Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Divine Archer Zhao Zhongshi

After both teams’ players and coaches gathered in their respective circles and shouted “Victory!”, the match began.

In the previous game against Qingshui No. 1 High School, Lingnan High had not contested the opening jump ball, yet they ultimately won. So this time, they only symbolically sent someone to jump, and the ball was easily tipped to Lin Nan by Jiu Wu.

The entire Lingnan High team fell back on defense as Lin Nan brought the ball past half-court. All eyes in the arena were fixed on him, waiting to see how he would orchestrate this first offense. But then, Lin Nan passed the ball to Zhao Zhongshi.

Everyone except the Qingshui No. 1 team was confused: Who is this guy?

Only Lin Nan and his teammates wore sly, amused smiles.

Zhao Zhongshi caught the ball, dribbled twice, and moved it to the left, right into the defensive zone of Lingnan High’s captain, Luo Zhan.

Seeing this unknown player charging straight at him, Luo Zhan felt underestimated. “If I can’t stop Lin Nan, surely I can deal with you?” he thought. “Actually, maybe I can even stop Lin Nan now.”

But Zhao Zhongshi didn’t care what Luo Zhan was thinking. For him, breaking through from any side was the same, though he did favor the left.

So everyone watched as Zhao Zhongshi accelerated, driving straight to the baseline from the left. Luo Zhan immediately closed in, arms wide, playing tight defense. Yet, in the next instant, he saw Zhao Zhongshi, right as he was driving, suddenly hook the ball with his left hand toward the basket.

What was this?

Luo Zhan didn’t react in time. But a second later, he caught the distinct sound of the ball banking off the backboard and dropping through the net, along with the collective gasp from the crowd.

The shot was in!

Luo Zhan didn’t turn around, but he knew what had happened. His mind was still buzzing.

Commentator Lu Ming paused in surprise, then quickly remarked, “It seems Zhao Zhongshi of Qingshui No. 1 is full of confidence, opening the game with a high-difficulty hook shot.”

Besides confidence, Lu Ming didn’t know how else to explain that shot.

The audience nodded in agreement with his analysis. The Qingshui No. 1 players laughed when they heard it, thinking to themselves: There’s even more “confidence” to come.

Only Zhao Zhongshi remained as calm and composed as ever.

Next, it was Lingnan High’s turn to attack. Luo Zhan brought up the ball, both teams starting with a zone defense to conserve energy early on.

Luo Zhan decided not to attack from Lin Nan’s side. Although he was much taller than Lin Nan, he knew Lin Nan was extremely quick—he was a little afraid of being stolen from. So, he opted to pick on the weaker target, going after Screw, who was slightly shorter and much “softer” physically.

Screw saw Luo Zhan coming and met him head-on, eager to test the results of his recent training.

After some physical contact, Luo Zhan found that Screw’s body had toughened up a lot in just over a month. Still a bit weaker than himself, but compared to before, he was like a different person!

Screw also realized the physical gap between them had narrowed considerably.

It seemed all those extra hours of practice, morning and night, had paid off. Screw thought to himself, grateful for the herbal ointment Lin Nan had provided, which allowed them to train without restraint.

Unknowingly, Screw’s mentality had changed—perhaps even he hadn’t noticed. In his mind, diligent training had become second nature for a player; he didn’t credit his progress to the extra practice, but rather to the herbal ointment. This, truly, was the mindset a basketball player ought to have.

Luo Zhan, of course, had no idea the opponent before him had undergone such a transformation since their last encounter. All he knew was that, unexpectedly, he felt a bit of pressure from this once-unknown player.

In the end, Luo Zhan passed the ball out to the perimeter.

Seeing this, commentator Lu Ming frowned slightly, but said nothing.

The shot clock was running out; the Lingnan High player who received the ball had no choice but to launch a hurried three-pointer. Unsurprisingly, it missed.

Jiu Wu grabbed the rebound and quickly passed it to Lin Nan.

Lin Nan once again brought the ball past half-court, then handed it off to Zhao Zhongshi.

The same play unfolded: Zhao Zhongshi chose the left side, drove in, and went for the hook shot mid-stride.

The ball went in again!

It was executed with remarkable fluidity and decisiveness, as if this move was his signature weapon on the court—like Jordan’s fadeaway or McGrady’s pull-up jumper.

At that moment, a voice rose from the crowd of old basketball fans: “Sky Hook, like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar?”

Lu Ming heard this and softly replied, “No, this is the Divine Hook of Zhao Zhongshi.”

Lu Ming knew Kareem’s sky hook, but he could vouch for it: Kareem’s was never as miraculous, nor as difficult, as Zhao Zhongshi’s.

