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

The scoreboard in the training hall was glaringly bright, with the score fixed at 113-94.

The management representatives sitting on the sidelines had their coffees long since gone cold, but none of them could bear to take a sip. Their eyes were fixed on the scoreboard, as if what they had just witnessed was not an ordinary intra-team scrimmage, but a massacre in progress.

Lin Hao stood outside the three-point line, sweat dripping from his chin onto the floor, leaving a small, dark stain. He twirled the ball in his hand, his eyes as cold as ice, looking at the dejected "main players" opposite him.

This was the first team test match after a month of closed training.

Lin Hao led the reserve team, while the opposing team consisted of the main team led by Jamison and Dampier.

Before the game, no one was optimistic about Lin Hao's team. After all, the main team had Jamison anchoring the defense and Murphy and Richardson forming a firepower network on the wings, while Lin Hao's team, apart from himself, consisted of fringe players who rarely got playing time.

"Lin, are you serious?" Jamison patted Lin Hao on the shoulder and laughed before the game. "I'm going to make you question your existence, so don't cry."

Lin Hao just grinned, revealing a set of white teeth: "Old Jia, if you can't keep up later, don't blame me for not giving you face."

Jamison was now panting heavily, his hands on his knees. His purple Warriors jersey was soaked with sweat and clung tightly to his back.

"This is fucking..." Jamison muttered, looking at the scoreboard, "This is something no human could defend against."

The game lost its suspense from the very first quarter.

Lin Hao stood beyond the three-point line, needing little to no screen. Dell Curry sat on the sidelines, holding a clipboard, and simply waved.

Lin Hao understood immediately, dribbled the ball forward, crossed the center line, and did not slow down.

Jamison closed in on Lin Hao, skillfully blocking his right-hand breakthrough route.

Just when Jamison thought Lin Hao was about to force his way through, Lin Hao suddenly stopped.

That was a true "sudden stop"—his feet seemed nailed to the floor, his upper body showed no tendency to lean forward, and his wrist flicked—

"Whoosh!"

The basketball arced high into the air and swished through the net.

Released in 0.8 seconds. Clean and efficient.

"Great shot!" Dell Curry yelled from the sidelines. "That's the rhythm! Keep it up!"

Jamison froze, not even having time to jump and block. Lin Hao's shot was too fast; before Jamison could react, the ball was already in.

In the second quarter, Jamison changed his defensive strategy and began to chase and defend around screens.

But Lin Hao didn't give him a chance to go around the screen. As long as Jamison dared to go around, Lin Hao would just pull up for a three-pointer.

"Whoosh!"

"Whoosh!"

"Whoosh!"

Three consecutive three-pointers, each one swish-sweeping.

Lin Hao didn't even look at the basket; he turned and retreated to defense immediately after releasing the shot. That confidence, that control over his shot, sent chills down the spines of the management representatives on the sidelines.

"Is this still the same Lin Hao who could only dunk last season?" General Manager Mu Lin sat on the sidelines, his voice trembling slightly. "His shooting form is faster than any shooter I've ever seen."

"Chris," the assistant coach whispered, "Dale Curry's training this past month hasn't been in vain. Lin Hao's shooting now isn't just about physical talent anymore; it's pure technique."

In the third quarter, the main team got anxious.

Jamison started using physical contact, using his shoulder to bump Lin Hao's waist with every defensive play.

Lin Hao, however, seemed to have anticipated this. In the instant of the confrontation, he leaned slightly forward, using the force against him, and completed a very small drift in the air.

"Whoosh!"

The basketball swished through the net again.

Lin Hao landed, but before he could even stand firmly, he ran straight to the next landing spot.

His physical fitness was astonishing; he sprinted across the court while maintaining a steady heart rate and shooting rhythm.

With two minutes remaining in the game, the score was 110-94.