Gu Jin had just picked up a towel to wipe his sweat when Maki Shinichi's voice, full of anger, came crashing down.

The Hainan Team captain walked a few steps to the sidelines, his gaze sweeping over Kiyota, who was slumped on the ground, and finally resting on Gu Jin: "Gu Jin, you've gone too far."

The murmurs from the sidelines instantly surged.

The 10:0 score just now was too glaring, and Kiyota's dejected appearance was seen by everyone.

Some spectators couldn't help but nod: "It was indeed a bit ruthless. They're all players, there's no need to go for the kill, right?"

"Kiyota is almost crying. Couldn't Gu Jin have let him score two points?"

Maki Shinichi's voice deepened: "Do you know what this 10:0 means? This might be the only shutout in the entire Public Welfare Cup.

Kiyota is a rookie; you've completely shattered his confidence. How is that different from ruining him?"

These words were like a stone thrown into the crowd, and more people began to agree.

Even on Ryonan's bench, someone whispered, "Gu Jin was a bit too much today..."

Gu Jin, however, draped the towel over his shoulder, his eyes showing no ripple: "Too much? I don't think so."

He looked at Maki Shinichi, his tone calm yet sharp: "Before the game, Kiyota boasted that he would beat me 10:0.

If my skill was lacking, would he have let me score two points?

And now I beat him 10:0, and that's 'too much'? Double standards and moral blackmail, your behavior is truly annoying!

On the basketball court, it's about winning and losing, not 'should I show mercy'."

"You!" Maki Shinichi frowned, "He's a rookie, you should have..."

"Should have gone easy on him?" Gu Jin interrupted him, his voice not loud but it silenced the entire court for half a second, "Then should I have intentionally missed a few shots?

Should I have pretended I couldn't get past him?

This isn't good for him; it's deceiving him.

Letting him think he misjudged his own strength, is that how he'll improve?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the court: "Just now, every time he drove, he pushed himself until he stumbled; every time he tried to steal, he lunged as if he would fall.

That's his seriousness.

If I had deliberately held back, that would have been an insult to his seriousness."

The discussions on the sidelines suddenly changed tune.

Someone mumbled, "It seems... he has a point?"

"If I won because someone went easy on me, I might feel even worse."

Maki Shinichi's face was so dark it looked like water could drip from it.

He stared at Gu Jin for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled, though the smile didn't reach his eyes: "A fine 'not insulting seriousness'.

Gu Jin, you certainly have the capital to be arrogant."

He stepped back half a pace, his voice carrying throughout the gymnasium: "Gu Jin, in the next round, if you have the ability, shut me out too."

This was an open declaration of war.

Gu Jin looked up to meet his gaze, and a slight curve finally appeared at the corner of his mouth: "I don't think that will be difficult either."

Arrogant!

Too arrogant!

But Gu Jin had the capital for his arrogance.

"I'm waiting for you to shut me out." Maki Shinichi's eyes were as sharp as knives, "At the same time, if I get the chance, I will shut you out too."

"Shut me out? Maki Shinichi, do you have that ability?" Gu Jin's voice carried undisguised arrogance, "The spirit of competition is to give it your all.

If you truly have that ability, I'm actually quite looking forward to whether you can—as you said today—personally destroy me."

When his words fell, there was a momentary silence in the gymnasium, followed by even louder discussions.

The spectators who had just thought Gu Jin was "too much" now felt their blood boil—compared to "showing mercy," this kind of tit-for-tat, head-on confrontation was what basketball should be like.

And in the corner, Kiyota slowly raised his head, looking at the two men confronting each other on the court, and in his clenched fists, he had somehow, at some point, gathered a bit of strength again.

The arguments on the court hadn't completely died down when the gymnasium's broadcast suddenly sounded: "Next, Mr. Kawasaki, the Kanagawa Prefecture Sports Association's event commentator, will review this round's featured match."

When the camera cut to the guest seating area, Mr. Kawasaki was frowning at the score sheet in front of him—the words "Gu Jin 10:0 Kiyota Nobunaga" were particularly conspicuous on the sheet.

He pushed up his glasses, picked up the microphone, and his first sentence went straight to the core: "Originally, commentary only focused on event highlights, but today I must make an exception—because since the start of this Public Welfare Cup, a 10:0 shutout match has appeared for the first time."

All eyes in the venue instantly focused.

"Regarding this shutout, there has already been much discussion in the venue."

