"Amazing!" Mike Okita smiled.

Maki Shinichi seemed a little confused!

What is this kid grinning about?

Mike Okita's eyes changed; this time his attack came very quickly.

As he dribbled forward, he suddenly executed a behind-the-back dribble, immediately followed by an accelerated breakthrough and a jump. Maki Shinichi jumped to intercept, and the two collided in the air.

Okita, while airborne, twisted his body, holding the ball in his right hand and passing it under Maki Shinichi's armpit, completing an incredible reverse layup.

The basketball spun three times on the rim before finally dropping into the net with a "clunk."

"Defensive foul, basket counts!" The referee's whistle followed immediately, and he pointed at Maki Shinichi—when he jumped, Maki Shinichi's arm had a clear downward motion.

4:4!

The stands instantly erupted, cheers almost tearing off the roof. The commentator, gripping the microphone, shouted, "Oh my god! This reverse layup defies the laws of physics! Mike Okita drew a strange arc with his body in the air, it's so extreme!"

Maki Shinichi's chest rose and fell slightly as he landed. He didn't look at Mike Okita, just stared at the floor—the foul call made his brow furrow even tighter.

It was Maki Shinichi's turn to attack, and his movements carried a clear hint of anger.

The force of his dribble intensified, the basketball hitting the floor with dull "thump-thump" sounds, as if venting his emotions.

He lowered his shoulder and charged, attempting to overpower his opponent, but Okita didn't meet him head-on this time. Instead, he slid half a step to the side like a loach, while simultaneously flashing his right hand out like lightning.

"Slap!"

With a crisp sound, Okita's fingertips accurately poked the side of the basketball, instantly disrupting Maki Shinichi's dribbling rhythm!

Steal!

Okita snatched the ball and sprinted towards the basket, moving as fast as a bullet leaving a gun.

Maki Shinichi gritted his teeth and chased back, and with his astonishing explosive power, he actually caught up.

At this moment, Mike Okita was already jumping from the free-throw line, and Maki Shinichi jumped at the same time.

This time, he didn't choose a reverse layup. Instead, facing the defending Maki Shinichi, he gripped the ball tightly in his hand, his body stretching into a reverse bow in the air.

"Bang!"

With a deafening roar, Mike Okita actually completed a powerful dunk over Maki Shinichi!

The rim shook violently, and the net rattled.

The two landed almost simultaneously. Maki Shinichi, having been hit, staggered back two steps before regaining his balance.

The referee's whistle sounded again: "Defensive foul, basket counts!"

5:4!

Okita shook his wrist as he landed, a wild smile on his face.

Meanwhile, the referee walked up to Maki Shinichi, his expression serious: "Your defensive movement just now was overly aggressive, with a tendency to elbow. This is a warning."

He paused, then emphasized, "In a 1v1 match, if a similar foul occurs again, you will immediately lose possession of the ball. Understand?"

Maki Shinichi took a deep breath, nodded, but his eyes grew even darker.

He wiped the sweat from his face and looked at Mike Okita, his gaze now burning with an unquestionable fighting spirit—he had to win this showdown!

With the whistle, possession returned to Maki Shinichi.

He gripped the basketball, his knuckles white from the force. That poster dunk just now was like a thorn in his heart—in the Kanagawa arena, no one had ever dared to do that to him.

His dribbling rhythm was faster than before, each pound carrying suppressed rage.

He executed three consecutive crossover dribbles, deliberately swinging his shoulders with a wide motion, trying to use brute force to break through the defense.

But Okita seemed to anticipate his route, always maintaining a half-step distance, his long arms shadowing him, his fingertips almost touching the ball's surface.

Just as Maki Shinichi lowered his shoulder, preparing for a third strong drive, Okita suddenly moved.

He didn't block the driving lane. Instead, he lightly tapped his foot, his body darting forward like a ghost, his right hand flashing like lightning through the gap in Maki Shinichi's dribble, his fingertips accurately tapping the side of the basketball.

"Slap!" Another crisp sound!

The ball slipped from his grasp and rolled towards the sideline.

Okita reacted even faster, lunging to snatch the ball and immediately turning to charge towards the basket.

This time, Maki Shinichi's chase-back was half a beat slower—the continuous high-intensity confrontation had disrupted his breathing, and his footwork wasn't as quick as before.

Okita drove into the paint with the ball, without the slightest hesitation, and jumped again, facing the defending Maki Shinichi.

This time, he didn't choose a dunk. Instead, he paused slightly in the air, and when Maki Shinichi's block attempt had peaked, he deftly pushed the ball off the backboard with his right hand.

"Swish!" The basketball grazed the inside of the backboard and dropped into the net, clean and precise.

6:4!

Okita landed steadily, turned his head to look at Maki Shinichi, a hint of provocation added to the smile on his lips.

Two consecutive steals for scores had completely ignited his momentum, and his entire body's muscles showed excited tension.

Maki Shinichi stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving violently, sweat dripping in streams down his jawline.

He stared at the rolling basketball on the floor, his eyes so dark they seemed to drip ink—this was the first time he had been so continuously suppressed in a 1v1, and that familiar sense of control was slowly slipping away.

This Mike Okita was unlike any opponent he had faced before.

Even against Morohoshi Dai, who was adept at both offense and defense, he had always been at ease, effortlessly controlling the situation;

Even Sannoh Industrial's Sawakita Eiji, or Hakata Shodai High School's Hiroaki Yokota, had never pushed him to such a desperate state.

Even against such masters, Maki Shinichi had never been truly defeated.

After all, Morohoshi Dai's strength was more about balance; without the sharpest tools, he was not to be feared!

And while Sawakita Eiji had an unanswerable one-on-one game, he still couldn't escape the shackles of strength.

Yokota's characteristic was his calm overall view—but Maki Shinichi could also control the entire game!

But the Mike Okita before him was like a double-edged sword tempered by fire, possessing both the precise shooting honed by the American high school system and the wild steals and incredible offensive routes of street basketball.

This blend of strength and finesse precisely struck Maki Shinichi's defensive blind spot, accustomed as he was to tough physical confrontation.

Moreover, Maki Shinichi had a feeling that Mike Okita's true strength was far greater than what he was showing!

Gu Jin at the sideline frowned slightly. He could see that Maki Shinichi's movements were starting to become distorted; anger was making him lose his usual calm.

Mike Okita, on the other hand, was like a leopard that had found its rhythm, every offensive and defensive play executed with precise calculation, clearly having fully entered his own rhythm.

"It seems the Emperor is truly in trouble this time," the commentator's voice was filled with awe. "Mike Okita has proven with his consecutive steals that not only can he tear through defenses on offense, but his defensive anticipation is equally terrifying!"

The stands were already a buzzing cauldron of activity, discussions surging like a tide.

"A Mu... is he going to lose?" Kiyota Nobunaga clenched his fists, fine sweat beading on his forehead, his voice filled with disbelief.

He had never seen Maki Shinichi so utterly suppressed, the consecutive steals and the widening score gap pricking at his heart like needles.

Beside him, Takato Riki remained largely unperturbed, his eagle-sharp eyes observing the situation on the court.

Hearing Kiyota's words, he slowly spoke, his voice as steady as a stone: "This Mike Okita certainly caught A Mu off guard! However, A Mu will not lose."

He paused, his gaze fixed on the 184-centimeter figure on the court, "These challenges will only make him stronger. The more he is pushed to the brink, the more he will reveal his true fangs."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Maki Shinichi on the court happened to look up, and in his previously gloomy eyes, a terrifying spark suddenly flashed.