Chapter 383: The Regicide Alliance (1)
“You can forget about that.”
Mike Budenholzer looked at Chen Yilun and spoke with a smile.
“Udoka is the last person the old man personally groomed. If he’s willing to let him go, it’ll only be because another team has offered him a head coaching job. Otherwise, Udoka won’t come out on his own.”
“Not even your Kings would change that.”
Chen Yilun was inclined to believe Budenholzer.
As one of the most prominent figures to come out of the Spurs system, Budenholzer was widely regarded as the man most similar to Popovich. If he said so, then it was almost certainly true.
“What a shame. I really do miss working with Ime.”
Hearing that, Budenholzer burst out laughing and teased him.
“You’ve got some nerve saying that.”
“When you were in San Antonio, I didn’t even like bringing it up. You were an assistant coach in name, sure—but your day-to-day work had almost nothing to do with coaching. You were basically an assistant general manager wearing an assistant coach’s badge.”
Budenholzer’s words exposed a small but telling detail about Chen Yilun.
Although Chen Yilun had entered the league under Popovich as an assistant coach, he wasn’t truly Popovich’s direct protégé. In reality, he was cultivated by Buford.
There was a bit of history behind that.
When Chen Yilun first joined the Spurs, he did start out as an assistant coach. But not long after, Buford took notice of him and wanted to bring him into the management side to personally train him.
Popovich, however, wasn’t keen on letting Chen Yilun drift completely away.
What outsiders referred to as the “Spurs system” actually consisted of two internal tracks. One revolved around Popovich and the coaching staff, while the other centered on Buford and the front office.
Because of the close working relationship between Popovich and Buford, the two sides generally got along well in day-to-day operations.
That said, people trained under Buford weren’t considered the core of the Spurs coaching circle, and their influence around the league was more limited. Before this, the only truly notable name Chen Yilun could point to was Thunder general manager Sam Presti.
Don’t be fooled by Presti’s reputation as one of the league’s top executives—within the Spurs circle, he couldn’t openly lean on old connections the way Chen Yilun could.
Presti had never worked under Popovich as an assistant coach, so strictly speaking, he and Budenholzer didn’t share the same background.
Chen Yilun was different. Even though most of his later development happened under Buford, his official status had always been that of a Spurs assistant coach. That was why he could speak to Budenholzer on equal footing.
“Why bring that up?”
Chen Yilun shifted awkwardly in his seat.
“Let’s not talk about that kind of stuff. It hurts unity.”
“You little punk.”
Budenholzer shook his head with a wry smile.
“I honestly don’t know whether it was a blessing or a curse for the Spurs system to have someone like you come out of it.”
“Let’s drop it.”
Budenholzer turned his eyes back to the court and muttered,
“So are you really planning to sit tight and do nothing this season?”
“What’s there to do?”
Chen Yilun stretched lazily.
“The team chemistry is already where it needs to be. Every position is solid. Why mess things up and add uncertainty for no reason?”
“Let me give you a warning.”
Budenholzer glanced around, then lowered his voice.
“The league office has a pretty ambiguous attitude toward you right now. Adam Silver probably won’t make a move this year, but next season is a different story. The league won’t just sit back and let you dominate forever.”
“That’s not something you need to worry about.”
Chen Yilun smiled faintly, repeating what he had already told Buford.
“I’ll leave the league some room to maneuver.”
As expected, Budenholzer sucked in a sharp breath when he heard that.
“You really are ruthless when it counts. That takes guts.”
“But don’t celebrate too early.”
After a brief pause, Budenholzer continued,
“Don’t assume this season is already locked up. According to my intel, some teams are already forming alliances in the shadows, all with one goal—targeting your Kings.”
“Oh?”
Chen Yilun tilted his head, finally intrigued.
“Alliances? What do you mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Budenholzer shrugged.
“Your team’s momentum is overwhelming right now. You’re suppressing everyone else in the league, and they’re not going to accept being your stepping stones.”
“Especially if you win the title again this year. That would make you a full-fledged dynasty. In the history books, everyone else would just be background decoration.”
With just a few sentences, Budenholzer laid out the league’s tangled power dynamics for Chen Yilun.
If the Kings captured another championship this year, Durant would firmly enter the discussion of the greatest players in league history.
There were already whispers around the league, calling Durant and Butler the new Jordan and Pippen of this era.
Under those circumstances, the other superstars had begun banding together in self-preservation.
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“Alright, let’s hear it.”
Inside the presidential suite of a luxury hotel in Charlotte, James sat at the head of the room and looked around at the gathered players.
“What am I supposed to say? You’re the one who called us here.”
Harden, seated off to the side, replied absentmindedly while scrolling on his phone.
James didn’t respond to the jab and continued calmly.
“At our level, this league isn’t just about making a living anymore. Everyone here wants to leave their mark on history. Are you really willing to become nothing more than supporting characters for his Kings?”
“So what are you proposing?”
Curry frowned slightly, clearly puzzled.
“Stop the Kings. We absolutely cannot let them three-peat.”
James stood up as he spoke.
“Everyone here is among the league’s top stars, so I won’t dance around it. I don’t care who wins this year—as long as it’s not the Kings. Otherwise, everything we’ve fought for over the years is going to be overshadowed.”
“Bro, what exactly is James getting at?”
From the corner of the room, Mitchell leaned over and whispered.
“Don’t ask. Just watch—and keep your mouth shut.”
Lillard sat calmly behind his sunglasses, his expression unreadable. Only a faint trace of disdain crept out from the corners of his eyes beneath the lenses.
This so-called GOAT contender had finally lost his composure.
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