There was no feeling-out process. On the very first down, Li Wei unleashed the same despair-inducing stats he had displayed in practice.

The football flew into Li Wei’s hands. Without even a glance at the defensive line’s pass rush, he dropped back with light feet. Just as an outside linebacker from the Western team charged him, his arm whipped forward like a lash. The football shot out like a cannonball, streaking through the air in a straight line. Like a bullet that never lost velocity, it drilled into the arms of a sprinting wide receiver over 30 yards downfield.

However, Trevor Carson’s fame was well-earned.

In retaliation, he demonstrated textbook Quarterback fundamentals on the next offensive drive. While his physical attributes weren’t as freakish as Li Wei’s, his understanding of tactics, his pocket presence, and his use of play-action were simply sublime.

"What a pass! An arm that can throw 66 miles per hour is basically cheating in a real game!" Kurt Warner exclaimed in the broadcast booth. "The ball’s velocity is just too high! The West’s cornerback didn’t even have time to react before it was there!"

"Indeed," Mike Tirico was quick to add, "The West Coast has maintained a seven-wins-to-three-losses record against the East Coast over the past decade. Right now, even with Li Wei’s precise long bombs, he still hasn’t managed to pull away from the West Coast team."

"But I am looking forward to seeing what Li Wei can do on his own," he said. "I’m a big believer in him."

However, to everyone’s surprise, Li Wei didn’t showcase his god-tier individual skills early on. Instead, he played like a normal Quarterback, calling plays, throwing long passes, and executing from the pocket.

First quarter, tied 7-7.

Second quarter, tied 14-14.

But no matter what astonishing long passes Li Wei completed, Trevor always managed to lead the Western Conference All-Stars on methodical drives to keep the score knotted up.

As the game wore on, the tide began to subtly shift.

Li Wei realized his teammates were starting to fall behind the pace.

This was a hastily assembled team, after all. The overall strength of the Eastern Conference All-Stars—especially the toughness of their linemen—was clearly a notch below the brutes from Texas and California on the Western team.

On every snap, Li Wei faced a much heavier pass rush than Trevor did. And when it came to the receivers, Trevor’s teammates could haul in difficult, contested catches, while Li Wei’s might drop a pass even when it hit them right in the hands, simply because they were outmuscled by the opposing cornerbacks.

"This is unfair!" Don Quixote slapped his thigh in agitation from his private box. "Those barbarians from the West, their defensive line is a herd of rhinos! Li Wei is facing a three-man rush before he can even throw the ball!"

By the end of the third quarter, the score was 21-24.

The Western Conference All-Stars, relying on their superior depth and overall team strength, had capitalized on a mistake by the East to pull ahead by three points.

The atmosphere on the sidelines grew tense. The whistle blew for the break between quarters, and the players returned to their respective benches.

Inside the NBC broadcast booth, Kurt Warner stared at the stat sheet in his hands, his brow furrowed. His tone carried unconcealed disappointment.

"Honestly, Mike, I’m baffled by Li Wei’s performance through these first three quarters. I’m even a little disappointed," Kurt said, taking off his glasses and pointing to a replay on the screen. "Everyone knows he has that terrifying 4.29 speed and an explosive vertical leap of over 39 inches. But for three whole quarters, he’s been practically nailed to the pocket, playing no differently than a conventional Quarterback. Although, I will say, his deep ball is incredibly accurate."

"And that’s a Quarterback’s core competency, of course—and he’s been more than good enough at it, even better than the number-one-ranked Trevor Carson," he continued. "But why do I still feel a sense of disappointment?"

"It’s because he’s surprised us so much in the past," Kurt mused aloud. "Faced with a defensive line of the Western Conference All-Stars’ caliber, the East’s pocket protection is in shambles. A dual-threat Quarterback like him should have been scrambling out of the pocket to run the ball by now."

"It’s definitely not his style," Mike Tirico agreed, sounding hesitant. "I’ve seen the tape from his New York PASL championship game. He was like a beast uncaged back then. But today... could it be the pressure of a live, nationwide broadcast that’s making him play so conservatively?"

"If he keeps playing like this in the fourth quarter, the East is guaranteed to lose," Kurt stated definitively. "Trevor Carson isn’t playing better than him, but the West is the stronger team overall. They’re slowly but surely eroding the East’s chances."

「Meanwhile, on the Eastern Conference All-Stars’ bench.」

The Black defensive end—the one who’d been so nervous on the bus he felt like he was going to puke—was now drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The fear in his eyes was gone, though, replaced by the bone-deep exhaustion of a mission accomplished.

"Those bastards from the West..." He chugged some water and looked at Li Wei. "It’s all on you now, King."

"You did great," Li Wei said with a nod. His breathing was still unnervingly steady. "Leave the rest to me."

The head coach walked over. He wasn’t holding a clipboard, but instead crouched down directly in front of Li Wei.

"You see it, don’t you? The West’s defensive line is gasping for air," the head coach said, staring intently into Li Wei’s eyes. "This was the plan all along. Use a war of attrition, constant physical clashes to wear down those Fackers’ patience and stamina. Now, we’ve kept the score close. We’re only down by three."