While everyone was still pondering the intricacies of Cash Step, Taoka's mind was already focused on how to counter it.

"Again, this time I'm sure I can defend it," Taoka's eyes suddenly changed.

Gu Jin scored two consecutive baskets, thoroughly igniting his competitive spirit.

However, at this moment, perhaps only Gu Jin knew that with Taoka's current state, he couldn't break this offensive move yet.

One must know, even NBA superstars in later generations might not be able to consistently defend Kyrie Irving using this footwork.

Gu Jin considered himself not as good as Kyrie Irving, but Taoka's current skill level had not yet reached that of an NBA superstar.

What's more, Gu Jin was a legitimate professional player in his previous life.

"Taoka Senior, this set of footwork has many variations. What we should be practicing now is how to use it offensively, not defensively—I can't defend you if you use this move to attack either," Gu Jin said.

Taoka Moichi understood that Gu Jin's words were giving Taoka a way out.

But he knew Taoka too well; once his competitive spirit was stirred, he would never give up easily.

"Gu Jin, continue," Taoka's voice carried a stubborn intensity, and his fingertips ground against the floor.

Gu Jin, helpless, suddenly launched into action the moment he faked a dribble.

This time, the starting amplitude of the Cash Step was extremely small, almost gliding along the ground. The first step seemed to be breaking through Taoka's left side, but his ankle twisted sharply outwards upon touching the ground. His entire body drifted sideways as if pulled by an invisible string. Taking advantage of Taoka's shifting center of gravity, the second step suddenly accelerated, slipping through the gap between them. When laying up, his wrist flicked lightly, and the basketball grazed the top of the backboard before falling into the hoop. Taoka's block only hit air; he could even feel the wind generated by the ball as it passed.

"Again!" Taoka's breathing became heavier, and his defensive stance lowered even more.

This time, Gu Jin deliberately slowed down the rhythm, his footwork swaying slightly like a pendulum while dribbling. He suddenly lunged to the right. Just as Taoka shifted to block, his foot suddenly tucked inwards, and the rhythm of the Cash Step gained an extra half-beat pause, as if a slow-motion scene in a movie was suddenly fast-forwarded. Using this momentary gap, he almost completed a spin close to Taoka's body. When laying up, his hand avoided the opponent's block, and his jersey was even hooked up a corner by fingertips, but the basketball still went in steadily.

Taoka clenched his fists tightly, sweat dripping from his jawline onto the floor.

On the third shot, Gu Jin's Cash Step completely changed form.

It was no longer just simple left-right changes of direction, but incorporated continuous small-amplitude crossover steps into the breakthrough.

The first step went left, the second immediately pulled back to the right, and the third then leveraged the inertia to probe forward, his footwork tracing a complex path in front of Taoka like a twisted rope.

Taoka's defensive footwork was already in disarray. He clearly judged the direction correctly every time, but was always a half-beat behind due to the next sudden change of direction. By the time he lunged, Gu Jin had already completed a floater in the air, the basketball arcing high and falling steadily into the hoop.

Three attacks, three completely different footwork variations, with no discernible pattern in rhythm, direction, or amplitude.

Taoka pushed himself to the limit every time, his palm even brushing Gu Jin's wrist, but he always missed that last inch.

Taoka Moichi on the sidelines showed admiration. He clearly saw that Taoka's defense was already excellent, but Gu Jin's footwork was like a living thing, always finding a gap to break through in mere millimeters.

"No more, no more. I can't stop him," Taoka waved his hand, sweat trickling down his neat hair from his temples. The fiery sharpness in his eyes faded a bit, replaced by a relieved smile.

He sat down on the bench by the court, grabbed a towel, and haphazardly wiped his face. "This footwork is really uncanny. It doesn't look fast, but it always seems to know where I'm going to move in advance."

Gu Jin also stopped, bending over, hands on his knees, panting. Hearing this, he looked up and smiled, "It's not that your defense isn't good; it's that this footwork inherently relies on rhythm to deceive the center of gravity, plus the many changes of direction, which makes it truly difficult to handle defensively."

