The clamor inside the gymnasium was clutched by an invisible hand, every gaze fixed on the center of the court.

When Sendoh Akira held the ball again, a clear shout suddenly came from the sidelines, piercing through layers of sound and accurately reaching both their ears.

"Sendoh Akira! Left side! That's his weakest defensive point, pay attention to the rhythm of his Kashgar Step, he can't guard it!"

It was Gu Jin's voice.

He stood at the very front of the Ryonan players' side, leaning slightly forward, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's.

During the past few offensive and defensive plays, others saw the two aces as evenly matched, but he precisely captured Maki Shinichi's subtle defensive tendency—every time Sendoh Akira tried to break through from the left, Maki Shinichi's center of gravity would always be half a beat slower than on the right, an instinctive flaw left by his long-term habit of defending the right side.

Takato Riki's hand, holding a thermos, suddenly paused, the lid clinking against the body of the cup.

He abruptly turned to look at Gu Jin, a crack finally appearing in the composure in his eyes.

In just three encounters, this young man, who had only just started to make a name for himself in the prefecture, could actually see through A Mu's defensive weak side?

One must know that even Hainan's assistant coach had to follow A Mu for two years to figure out this hidden habit.

These eyes were simply terrifying, not like a high school student's.

On the court, Sendoh Akira's gaze suddenly sharpened.

Gu Jin's reminder was like a key, instantly flipping a switch in his mind.

He recalled Gu Jin's repeated emphasis on the "Kash Step change of direction" last night, he remembered the detailed footwork he had rehearsed countless times in his mind, and a faint smile suddenly curled at the corner of his mouth.

The dribbling rhythm suddenly quickened.

The basketball bounced more and more rapidly on Sendoh Akira's fingertips, like drumbeats before a storm.

He first made a swift crossover, feigning a drive to the right, and Maki Shinichi's center of gravity indeed shifted forward, his arms sealing off the right side like an iron gate.

Just at this critical moment, Sendoh Akira's wrist suddenly flicked, and the basketball arced smoothly behind him, switching to his left hand.

At the same time, his left toe sharply dug into the ground, and his knee buckled inward at a tricky angle—it was the "Kash Step" Gu Jin had mentioned!

This step was as swift as a phantom, as if instantly shortening the distance to the hoop.

Maki Shinichi's pupils contracted sharply; by the time he tried to adjust his center of gravity, it was too late—Sendoh Akira's left shoulder almost grazed his armpit as he slipped through, his entire body moving like a fish into the left side of the restricted area.

"Now!"

The moment Sendoh Akira took off, his right hand firmly caught the ball that had come from behind, his body stretching slightly in mid-air, avoiding Maki Shinichi's block from behind.

With a light flick of his fingertips, the basketball, with a soft spin, silently dropped into the net.

"Swish—"

The crisp sound of the ball swishing through the net was like scissors cutting through the dead silence in the arena.

The scoreboard flickered, 1:0.

The Ryonan bench instantly erupted, Taoka Moichi slammed his sports drink onto the ground, his roar making people's eardrums ache: "Great shot! Sendoh Akira! That's it!"

As Sendoh Akira landed, he deliberately looked back and raised his chin in Gu Jin's direction, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

On the offensive-defensive switch, Maki Shinichi held the ball with slightly more force.

He stared at Sendoh Akira, and for the first time, a real fire ignited in his eyes. That last shot felt like a cut on his proud heart.

He dribbled straight to the basket, his left shoulder dropping, crashing into Sendoh Akira with immense force—this was his most Good at's overwhelming drive, which ordinary guards simply couldn't withstand.

But Sendoh Akira seemed to have nails hammered into his feet.

He slightly parted his legs, his core muscles suddenly tensing, and his arms wrapped tightly around Maki Shinichi's waist, effectively neutralizing most of the impact's force.

Even more terrifying was that his footwork maintained an uncanny rhythm; no matter what angle Maki Shinichi tried to penetrate from, he could always block the path immediately.

The area from the free-throw line to the restricted area seemed to be suddenly enveloped by an invisible barrier.

