Chapter 223: Here We Come!
“What did you just say?!”
LeBron James sat in the conference room, his eyes wide as saucers.
“Boston’s getting the first overall pick?”
Coach Lue beside him gave a wry smile and nodded.
“It’s the legacy of history. Nothing we can do about that.”
Once Lue confirmed the news, LeBron’s mood plummeted.
The Cavaliers were up 2–1 against the Celtics in the Eastern Conference Finals.
Barring any surprises, LeBron was confident they could close the series in five games.
Getting out of the East didn’t seem too difficult.
But the thought of who they’d face in the Finals… that still made him uneasy.
He’d watched the recent game himself—he knew exactly how strong the Warriors were.
And even that mighty team had just been swept 3–0.
That alone said everything about how terrifyingly strong the Kings were this season.
“Worrying about the offseason or the future won’t help us now.”
Coach Lue tapped the table lightly, drawing everyone’s attention.
Though his odd expressions and eccentric antics often made him a running joke on highlight reels,
no one could deny that when it came to defining a team’s identity and keeping everyone united, Lue had his own special way.
That was exactly why he always had a spot among the league’s head coaches.
“What matters most right now is focusing on the present. Winning the championship this year—that’s the goal.”
“If nothing unexpected happens, our Finals opponent will be Sacramento. They’re a new rival for us. Any thoughts?”
Lue glanced around the room.
“Let me handle Kevin,” LeBron said after thinking for a moment.
“From what I’ve seen, Durant’s their only real go-to option when things get tight.”
As the unquestioned leader of the team, LeBron didn’t hesitate to take on the toughest task.
Deep down, though, he knew the smarter move would’ve been to have someone help with the defense—or even switch off entirely—
so he could conserve energy for offense and playmaking.
But there wasn’t a single wing player on the roster who could absorb Durant’s impact.
He’d have to take that responsibility himself.
The truth was, the Cavaliers weren’t all that confident about facing the Kings.
They’d never met them in the playoffs, and even in the regular season, Sacramento had beaten them more often than not.
“Didn’t see this coming,” Kevin Love said with a sigh.
“The media hyped up Cavs vs. Warriors for years, and it only lasted two seasons.”
The Kings’ rise had been beyond anyone’s imagination.
Just three years ago, they were a bottom-feeder in the West.
But under Chen Yilun’s patchwork rebuilding, they’d climbed step by step until they became one of the league’s true powerhouses.
“Why can’t I get a team president like that?” LeBron muttered under his breath, half-complaining.
Iman Shumpert, sitting beside him, turned his head and stared at him like he’d just heard an alien speak.
Did you seriously just say that, bro?!
Sure, the Cavs 1.0 era wasn’t great—but then came the Miami Big Three,
and now the Cavs 2.0 Big Three.
Every single superteam had been built around you!
Man, that’s like eating the meal and then cursing the chef!
But there was no point in dwelling on that now.
“What we need to focus on in the Finals is Jokić’s passing game,” Lue said, ignoring the chatter as he opened a PowerPoint presentation.
“According to the analytics team, the Kings’ main offensive system revolves around Jokić as the focal point of their ball movement.”
“That means heavy responsibility for Love and Thompson. You two need to cut off Jokić’s connection with the perimeter.”
At that, Lue rubbed his temples in frustration.
With Jokić on the floor, the Kings were incredibly dangerous.
A big man who could shoot, set perfect screens, and act as a high-post playmaker—aside from his defense and limited mobility, the guy had no real weaknesses.
He made every offensive scheme look simple.
“Kyrie, what do you think?” Lue asked, noticing Irving sitting in the corner, silent and staring off into space.
“We’ll figure it out when the time comes.”
Kyrie’s tone was calm, detached—as usual.
...
“Curry from deep—last shot! No good!”
As Curry’s desperate long-range three clanged off the rim,
the blaring sound of the final buzzer filled Golden 1 Center.
In Game 4, whether by accident or design, the Kings had collectively lost their touch, missing shot after shot and dropping the road game.
But once the series returned to Sacramento, the Kings never gave the Warriors another chance.
They dominated from start to finish, closing out the series 4–1.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Golden and purple confetti burst from every corner of the arena, raining down like a storm.
“We did it! We won!”
Kings players embraced one another in ecstatic celebration.
The entire city of Sacramento erupted in joy.
This city had been waiting far too long for this moment.
Since the franchise relocated to Sacramento, this was their first-ever trip to the Finals.
Chen Yilun stood quietly on the sidelines, letting the confetti fall across his shoulders and hair.
He watched as the Warriors players, heads down, trudged off into the tunnel.
Coach Steve Kerr must’ve been in no mood to chat—he’d left without even saying a word.
“The O’Brien Trophy, huh?”
Chen Yilun looked up at the ceiling, where an old, faded championship banner hung alone.
“You look lonely up there.”
He smiled faintly. “How about I find you a companion?”
Boom!
A firework, delayed by a technical glitch, suddenly went off,
and another shower of confetti drifted down in front of him—
as if answering his promise.
Durant was pushed to the front to receive the Western Conference championship trophy.
Holding it in his hands, a surge of emotion flooded through him.
He’d lifted this trophy once before—back when his brothers were still by his side.
Now, with a new family beside him, he was holding it again.
And waiting for him in the Finals…
was the same man who had shattered that old family—LeBron James.
Durant could feel his fighting spirit burning inside him.
“The Finals, huh?”
He smirked.
“Here we come!”
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