Basketball System: Hate Makes Me Unstoppable-Chapter 371: The Simplicity of Dominance.

Han Sen couldn't hold back a grin as he walked over to Kuzma to offer a reminder.

It wasn't about tempering his behavior, but more about cautioning him against LeBron's inevitable retaliation.

Han spoke from experience—he had been on the receiving end of LeBron's dirty plays in the Finals, surviving only because of his [Iron Body] talent.

Kuzma didn't have that luxury. One careless move, and he might end up filling Hayward's infamous role in NBA "history".

Kuzma nodded earnestly, but there was a glint of understanding in his eyes.

He was no fool.

Most players, after provoking LeBron, would avoid him like the plague on the court. But Kuzma knew there was no escaping it. That's why he had chosen to strike first.

He understood LeBron better than most—how else could he qualify as a professional LeBron hater?

Sure enough, on the next possession, LeBron delivered a sharp elbow aimed directly at Kuzma's head.

Kuzma went down dramatically, and the referee blew the whistle, calling an offensive foul on LeBron.

Han immediately stepped in, holding LeBron back. LeBron, already incensed, escalated, and both benches quickly rushed in, creating chaos on the court.

The referee's shrill whistles finally brought the situation under control, and the game entered a technical timeout.

During the replay review, the crowd erupted in a mix of laughter and shock.

The replay revealed that Kuzma had anticipated the elbow and dodged just enough to avoid serious contact, selling the foul with some Oscar-worthy acting.

Han couldn't help but laugh after seeing the footage. No wonder LeBron had been so furious—Kuzma's performance had even fooled him.

"This kid... he's got a bright future," Han muttered, shaking his head in amusement.

When play resumed, possession belonged to the Cavaliers.

Even though Kuzma's fall had been an act, the rules didn't allow for retroactive changes to the call.

But as the game restarted, Han noticed LeBron glaring daggers at him.

'Was it really that bad, holding you back?' Han thought to himself, confused by the intensity of the look.

What Han didn't realize was that LeBron wasn't angry about the scuffle—it was Kuzma's antics that had triggered flashbacks.

This was textbook Han Sen!

To LeBron, it was clear that Han had been coaching Kuzma behind the scenes. Han had grown too big to pull these stunts himself, so now he was using his protégé to do the dirty work.

'Damn snake!' LeBron thought, seething.

Oblivious to the conspiracy brewing in LeBron's mind, Han continued leading the offense. Using Covington for a screen, he drew a double team and prepared to pass out, only to notice Kuzma cutting sharply toward the basket, leaving Moore behind.

Han threaded a perfect pass through traffic. Kuzma caught it and went up for a layup, only to be met by Anthony Davis, who swatted the shot against the backboard with authority.

Kuzma tried to recover the rebound, but Davis's superior reach and quickness won out. Grabbing the ball cleanly, Davis initiated a fast break.

LeBron, already well ahead of Covington, received the pass and finished with a smooth transition layup.

The score was tied at 14.

The Pelicans had been underestimated.

Even in the 'historical timeline' where LeBron never joined them, this team had made the playoffs after overcoming early-season struggles.

With Cousins out for half a season, they had still finished just one game behind the third-seeded Trail Blazers.

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Their underperformance last year had been more about chemistry than talent.

On the next possession, Han called for a post-up.

He had noticed something important—Davis was being used to guard Jokic to disrupt their pick-and-roll game.

While their previous pick-and-roll plays had been effective, they were also exhausting.

With defenders like Holiday and Davis, one of the few duos capable of directly countering their tactics, it was time for a change.

By pulling Davis to the perimeter with Jokic and letting Han operate in the post, they could ease the physical burden while exploiting mismatches.

Holiday tried to front Han, but Han's superior positioning and strength allowed him to secure the ball.

Jokic's pass was perfectly timed, landing in Han's hands as he sealed off Holiday.

Using a pump fake to draw a weak-side defender out of position, Han backed down Holiday before turning and fading away for a clean jumper.

Holiday, forced low by Han's physicality, could only offer a token contest as the ball arced over his head and dropped through the net.

The crowd buzzed with excitement.

After years of adapting to Malone's one-star, four-shooter system, Han had developed a devastating face-up game. But now, in his prime, he could switch seamlessly between face-up and post-up styles, dominating in both.

