Basketball System: Rebound of the Underdog-Chapter 576: Light The Torch

After all of the athletes had entered, it was time for the awaited performance prepared by Mr Liang.

It was extravagant, of course—a love letter to China's rich culture and its evolution through time.

The arena was bathed in golden light, lanterns floating like stars against the night sky. Each one carried the hopes of a nation, drifting upward and shimmering before vanishing into the darkness.

The stage itself was a marvel, a circular design that moved in harmony with the performance. At the center, a massive clock face lay embedded in the floor, its hands unmoving.

Dancers in flowing silk robes stepped forward, each movement timed as they traced the clock's edge in a circular pattern.

Twelve acts—the twelve hours on a clock.

The first act was serene, capturing the origins of ancient China. Performers dressed as emperors and scholars moved with grace, their hands miming the creation of calligraphy and art.

The second act brought the fields and rivers to life, with dancers carrying painted fans that unfolded to reveal sweeping landscapes of mountains and valleys.

Act after act unfolded, showing off the big budget that the committee had dished out.

From the Great Wall's construction to the rise of dynasties, the audience was transported through time. Drummers pounded out rhythms that shook the arena, their beats echoing across centuries. In the fifth act, the Silk Road came alive, with performers clad in reds and gold carrying silk banners that rippled like waves.

By the time the performance transitioned to modernity, the entire crowd was on their feet.

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Lights burst from every corner, illuminating performers dressed in futuristic attire. Neon beams and holographic projections danced across the arena, highlighting China's transformation into a technological powerhouse.

The dancers moved faster now, their circular motions mimicking the turning of gears and clockwork.

As the final act approached, the clock hands began to move.

Each hour had brought the ceremony closer to this moment.

The anticipation spread through the crowds as the twelfth act neared. At its core was a single towering platform, more than seven feet tall. Suspended above it was the ceremonial flame, unlit and waiting for the shot.

And there, at the very edge of the spotlight, stood Kai and Fernando.

Kai's expression was calm, his breathing steady despite the stakes hanging over him. In his mind, the noise faded into nothing.

Fernando, however, was anything but calm. He paced in short steps, wiping the sweat from his brow as he glanced at the unlit flame.

"Just shoot as usual?" Fernando muttered to himself, recalling Kai's words from earlier. He turned his head and looked at the young man beside him. "This kid must be out of his mind…"

Kai hadn't said much earlier when they practiced for the final time. In fact, Fernando remembered how still he had been—so still, it had been unnerving.

But there was something about him that made Fernando hesitate to doubt him completely.

Kai had looked Fernando in the eye and said, "Trust me, please."

Fernando wanted to scoff at the memory, but now, standing here with the entire world watching, that voice echoed in his mind.

The kid was young enough to be his son, and yet there was a composure about him that Fernando had never seen in anyone else.

What choice did he have now? He'd played his part in the ceremony before this moment, but it had never worked.

Still, Fernando clicked his tongue in frustration. He muttered just loud enough for Kai to hear, "If this doesn't work, you know we'll be the first ones to fail in years, right?"

Kai didn't turn to look at him. He was too focused, his gaze locked on the towering platform where the flame waited. "It'll work," he said simply.

Fernando blinked, surprised at the certainty in the young man's voice.

"It better," Fernando muttered again. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he realized he was going to trust him.

There wasn't any other choice.

The clock struck eleven.

Mr. Liang stood at the edge of the stage. He had pulled out enough strands of his mustache that he looked as though he'd aged ten years in the last ten minutes.

"Can we still fake the fire?" he asked one of the crew members. "Is it possible? Please say yes!"

The crew member stared at him wide-eyed. "No! We can't! It's live!"

Mr. Liang turned pale. His eyes darted to where Fernando and Kai stood preparing. "This has to work. It has to—"

Nearby, Johnny sat watching intently, his arms crossed and brow furrowed. His gaze followed Kai's every movement. Then, his eyes narrowed as Kai began to move.

The arena, filled with tens of thousands of spectators, fell silent as the spotlight narrowed to a single beam. It illuminated Kai, standing at the far end of the stage with the ceremonial ball in hand. Cameras zoomed in from every angle, projecting his face onto the massive screens suspended above the arena.

Whispers spread through the athletes seated in the stands. Athletes from other countries craned their necks to see.

"What's he going to do?" one whispered.

"Is he taking the shot from there?"

"That's impossible."

In the crowd, even the Elite Five leaned forward in their seats, their eyes locked on the young player.

Kai stepped forward, his movements smooth. He raised the ball in his hands, testing its weight.

For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

Fernando, watching him, swallowed his nerves. For all his doubts, there was something in this moment—something about the kid's confidence—that told him he might actually pull it off.

"This is crazy," Fernando muttered to himself before shaking his head and snapping into action. He stepped into position, hands ready.

Kai's eyes snapped open.

He took one or two steps forward. The arena held its breath.

Kai continued to do as practiced, following the movements of his animated self and projecting it in real life.

"Dang, he's good."

"He's the youngest player, I believe."

"He's handsome, too!"

However, the conversations stopped as he halted right before the white line. He let out a deep breath and threw Fernando a look.

And with that, he took the shot.