Chapter 664 - 590: Even to Advance, I Must Win the Game Myself

Chapter 664: Chapter 590: Even to Advance, I Must Win the Game Myself

Inside the house in Safford, rented by Durant and his two teammates.

Durant was half-lying on the sofa, his sprained left foot propped up on a footstool. His ankle was red and swollen, and he was staring blankly at the ceiling.

Next to him, Harden was holding his phone, but his wide eyes showed his attention was elsewhere.

Only Little Jordan was restlessly shaking his leg, his brows furrowed into a deep frown. He suddenly shot up and said angrily, "You two, are you really just going to let this go?"

"An accident? I don’t buy it!"

"Did you see what that guy said at the post-game press conference? ’It was an accident,’ ’I lost control’—it’s all bullshit! I saw him struggling to keep from smiling smugly!"

"That bastard. He can’t win by playing fair, so he resorts to injuring people on purpose. I’m not letting him get away with this."

"James!"

Little Jordan roared at Harden.

Harden snapped out of it, a look of confusion on his face.

"We’ve been through so much. We finally made it to the playoffs, even got past the first round. Are you really content with getting eliminated just like this?"

"We’re going to lose anyway, so we can’t let him have an easy time either. Go get Demar. I know where they’re staying. We’ll go beat him up, beat him so bad he can’t get out of bed!"

Little Jordan viciously pumped his fist.

’Me, plus Harden, plus Harden’s good friends DeRozan and Holidays.’

’Griffin would probably join in too.’

’A 5-on-1 fight. A guaranteed win!’

"Is that a good idea?" Harden was startled.

Even though he came from the chaotic town of Compton, he’d been a good kid his whole life and had almost never gotten into a fight or even a real argument.

’The last time I fought... I think it was with Durant.’

Little Jordan had a nothing-to-lose expression. "Why not? We’re getting eliminated anyway, so I’m not going to let him have an easy time."

With that, he moved forward, grabbed Harden, and started to drag him out the door to round people up.

Harden’s small frame was no match for Little Jordan. He quickly looked to Durant. "Kevin, are we really going to fight?"

Durant quickly sat up straight and said to Little Jordan, "DeAndre, maybe we should just drop it."

"Drop it?"

Little Jordan’s eyes widened. ’Dude,’ he thought, ’I’m trying to stand up for you!’

His stare made Durant uncomfortable. He stammered, "I’m really angry too, but let’s not fight. Why don’t we go to the reporters and expose him? He told them it wasn’t on purpose, but I know better than anyone whether it was or not."

"Or, we could expose him on the forums and let the fans flame him!"

The show’s forum was always very active, with lots of viewers and fans discussing the games.

Durant had registered an account himself and often read what the fans were saying about him.

Little Jordan stared in disbelief. He looked at Durant, then at Harden who was nodding in agreement, and sat back down, dejected.

"You go if you want. I just want to punch him!"

’Go to the reporters? Flame him on the forums? Is that going to make him lose any sleep? Only fists will teach someone a lesson they won’t forget.’

Just then, someone suddenly pushed the door open and entered.

"Who wants to punch someone?"

Little Jordan turned his head, and his heart skipped a beat in fright. He shot to his feet.

Durant and Harden also jumped to their feet, looking like children who’d just been caught red-handed.

The visitor was Chen Yu, followed by Ernest, Presti, Jim, and others.

Chen Yu stepped forward, first gesturing for Durant to sit down, then turned his gaze to Little Jordan.

After a brief pause, Chen Yu smiled. "Quite the set of lungs on you. I could hear you yelling through the door."

Little Jordan quickly lowered his head, not daring to look at Chen Yu. But then, he gritted his teeth and suddenly looked up. "Sir, I..."

Before he could finish, Chen Yu raised a hand to cut him off.

"That’s enough. I already heard what you want to say. We’ll talk about that later. First, let me see Kevin’s ankle."

Chen Yu sat down beside Durant and looked at his left foot.

He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

It was clear at a glance that there was no structural damage.

He was young, after all. Unlike a middle-aged person, for whom a fall could be half-fatal, a sprain was nothing serious.

"It’s a minor issue. It’ll be fine after two days of rest."

Chen Yu reached out and patted Durant’s shoulder.

"Really?"

Durant’s eyes lit up.

Although the show’s doctor had already examined him after the injury and said it wasn’t a big deal and that he just needed to rest, hearing it from Chen Yu was clearly more convincing.

"Of course." Chen Yu nodded, had Durant lie back down, and then put on a pair of gloves before starting to massage his ankle.

’With a simple healing effect, plus the skill bonus, a minor injury like this would be good as new in two days.’

Beside them, Little Jordan was overjoyed and hurriedly asked, "Sir, will Kevin really be okay in two days? What about our game? It won’t be affected, right?"

He had been afraid that Durant would be out for a week, or even longer.

This was a TV show with a filming schedule; they couldn’t possibly wait that long for them.

But if it was only two days, it would have almost no impact.

Chen Yu glanced at him, his expression turning serious. "Weren’t you just shouting about crippling DaJuan and not letting him get away with it? If that’s the case, why do you care about the game?"

Little Jordan flinched and lowered his head again.

Actually, Chen Yu had arrived a moment earlier. He’d heard Little Jordan shouting about beating up DaJuan, so he didn’t rush in, listening for a bit from outside the door.

Little Jordan’s reaction was, one could say, quite normal.

Durant, on the other hand...

Chen Yu glanced at the evasive Durant with some amusement.

’What was he thinking, wanting to expose DaJuan on the show’s forum?’

’It just goes to show that Durant isn’t a bad person at heart.’

"Kevin," Chen Yu said as he continued the massage, "whether on the court or off, we can’t stop others from acting with malice, but we can at least control our own."

"DaJuan made a mistake and did a bad thing. He will face the consequences, whether he cares about them or not. But that’s not a reason for you to retaliate using the same methods, or even more malicious ones. If you do that, then there’s no difference between you and him."

On the basketball court, undercutting someone was, frankly, a relatively light offense. There were more than just one or two cases of players intentionally trying to end careers.

Tomjanovich tasted his own brain fluid, David Robinson was elbowed into shock by Ma Long—weren’t all of those more serious than this?

After speaking, Chen Yu turned to look at Little Jordan again.

"From the show’s perspective, we could punish him, eliminate him, and award you the win to advance. That would be very easy. But, I want to give you an opportunity."

"Kevin, two days from now, in Game 4, I want you to win the game on your own terms, eliminate your opponent, and show DaJuan that there are many ways to win, but hurting your opponent isn’t one of them."

On the way to Safford, Chen Yu had already had a serious discussion with Ernest and the production team.

Simply ruling a loss for the Ravens and eliminating DaJuan would have been simple—it could be done with a single word.

That was also the approach most people would agree with.

But Chen Yu felt that while it was the easy way out, it wouldn’t be fair to DaJuan’s two teammates.

They would have to bear the consequences of DaJuan’s mistake.

So Chen Yu proposed that the game should go on, allowing Durant to eliminate them himself.

"Isn’t that letting him off too easy!" Little Jordan yelled.

According to his way of thinking, they had to beat up DaJuan and break his leg to feel vindicated.

Chen Yu ignored him and looked at Durant, asking for his decision.

Durant looked at Little Jordan, then at Chen Yu, his gaze gradually becoming firm. "Sir, let me play. You’re right. If I retaliate like DeAndre said, wouldn’t I become a shameless person just like him?"

"Besides, if we’re going to advance, I have to be the one to win the game myself!"