Chapter 233: Reaching the Summit (3)
Facing Butler, James took a deep breath and immediately understood his opponent’s intent. A fierce fighting spirit burned in his eyes.
The gap in strength was clear, but that didn’t mean LeBron James had lost!
With that thought, James gathered his focus, ready to face Butler head-on.
It had been two years since the two last clashed in the playoffs.
In previous series, it had mostly been duels between him and Durant, with Butler playing more of a supporting role.
Let’s see what you’re really made of.
Deep down, James couldn’t help but look down on Butler a little.
Back when I was chasing down Rose and the Bulls, even your captain couldn’t beat me. And now you, Jimmy Butler, a junior back then, dare to challenge me?
While James was lost in thought, Butler suddenly exploded toward the basket.
Durant could use his perfect shooting touch and freakish height to score effortlessly from the perimeter—but Butler didn’t have those advantages.
Most of Butler’s points came from attacking the rim or hanging midair for a jumper near the free-throw line.
That scoring style might have fallen out of fashion, but Butler still trained his shot relentlessly.
Facing James’s defense, Butler showed no hesitation, forcing his way through and creating a sliver of space about seven feet away.
Just as James steadied himself to contest, Butler twisted in midair, leaning sharply backward.
He bent his body nearly forty-five degrees to the floor and released the ball with effort.
It floated over James’s head, bounced around the rim several times, and finally dropped through.
Scattered cheers rippled through the arena.
James stared at Butler, who stumbled slightly upon landing before regaining his balance.
“You won’t make many of those,” James said after a short pause.
“You’re still just as imposing,” Butler replied.
Then he turned and ran back to join his teammates on defense.
Watching the Kings players, a faint bitterness welled up in James’s chest.
What a young, united team—playing with teammates like that was the greatest joy a basketball player could ask for.
He glanced at Kyrie Irving, dribbling past half-court, full of energy.
James already knew what was on his younger brother’s mind. Ever since hitting that clutch three-pointer last year, Irving’s ambition had been impossible to suppress.
He was eager to tell a story of youthful brilliance—to prove he could lead a team on his own.
Such a cruel tale of turmoil within and challenges without.
When the Kings refocused on the game, their deficit quickly vanished and turned into a lead.
With three minutes left and the outcome all but decided, Coach Lu sent in the bench players, signaling surrender.
“Ben!”
Malone roared. “Didn’t you always want to get out there? Go on!”
Sitting at the far end of the bench, Ben froze.
A player who had almost fallen out of the rotation during the regular season… was really getting a Finals appearance?
But seeing the complex look in Coach Malone’s eyes, he instantly understood.
Unless something unexpected happened, this would be his last game with the Kings. Malone was using this moment as a farewell.
Ben didn’t feel sad. Instead, a strange excitement surged through him—like a hot-blooded character reaching the end of their own arc.
“Let’s do this!”
He clapped his hands hard and stood up.
“Get Ben a few more shots,” Malone whispered to Richardson.
“Got it,” Richardson nodded in understanding.
As the clock ticked away, Kings fans began to rise to their feet, eyes glued to the scoreboard.
Some couldn’t wait any longer and started the countdown themselves.
“10, 9, 8…”
“3, 2, 1!”
When the buzzer sounded, the Kings players burst onto the court like wild horses, celebrating madly.
...
Across the country, Sacramento was a sea of joy.
People flooded the streets, celebrating their first championship in decades.
“We are the champions!”
An elderly man with white hair walked down the street, tears streaming down his cheeks.
James slowly made his way toward the Kings’ side.
Durant, still celebrating with his teammates, spotted him and hurried over to embrace him.
The two held each other tightly at center court.
“Congratulations, Kevin. You finally proved yourself,” James whispered.
“Thanks,” Durant replied.
Countless cameras captured that moment—an image that, for years to come, would be seen as the symbol of a new era in the league.
After seeing James off, Durant turned to rejoin the celebration—but something caught his eye.
In the stands stood two familiar figures: one with a thick beard, the other with a face resembling a Ninja Turtle. Both smiled warmly at him.
“Number Two… Number Three?!”
Durant’s head spun as he recognized them—his two beloved brothers.
James Harden and Russell Westbrook!
“Congrats, man!”
Harden wore his trademark carefree grin.
“Told you you could do it!”
...
Chen Yilun felt as though ten thousand people had crashed into him at once.
When the game ended, he had been standing at the intersection of the crowd and was bounced around like a ball by the ecstatic management.
Still dazed, he stepped onto the court.
A powerful emotion swelled in his chest, ready to burst out.
This was his second championship ring. The first had come when he joined the Spurs right after crossing over.
But this one—this was different. This was a title he had built with his own hands, brick by brick.
And Chen Yilun was certain—it wouldn’t be his last.
There were still countless mountains to climb and rivals to conquer.
As he watched his teammates celebrating on the court, his mind drifted back to the Golden One Arena.
A faded championship banner hung quietly above the court.
He could almost see himself standing alone there, gazing up at it.
“I told you, didn’t I? I’d find you a companion.”
“And I always keep my word.”
Author's Note
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