Maki Shinichi continuously changed direction, stopped abruptly, turned, and even used a step-back that could almost shake off the entire Shohoku team, but Sendoh Akira's defense was like an impenetrable net.

His arms always appeared in the most crucial positions, his footwork always anticipated the direction of the next breakthrough, and even his breathing rhythm perfectly offset Maki Shinichi's offensive frequency.

This area became Sendoh Akira's absolute domain.

Maki Shinichi's shot missed again, and the basketball was firmly secured by Sendoh Akira.

Offense and defense switched, Sendoh Akira repeated the tactic.

Again, he cut in from the left, Kash Step followed by a step-back jump shot, and the basketball swished through the net again. 2:0.

In the next round, Maki Shinichi tried to break through the defense with speed, but Sendoh Akira made a precise steal.

Fast break layup, 3:0.

Takato Riki's face on the sidelines completely darkened, his knuckles turning white.

He looked at Sendoh Akira, who was controlling the entire game like an Emperor near the free-throw line, then glanced at the composed Gu Jin off the court, and for the first time, a chill rose in his heart.

This Ryonan, it really seemed different now.

Maki Shinichi bent over, supporting his knees, sweat dripping down his jawline, splattering on the floor and spreading into a small dark patch.

He looked up at Sendoh Akira, who was wiping sweat nearby, his eyes no longer holding contempt, only the grave seriousness of facing a formidable enemy.

He finally understood that the earlier 0:0 was not a stalemate, but Sendoh Akira measuring the battlefield.

Now, Sendoh Akira's hunting time had begun.

Sweat trickled down Maki Shinichi's forehead, dripping onto the floor with a faint sound, yet in this arena drowned by Ryonan's cheers, it felt like a heavy hammer striking his heart.

He stared at the glaring 3:0 on the scoreboard, his knuckles white from gripping tightly.

His chest heaved violently, the scene of Sendoh Akira stealing the ball replaying repeatedly in his mind—that precise anticipation, that lateral movement speed almost synchronized with his own, clearly the signature move belonging to him, the "Kanagawa Emperor," yet now being used to perfection by a second-year student.

"Damn it..." Maki Shinichi cursed under his breath, a barely perceptible grinding of teeth in his voice.

Since his debut, he had never been so thoroughly suppressed in a one-on-one match.

From junior high to high school, he was accustomed to controlling the entire court with overwhelming strength and rhythm, accustomed to opponents showing reverence or despair in front of him, accustomed to the absolute confidence behind Coach Takato's phrase, "Hainan's name does not tolerate provocation."

But now, the name Sendoh Akira, like a sharp thorn, had pricked all his assumptions.

That guy, who always wore a nonchalant smile, now stood near the free-throw line, his figure exceptionally tall in the light.

He didn't even celebrate deliberately, just casually dribbling the ball, the composure in his eyes as if saying, "This is normal"—this understated ease suffocated Maki Shinichi more than any provocation.

Was he really going to be pulled down from his pedestal by this second-year...?

The thought had barely surfaced before he fiercely suppressed it.

He clenched his fists abruptly, his knuckles making a soft "crack" sound, and his entire body's muscles tensed again, like an enraged lion.

"It's not over yet," Maki Shinichi looked up, his gaze like lightning shooting towards Sendoh Akira, a deep voice rumbling from his throat, "This is just the beginning."

The moment he held the ball, the aura around him suddenly changed.

No longer the steady controller, but a beast poised to strike, each dribble carrying the ferocity of a do-or-die situation.

Takato Riki on the sidelines suddenly sat up straight, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes—this was the state A Mu would only show when pushed to the brink, the "Emperor" who could tear through any defense, was finally truly getting angry.

Sendoh Akira looked at Maki Shinichi, who was like a different person before him, and the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened slightly.

He bent his knees slightly, spread his arms, and an equally fervent fire ignited in his eyes.

Come on.

Let me see how many trump cards the Emperor of Kanagawa still has.

The air in the gymnasium seemed to ignite, sound waves surged beneath the dome, and even the light seemed to collide violently between the two. This ace battle was finally entering its most intense phase.