Pelicans coach Alvin Gentry adjusted on the next defensive possession, instructing his team to collapse into the paint.

That played right into Han's hands.

From the low post, Han drew Davis in from the free-throw line before kicking the ball out to Jokic at the three-point line.

Afraid of Jokic's playmaking, the Pelicans hesitated to rotate, gambling that Davis could recover in time.

But covering that much ground was impossible, even for Davis.

Jokic wasted no time. With a smooth release, he drained the open three.

Swish!

The Cavaliers were starting to find their rhythm.

Despite the team's overall struggles this season, Jokic had been a shining star. His improved three-point shooting—up from 32.4% on 1.6 attempts per game last season to 39.6% on 3.7 attempts this year—was a testament to his unique talent.

By the nine-minute mark of the first quarter, the Cavaliers led 27-21.

The Pelicans were formidable, but Han and Jokic were proving to be an unstoppable duo.

As both teams rotated in their bench units, Dwyane Wade checked into the game.

Han was surprised to see that LeBron wasn't staggering his minutes—a move uncharacteristic for him.

"Is LeBron suddenly playing like an old man?" Han wondered.

But the more likely explanation was the 'new supplements' LeBron had been using. While they boosted his explosiveness, they seemed to take a toll on his endurance—a tradeoff that even LeBron's legendary physique couldn't fully overcome.

The Pelicans' bench was no slouch, featuring Rajon Rondo, Nick Young, Nikola Mirotic, and Tyler Zeller, a group bolstered by Nike's offseason efforts.

However, Wade wasted no time asserting himself.

Despite his decline, Wade's competitiveness against LeBron-led teams was unmatched, channeling the same "bloodthirsty" energy that Han, Irving, and now Kuzma all displayed.

---

The game remained fiercely contested, tied at 92 apiece by the end of the third quarter.

But as the game entered the decisive final phase, the Pelicans' weakness was laid bare.

When LeBron's team lacks a reliable scoring closer, they inevitably face scoring droughts in clutch moments.

This was a pattern repeatedly proven during LeBron's Cavaliers 1.0 days, as well as his stints with the Thunder and Knicks.

As for LeBron himself, without elevating his post game, mid-range shooting, three-point accuracy, step-backs, and turn-around fadeaways to an elite level, he simply lacks the tools to be a consistent closer.

There might be the occasional night where his hot hand shines, but more often than not, he fades away in the clutch.

The new supplements couldn't save LeBron, just as Han Sen had predicted.

On the Cavaliers' side, however, these moments were Han Sen's playground—a stage for his full arsenal of skills.

Han erupted for 21 points in the fourth quarter alone, leading the Cavaliers to a commanding 36-23 run to close the game.

The final score: 126-113, a resounding victory for Cleveland.

Han Sen finished with a jaw-dropping 46 points, 7 rebounds, and 7 assists.

LeBron tallied a triple-double of 24 points, 10 rebounds, and 11 assists, but the numbers felt hollow in the wake of Han's dominance.

The battle between "the self-proclaimed best in the world" and "the league's undisputed best" had its clear victor.

LeBron retained his "Swiss Army knife" reputation, but that was about all he had left.

"LeBron should keep wearing his crown, or else it might end up belonging to Kyle Kuzma," Han quipped during the postgame press conference, when asked about Kuzma's celebratory crown gesture during the game.

Han's dig landed hard, reminding everyone of the absurdity of LeBron's self-crowning. Just as Han had once stripped Paul Pierce's "Truth" moniker of its gravitas, LeBron's "GOAT" narrative had been reduced to a punchline.

Kuzma? He'd just done the same to LeBron's crown.

If there had been any lingering desire for LeBron to don a crown in the future, Kuzma and Han made sure to extinguish it entirely.

---

After returning to Cleveland, the Cavaliers resumed practice the next day.

Before the session began, Coach Malone called Han into his office.

The game against the Pelicans had sparked new ideas for the team's offensive system.

"Mismatch isolation is the simplest and most effective strategy," Malone began, referencing Han's low-post dominance against Jrue Holiday in New Orleans.

Holiday was an elite two-way guard, but at 6'4" (1.93m) he was hopelessly undersized against Han's 6'7" (2.01m) frame—a natural mismatch.

Han wasn't surprised by Malone's conclusion. In fact, he was relieved the coach had finally "woken up".