Kareem relied on his extraordinary height and wingspan, rising in the paint and using wrist strength to hook the ball, earning him a twenty-year career with only five blocked shots.

But Zhao Zhongshi was different. His hook came on the move, more like a windmill, spinning the ball off the glass. Such a shot would be considered pure luck on a street court.

Yet, watching Zhao Zhongshi’s honest, unremarkable face—no long arms, no impressive jumping ability, just a middling 183 centimeters—Lu Ming realized that those two hook shots had the feel of countless repetitions behind them.

He understood now: Zhao Zhongshi’s consecutive baskets were not a matter of luck, but of true skill.

That was why, after bringing the ball past half-court, Lin Nan decisively handed the offense to him—because Zhao Zhongshi’s divine hook, for now, seemed unstoppable.

But the Lingnan High coach didn’t realize this yet. He still chalked up those two hook shots to “luck.”

It wasn’t until, after several back-and-forth possessions, Lingnan High had mixed results, while every Qingshui No. 1 basket came from Zhao Zhongshi’s flawless hook shot, that, at the end of the first quarter, with Qingshui No. 1 leading by eight, everyone understood: this was the Hook Shot Prince!

The arena buzzed with excited conversations.

Some said, “Lin Nan hasn’t even taken a shot, and Lingnan High is already struggling. Looks like Qingshui No. 1 has this one in the bag.”

Others said, “This Zhao Zhongshi’s hook shot is way better than the old guys at our park!”

Still others said, “I’m a fan of Zhao Zhongshi now. In my eyes, he’s even stronger than Lin Nan—his hook shot really is unstoppable!”

Some said, “I’m a fan of Qingshui No. 1. I think they’re the national champions of this year’s league!”

Others had already drafted headlines for the web: “Qingshui No. 1—Hidden Dragons and Crouching Tigers; Two Masters Reign Supreme,” ready to post as soon as the game ended.

On the bench, the Lingnan High players huddled together, looking a bit at a loss. Lin Nan was already a handful—now there was an even more unsolvable Zhao Zhongshi. How were they supposed to play this game?

The Lingnan High coach, a man in his forties named Li Changlin, was facing his second major challenge of this tournament—the first had been Lin Nan.

But last time, Qingshui No. 1’s overall strength was weak, and they still managed to win.

This time was different, with Zhao Zhongshi added to the mix. More crucially, Li Changlin sensed that not just Lin Nan and Zhao Zhongshi, but even the rest of Qingshui No. 1 had improved significantly since last time.

He’d noticed it during Luo Zhan’s first physical battle with Screw, and he knew the other players had felt it too by the end of the first quarter.

Still, he said nothing, and neither did his players.

The pressing issue now was to find a way to stop Zhao Zhongshi.

Li Changlin analyzed: to counter this kind of hook shot, there were two solutions. One was height—either superlative leaping ability or absolute height—to block him at the point of release. The other was speed—having a very nimble smaller player rush him so he couldn’t get off a clean shot.

Obviously, Lingnan High didn’t have that kind of speedy, small defender; their recruitment focused on height.

So only the first option remained. After the first quarter, Li Changlin realized that even their tallest wing, Luo Zhan at 188 cm, couldn’t stop Zhao Zhongshi.

That left only Lü Xiang at 194 cm or Yao Ke at 190 cm to try and guard him.

Once the tactical adjustment was made and instructions given, Li Changlin sat down and checked the team introduction for Qingshui No. 1 on his phone.

He was baffled—how could a remote school have so many basketball prospects? Besides Lin Nan and Zhao Zhongshi, there was Jiu Wu, and apparently he was just a freshman. Meanwhile, their own players over 190 cm were all seniors.

What a headache!

On the Qingshui No. 1 bench, Coach Gorilla had already guessed the opponent’s countermeasure.

He asked, “Zhao Zhongshi, do you think that Yao Ke, the 192 cm player, can defend your hook shot?”

Zhao Zhongshi considered the man’s wingspan for a moment, then replied, “If his jumping isn’t exceptional, he probably can’t block my hook.”

Coach Gorilla grinned confidently, “That makes things much easier. If he can’t stop you, then they’ll have to send in Lü Xiang at 194 to guard you, leaving only Yao Ke inside.”

“Jiu Wu, you’ll be fine, right?”

Jiu Wu nodded. In fact, he had very long arms, and compared to the two over-190-cm opponents, his physical advantages were significant. Previously, his slender frame had been a fatal weakness, masking his innate physical gifts.

But after a month of intense training and gorging himself at every meal in the school cafeteria, his body was no longer frail.

Jiu Wu had finally grown into a true center for the team.

At last, he could contribute. Jiu Wu smiled with pure delight.