Chapter 136: Hope Emerges
I really am getting old!
The moment this thought surfaced, it consumed every corner of Tim Duncan’s mind.
When did I lose even this little bit of competitiveness?
He thought back over the series. From the very start, it felt like he’d been singled out as the team’s weakness.
No, that can’t be right! Wasn’t I the one carrying this team forward? When did I become the one holding it back?
Lost in thought, Duncan fumbled Parker’s pass, and the ball rolled out of bounds.
“Timeout!”
Popovich, seeing immediately that something was wrong with Duncan, called for a stoppage.
Looking at his most trusted disciple, Popovich felt an inexplicable pang in his chest.
Nineteen years of being together day in and day out—he and Duncan had long since reached the point where a single glance was enough to communicate everything.
“Tim, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Instead of scolding him for the mistake, Popovich asked softly.
“Coach, I…”
Duncan started to answer, then remembered this was the middle of a playoff game. He swallowed his words.
“Nothing. Just a little tired. I’ll rest for a bit.”
Popovich gave him a long look but didn’t press. “Diaw, go in for Tim.”
“Got it!”
The Frenchman nodded and began to check in.
The substitution seemed routine, but one pair of eyes stayed fixed on the Spurs’ bench.
Chen Yilun watched Duncan sitting silently, deep in thought, and a cruel smile tugged at his lips.
Popovich had tried to put him in his place earlier, but the old man didn’t know Chen had already dug a pit for him, waiting for the right moment to push him in.
As a time traveler, Chen Yilun’s greatest advantage in this series was knowing the truth: the pillar holding up the Silver and Black—Tim Duncan—had already burned through his last reserves of energy.
Chen’s only task was to hasten the collapse.
Fans in the original timeline had long been puzzled: when the Spurs faced the Thunder in the semifinals, they had superior tactics and a stronger roster on paper, yet somehow, the Thunder won.
The mainstream explanation was that after acquiring Aldridge, the Spurs never adapted properly to the Double-D lineup.
To Chen Yilun, that was nonsense. If they hadn’t adapted, how did they rack up 67 wins in the regular season—the best record in franchise history?
The real issue, he believed, was that neither Aldridge nor Leonard could yet shoulder the burden of leading a team. Even though Duncan had deliberately faded into the background all season, he was still, without question, the Spurs’ true leader.
And when he was battered by the young Steven Adams in that Thunder series, Duncan finally realized he had nothing left. That’s when he decided to retire.
That was the true reason behind the Spurs’ sudden collapse.
From the very start of this series, Chen Yilun knew his team was completely outmatched in star power and playoff experience.
For them to succeed, something drastic had to happen.
That’s why, over the first three games, the Kings—under his instructions—took turns grinding down Duncan’s energy, until it all came to a head in Game 4.
“I do feel a little sorry for this, but there’s no other way.”
Chen Yilun stared at Popovich and Duncan. “This is the only path. Tim, I need you to fall today!”
The moment Duncan left the floor, the Kings’ offense clicked.
With Diaw and Aldridge a liability inside, the Jokić-Oden duo took complete control of the paint.
Jokić caught the ball down low and unleashed a dazzling series of footwork moves, leaving Diaw frozen in confusion before softly laying the ball in.
“Where did he learn that footwork?!”
Humiliated, Diaw fumed. “There’s no rhythm to it! I swear he’s just shuffling around! How am I supposed to guard that?!”
Hearing his frustration, Aldridge tilted his head, thought for a moment, and came up empty.
“Just put your hands up in the paint. Don’t jump.” After a long pause, that was all he could offer.
“You think I’m in elementary school?!” Diaw, already embarrassed, turned red. “That’s something even beginners know, and you’re telling me that?!”
“But you asked me! I thought about it, and that’s all I’ve got.” Aldridge’s voice was helpless, tinged with grievance.
Diaw was left speechless. “No wonder you get along with that dumb guy so well—you’re both masters at driving people crazy!”
Jokić’s footwork was unmatched in the league. At first glance it looked wild, almost like a streetballer’s trick, but on closer inspection, every step stayed within the rules.
When he first played this way, referees often called him for traveling. But after Coach Malone challenged several calls, they learned their lesson. Now, whenever Jokić started his moves, the baseline officials would stare only at his feet, terrified of making the wrong call.
Watching the momentum shift, Malone’s furrowed brows began to ease.
“The pace is ours now! We can win this one!” he said excitedly, seeing the Kings slowly pull away on the scoreboard.
“Not just this game.”
Chen Yilun had appeared beside him without notice.
“This series.” His eyes flicked toward the Spurs’ bench.
“Remember what I told you at the start?”
“Of course. You said if we faced the Spurs, it was 9-to-1 in their favor—and our 1 depended entirely on whether God gave us a chance.”
“Well, that chance is here.”
Chen Yilun’s voice was low, but the faint tremor gave away his excitement.
“Our shot at taking this series has arrived! Let’s seize it—we’ll use the Spurs as our stepping stone to the top!”
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