It sounded odd, given Malone's tactical reputation, but his previous systems were still rooted in an older era of basketball.

The modern small-ball era thrives on simplicity and efficiency.

When a team has absolute stars, basketball doesn't need to be complicated.

Create mismatches. If there's no double team, attack. If there is, pass to the open man.

For Han, it was the easiest and most energy-efficient way to dominate.

And now, with Jokic's significant improvement, the Cavaliers had another player capable of exploiting mismatches.

Malone's blueprint was straightforward:

Han attacks. When he's done, Jokic attacks. When Jokic's turn is over, it's back to Han.

Malone's job would be to design plays that maximized these mismatches while conserving the duo's energy.

The remaining pieces? Surround them with the best possible spacing shooters and let the stars do the heavy lifting.

Han agreed with the plan, and Malone couldn't hide his excitement.

He knew this simple yet unstoppable strategy might be the Cavaliers' final step toward cementing a dynasty.

After settling his excitement, Malone turned to another pressing matter.

"I need you to talk to Derrick."

Malone had already tried to persuade Rose to keep playing but hadn't made any progress.

"He's vital to us. If we can't bring him back, we need to prepare for the worst."

It was a blunt assessment, but the truth was undeniable.

Wade's performance against the Pelicans was impressive, but his decline was inevitable. Players like JR Smith and Tristan Thompson were now practically untradeable due to their poor form.

Under these circumstances, a healthy and engaged Rose was critical to the team's success.

Han reluctantly agreed to give it a shot.

---

When Han saw Derrick Rose, he almost didn't recognize him.

The once-vibrant point guard was now a shadow of himself. His face was hidden behind an overgrown beard, his hair unkempt, and his posture slouched. He looked more like a man weathered by years of hardship than one who had ever dreamed of greatness.

This wasn't the same Rose who had joined the Cavaliers just months ago, full of hope, ready to chase the championship that had eluded him his entire career. That fire, that optimism—it was gone, snuffed out by yet another cruel twist of fate.

Han lingered in the doorway for a moment, trying to process the sight. "Damn, Derrick," he finally said, a half-hearted grin tugging at his lips, "you trying out for a survival show or something?"

Rose barely glanced up, his expression unreadable. "Nah," he muttered, his voice quiet, almost hollow. "Just figured... what's the point."

The words hit harder than Han expected. He stepped inside and pulled up a chair across from Rose, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Come on, man. You can't be serious. This isn't you."

Rose let out a weak, humorless laugh. "Maybe it is now. You ever think about that? Maybe this is all I got left."

Han stayed quiet for a beat, studying him. He couldn't pretend to understand what Rose had been through—the endless cycle of recovery, disappointment, and heartbreak. Han had faced challenges, sure, but nothing like this. He hadn't lived with the cruel uncertainty that came with a body betraying its own brilliance.

But he wasn't here to pity Rose. That wouldn't help anyone.

"You know," Han said after a moment, trying to keep his tone light, "when you signed with us, you had this whole vibe, like you were ready to take on the damn world. What happened to that guy?"

Rose shrugged, his shoulders heavy with defeat. "That guy didn't get tackled by reality. You know how it is. Injuries, setbacks... it adds up. And now? I don't know, Han. Feels like I'm fighting a losing battle."

Han nodded slowly. He couldn't argue with that. But he also wasn't going to let it slide.

"Look, Derrick," he started, his tone softening, "I'm not here to give you some speech about grit or how you need to bounce back. You've heard that a million times already. And if you feel like stepping away is the right move, I get it. Hell, I'd probably understand better than most."

Rose raised his head slightly, just enough to meet Han's eyes.

"But before you make that call," Han continued, his voice steady, "I want you to ask yourself something. Could this be your only chance to win a championship? Your only chance to be part of something bigger than all the pain?"

The room fell silent, the weight of Han's question lingering in the air.

Han leaned back in his chair, letting Rose absorb it. He didn't push further. Sometimes, all it took was the right question to spark something—hope, defiance, or even anger. Anything to remind Rose of the fire he once had.

As Han stood to leave, he rested a hand on Rose's shoulder. "Whatever you decide, make sure it's a decision you won't regret. That's all I'm saying."

For the first time in a long time, Derrick Rose sat with more than just despair. He sat with a choice.

(End of Chapter)