"Don't give me that," Taoka rolled his eyes at him, but his tone was much lighter. "Lost is lost. I'm not that bad a loser." He paused, then suddenly leaned forward, his eyes brightening again. "But I've memorized this footwork. Give me a few days, and I guarantee I'll learn it, and I'll find a way to counter it."

Taoka Moichi, watching from the side, nodded repeatedly. This was the Taoka he knew—never yielding in defeat, with a more stubborn drive hidden within his temporary retreat.

He walked over and patted Taoka's shoulder, "Alright, take a break first. Gu Jin, you come over too and explain the details of those changes of direction to everyone again. Since we can't defend it, let's learn how to use it first."

Gu Jin responded, and just as he was about to speak, he saw Taoka already standing up and walking to the center of the court: "Wait, Gu Jin, this time still go past me, but I won't defend. Let me see the pivot points of your footwork."

Sunlight streamed through the gymnasium windows onto the floor, illuminating Taoka's re-focused profile.

In that earlier declaration of "I can't stop him," there was no frustration; rather, it seemed like a lock had been released, making him even more eager to dissect the footwork that had stumped him.

Gu Jin looked at his back, knowing in his heart that this contest was far from over; it had merely changed form.

Seeing that Taoka had changed his mind, Gu Jin naturally walked onto the court, picked up the basketball, and demonstrated while explaining.

"Actually, the core of this footwork, to put it plainly, is 'deceiving the center of gravity,'" he said, lowering his center of gravity with the ball. "Everyone, look, the amplitude and direction of the first step are all feints. The key is the change of direction in the second step—it's not a hard twist, but a natural ankle rotation using the momentum of the first step, like cracking a whip. The moment the wrist exerts force, the tip of the whip can strike unexpectedly."

As he spoke, he stood up and demonstrated, his footsteps making light sounds on the floor: "For example, when I faked out Taoka Senior just now, my first step looked like I was going right, but my center of gravity was already on my left leg. With a push from the inside of my ankle, my body naturally slides to the left. At this point, the defender's center of gravity has just been pulled over and they have no time to recover."

Taoka stood by, arms crossed, his eyes following Gu Jin's footwork. He suddenly interjected, "Then for your continuous crossover steps just now, the steps looked small, where were the pivot points?"

"In the coordination of the knees and core," Gu Jin stopped, pointing to his side waist. "When making small changes of direction, your knees need to be like springs, always retaining some cushioning force when you land. Your core needs to be stable, otherwise your steps will get messy and your balance will be lost. Look—"

He walked through the crossover steps again, deliberately slowing down the rhythm: "First step, left cross, knees slightly bent to store energy; second step, pull right, core gently twists to guide direction; third step, probe forward again, which is actually carried out by the momentum from the first two steps. It looks like three steps, but the force is a continuous chain."

Taoka Moichi, listening from the side, his eyes lit up, and he couldn't help but ask, "Then does this footwork require extremely strong ball-feel to use?"

"Ball-feel is fundamental, but body memory is more important," Gu Jin smiled. "It's like eating with chopsticks; once you're skilled, you don't have to think about how to pick up food. When this footwork is practiced to the end, your footwork and dribbling must be like they're glued together. The defender sees your hands moving, but what's truly deadly are the changes under your feet."

Taoka suddenly stepped forward and tried a starting step, mimicking Gu Jin, but he stumbled a bit, and couldn't help but click his tongue: "It looks simple, but my body just can't keep up with my mind."

"That's normal. When I first practiced this step, it took me three months just for the basic changes of direction," Gu Jin handed him a bottle of water. "The key is in the details, for example, where your toes point when you land on the first step, how low you drop your center of gravity when changing direction. You have to meticulously practice these in front of a mirror."

The sunlight slanted across Gu Jin's face as he earnestly explained. He no longer mentioned the competition just now, only breaking down the footwork into actionable details.

Taoka watched his gestures and suddenly felt that those times he was faked out earlier were like the most vivid lesson he could have received—it's okay if some things can't be stopped. If they are broken down and thoroughly understood, there will always be a day when he can master them.