A brilliant basketball journey, a dazzling spectacle.

Chapter 160

This score ranked second in the basketball team. It was three centimeters less than the first place, but five centimeters more than the third. Someone exclaimed "Whoa!" The sound wasn't loud, but Lin Feng heard it.

Coach Li made a note in his notebook without saying anything. But as he wrote, the pen tip paused on the paper—a detail that Lin Feng noticed.

The last item was a twelve-minute run.

This is the highlight of the physical fitness test. How many meters you run in twelve minutes directly reflects your cardiopulmonary function and endurance level. The passing score for the provincial youth team is 2,800 meters.

Lin Feng stood on the starting line, along with the others.

The starting gun fired.

He didn't run fast, but his rhythm was steady. First lap, second lap, third lap—his speed hardly changed, like a wound-up pendulum, each step landing on the same beat.

By the eighth minute, some runners started to slow down. In the ninth minute, several more dropped out. By the tenth minute, less than half the runners remained.

Lin Feng was still running. His breathing was heavy, his chest felt like it was being pressed down by something, and he had to exert himself to take each breath. His legs started to ache, feeling as heavy as if they were filled with lead, but he didn't stop.

The whistle blew in the twelfth minute.

He stopped, hands on his knees, panting heavily. Sweat dripped from his chin, pooling on the ground, mixed with a faint, rusty taste of saliva—blood seeping from ruptured capillaries in his mouth.

"Two thousand nine hundred meters," the referee announced.

Coach Li walked over and glanced at him.

"Your physical fitness is okay. But your speed and explosiveness are lacking. This afternoon, we'll practice your basic skills, focusing on correcting your power generation technique."

Lin Feng nodded, panting so hard he couldn't speak.

Coach Li has left.

Gao Yuan walked over with a complex expression on his face—surprise, admiration, and a little bit of resentment.

How far did you run?

"Two thousand nine."

Gao Yuan paused for a moment. "I have two thousand eight hundred and fifty meters. Fifty meters less than you."

He patted Lin Feng on the shoulder and didn't say anything more.

Chen Hao stood not far away, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. He heard Lin Feng's score, glanced at him, adjusted his glasses, and turned to leave.

Noon, canteen.

Lin Feng's plate was piled high—rice, braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and a large bowl of pork rib soup. He was starving; the physical fitness test had taken a heavy toll, and his body felt completely drained.

Gao Yuan sat opposite him, and while eating, he suddenly put down his chopsticks.

"Lin Feng, did you really only train for three months before?"

Lin Feng nodded, chewing on braised pork.

"What did you train in before?"

"Track and field. Long jump, triple jump. I practiced those at school." Lin Feng swallowed the meat in his mouth and took a sip of soup. The soup was a bit salty, and the ribs weren't stewed very tender, but the soup was flavorful.

Gao Yuan thought for a moment. "No wonder you're so strong in the standing long jump. But your running form doesn't look like someone with a track and field background. Track and field athletes look good when they run, but when you run... how should I put it, it's not very coordinated."

"Because I haven't run much."

Gao Yuan was taken aback. "Haven't run much? What do you mean?"

Lin Feng didn't explain and continued eating with his head down.

Gaoyuan looked at the top of his head, remained silent for a while, and didn't ask any more questions.

Chen Hao sat down beside Lin Feng, putting down his bowl of rice after eating less than half of it. He placed his chopsticks horizontally on the bowl, looked at Lin Feng, and narrowed his eyes behind his glasses.

"Lin Feng, who taught you that shooting form?"