Fujima's hand, resting on his knee, slowly tightened, his knuckles turning white from the effort.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to strip away the images of being continuously suppressed: Gu Jin's mobile iron tower, the wind stirred up by his blocks, the floor-shaking force of his dunk landings… These images were like heavy hammers, striking his taut nerves repeatedly.

Two seconds later, he opened his eyes, the panic in them completely gone, replaced by a near-cruel calmness.

Dribbling restarted, and this time, Fujima's rhythm was painstakingly slow.

The basketball seemed to have a life of its own at his fingertips, each bounce as light as a feather, yet with precise landing spots.

He no longer rushed to break through or shoot, but rather seemed to be measuring every inch of the court's distance, his footsteps subtly adjusting his position, his gaze never leaving Gu Jin's center of gravity.

Someone in the stands began to wonder, "What's wrong with Fujima? Is he giving up on offense?"

On Ryonan's bench, Koshino Hiroaki said, "He's deliberately stalling for time! But will that help?"

Taoka Moichi, however, narrowed his eyes: "No, he's looking for a pattern… This kid hasn't been broken yet."

Fujima was indeed looking for a pattern.

He made three consecutive fakes: a crossover, a behind-the-back dribble, and even mimicked Maki Shinichi's signature shoulder-drop drive—Gu Jin's defense remained like a programmed machine, always cutting off the most crucial routes, not an inch too much or too little.

It wasn't until Fujima attempted a fourth change of direction that he deliberately slowed his wrist movement. Just as Gu Jin's arm was about to shift horizontally, he suddenly accelerated his drive!

This was the 0.5-second gap he had bought with three fakes, the only possible breakthrough opportunity he could find at the moment!

"Now!" Fujima pushed off with his toes, his body shooting out like an arrow from a bow.

But as he took half a step, a shadow enveloped him.

Gu Jin's movement was completely unaffected by the fake; in just one step, he blocked Fujima again.

The barrier formed by his arm span was even tighter than before.

Fujima's heart sank.

He suddenly stopped, holding the ball in place, and looked up at Gu Jin.

The sun shone from behind Gu Jin, outlining the distinct muscular contours of his opponent, like an insurmountable mountain.

At this moment, countless images of past battles against strong opponents flashed through Fujima's mind—the evenly matched duel with Maki Shinichi, the back-and-forth struggle with Nan Lie, even the ease with which he handled national-level defenses… But the 'difficulty' in those images was completely different from the 'despair' he felt now.

Maki Shinichi's strength was like a tsunami's impact; you could fight with all your might, searching for his moments of respite.

Nan Lie's strength was like flowing water's changeability; you could maneuver with his rhythm, waiting for his mistakes.

But Gu Jin's strength was like the suffocation of a vacuum!!!

He had no flaws, no weaknesses, not even emotions.

All your techniques, experience, and predictions were like paper in the face of his absolute physical talent and terrifyingly precise defense.

The countermeasures you painstakingly devised, he could neutralize with the simplest methods.

The openings you thought you found were actually traps he deliberately left for you.

Fujima suddenly understood why Rukawa Kaede scoring against Gu Jin would be particularly remembered—it wasn't about how strong Rukawa Kaede was, but that against Gu Jin, the act of 'scoring' itself was already as difficult as ascending to heaven.

"In 1v1, you are the strongest I've ever seen, bar none," Fujima's voice was very soft, yet it clearly reached Gu Jin's ears.

Gu Jin didn't respond, merely maintaining his defensive stance.

Fujima smiled, a smile tinged with relief, but more so with reluctance.

He started dribbling again, and this time, his movements lacked the previous composure, replaced by a desperate, do-or-die resolve.

He no longer tried to find an opening but directly jumped to shoot against Gu Jin's defense.

The basketball arced from his fingertips, carrying all his strength and skill.

"Swish!"

The basketball went through the net cleanly.

The entire court fell silent for a moment, then erupted in even louder cheers—Fujima had scored!

Fujima gasped as he landed, sweat dripping into his eyes, stinging painfully, but he grinned.

1:4.

This score might seem insignificant to others, but to him, it was a crack he had forcefully torn open in this desperate vacuum.

However, he didn't know that this point was Gu Jin's respect for him.

A tribute to that persistence.

It wasn't holding back, just not going all out.

Gu Jin picked up the ball from the floor, tossed it to the referee, his face still expressionless.

Fujima wiped his face, bent down to hold the ball again, his gaze burning as he stared at Gu Jin: "Again."

This time, he no longer thought about technique or rhythm.

He just wanted to see what would be left at the end of this despair.

In 1v1, Gu Jin was indeed terrifyingly strong! And absolutely few people could score against him.

Because the defensive logic of 1v1 and 5v5 has a fundamental difference, which directly determines that Gu Jin's performance will show significant variations:

In a 1v1 scenario, defense is purely "single-point confrontation."

Gu Jin can pour all his attention, stamina, and defensive resources into one opponent—using extreme physical talent to lock down driving lanes, using precise anticipation to seal off shooting space, and even continuously high pressure to disrupt the opponent's dribbling rhythm.

At this time, the skill gap between the two will be infinitely magnified: as long as there is a clear difference in level, Gu Jin can completely rely on this "wholehearted focus" defense to prevent the opponent from completing effective offense, making a "shutout" not difficult.

But in a 5v5 team game, defense becomes "dynamic collaboration."

Even if Gu Jin focuses on guarding one person, he cannot invest all his energy as freely as in a one-on-one: opponents will use teammates' screens and picks to break free from defense, forcing Gu Jin to be distracted between "chasing defense" and "switching defense";

He also needs to cover for help defense; when a teammate is beaten, he must temporarily abandon his matchup to block the basket, which gives the guarded player an open receiving opportunity;

More importantly, the court space and tactical fluidity of 5v5 allow opponents to create receiving opportunities through off-ball movement, cuts, and weaves, and no matter how large Gu Jin's defensive range is, it cannot cover all of his matchup's movement trajectories.

Simply put, 1v1 is "point-to-point" absolute suppression; when the gap is sufficient, a "shutout" is a natural result of ability.

Whereas 5v5 is a "point merging into a net" systemic game; no matter how strong individual defense is, it will be diluted by team tactical contain and spatial dispersion, making it difficult to completely lock down an opponent as in a one-on-one.

Therefore, at this moment, Fujima indeed had no confidence in defeating Gu Jin, but he had confidence in leading Shoyo to victory over Ryonan!