practice mid-air adjustments."

Lin Hao clenched his fist, and his bones cracked.

"Okay. Let's continue tomorrow."

As Lin Hao stepped out of the training hall, the breeze felt wonderful. He looked up at the starry sky, his heart brimming with even more energy than after making that basket.

Just wait, guys, I'm coming for the new season.