Mr. Kawasaki's voice was steady yet weighty, "Some people feel that player Gu Jin was too aggressive, but as a commentator, I must say: in competitive sports, 'giving it your all' is the most important part of athletic competition.

This has absolutely nothing to do with respect or disrespect."

He raised his hand and pointed at Gu Jin on the court: "This Ryonan rookie proved his strength with a shutout, and there is nothing wrong with that in itself.

Player Kiyota's fighting spirit is worthy of respect. Basketball competition is made up of many elements, but it definitely does not include 'sympathy'.

'Pushing to the limit'—that is the greatest respect for an opponent."

"The reason the shutout caused controversy is because it is too 'glaring'." Mr. Kawasaki looked at the audience, "But it is precisely this glaringness that allows everyone to remember: if you want to win, you must accept the possibility of 'losing completely'; if you want to become stronger, you must first learn to face this gap."

Mr. Kawasaki's commentary had just ended, and the applause from the guest seating area hadn't stopped, when Takato Riki, on the Public Welfare Cup's invited coach's bench, had already put down his thermos.

He glanced at Kiyota, who was still panting, then looked at Gu Jin on the court, his voice not loud but clearly reaching those around him: "Mr. Kawasaki's commentary is reasonable; competitive sports should indeed be played with full effort."

These words quieted the Hainan Team players a bit; even Kiyota looked up.

But Takato Riki's tone shifted, and he tapped his fingertip lightly on the tactics board: "However, I cannot agree with the 'reasonableness' of a 'shutout'.

Moreover, not adopting a substitution system is inherently unreasonable.

Basketball is a team sport; a one-on-one match is not a regular game and cannot fully illustrate the issue.

No matter how strong a single player is, real basketball games still depend on the team.

Furthermore, I personally believe that in competitive sports, one should strive for victory but also leave room for maneuver—especially for rookies.

Blocking their path completely is not necessarily a good thing."

As soon as these words fell, a scoff immediately came from the coach's bench.

Taoka Moichi was directly facing Takato Riki: "Takato, I don't like what you're saying!"

All eyes in the venue were instantly drawn over.

"What do you mean by 'leave room for maneuver'?" Taoka stood with his hands on his hips, his voice three decibels louder than Takato Riki's, "When Kiyota boasted before the game that he would beat Gu Jin 10:0, why didn't you say 'leave room for maneuver'?

Now that he lost in a shutout, it's 'blocking his path completely'?"

He pointed at the scoreboard on the court: "This 10:0 was scored by Gu Jin point by point; it wasn't stolen!

Takato, you've been coaching for so many years, don't you know that 'losing clearly' helps people grow more than 'winning vaguely'?

If Kiyota can't even handle this small setback, how can he possibly grow in the future?"

Takato Riki frowned: "I'm not saying Gu Jin was wrong, I just think..."

"You just think your own player losing is embarrassing!" Taoka directly interrupted him, his tone even more aggressive, "How many 'I just thinks' are there on the court?

If you're not strong enough, practice; if you lose, admit it!

Gu Jin's shutout today is to wake people up, not to block their path—it's certainly better than some people who lose and then look for excuses about 'not leaving room for maneuver'!"

Taoka Moichi was incredibly pleased today; he had been suppressed by Hainan for so many years and had long been unhappy!

He turned to look at Gu Jin, his voice full of power: "Gu Jin did the right thing! If you have the strength, you should win all the way; don't be like those overly cautious people!

Remember—if you're not spirited, are you still a young person?"

Gu Jin's hand, which had just finished wiping sweat, paused, and he nodded at Taoka.

Ryonan's bench immediately erupted in cheers, and even some spectators joined in the applause.

Takato Riki looked at Taoka's unyielding demeanor and finally just sighed, giving Kiyota Nobunaga a look—the meaning was clear: don't be affected, go back and practice more.

And Kiyota, upon hearing "if you lose, admit it," suddenly clenched his fists.

He looked up at Coach Takato, then at the spirited Taoka opposite him, and suddenly felt that the anger that had been stuck in his heart seemed to have dissipated quite a bit with Taoka's roar—losing is losing; making excuses is truly shameful.

Mr. Kawasaki in the guest seating area watched this scene, smiling and shaking his head, adding another note to his score sheet: "The tension on the coach's bench is even more exciting than the game itself—this is how Kanagawa basketball should be."