Generation Z Artists

Chapter 155

Center Brandon, who hadn't even had a chance to jump yet, raised his hands high, turned his head 90 degrees, and stared dumbfounded as Fang Xinghe passed by him.

Jamal remained on the three-point line, twisting his upper body, spreading his arms and turning his head, the despair in his eyes not yet turning into shock.

Lan Pangzi didn't react until he was lying on the ground.

He wasn't injured, because he wasn't thrown into the air, but rather crushed, which made it even harder for him to understand.

How could there be such a big difference?!
The current "Fat Lan" is not as fat as he seems; he is actually quite agile.

He has a running jump of nearly 70 centimeters, which is quite good for a power forward. Coupled with his terrifying wingspan of 2.18 meters, he stands tall under the basket, making him a well-known defensive stalwart in the NCAA.

But it was no use at all; the flood destroyed the dam with ease.

It wasn't until Fang Xinghe stepped out of the three-point line that the frozen arena suddenly erupted with shouts of "FUCK" and "GOD".

"Holy crap! What did I just see?!"

A group of black monsters were yelling and screaming.

In terms of sheer impact, Fang Xinghe is clearly inferior to beastly forwards like Richard Jefferson, but he displays a different kind of terror—

At the same time, Randolph jumped, just 20 centimeters off the ground, while Fang Xinghe was almost riding on his head.

That speed of bullets is simply inhuman.

"boom!"

Gentry slammed his fist into the window, turned and ran, rushing out of the office and downstairs to the sidelines.

Although he could see the whole situation more clearly from upstairs, he wanted to get a closer look at the details of Fang Xinghe's movements. This had nothing to do with the draft decision; it was just what he wanted.

On their way back to defend, the Team A members finally greeted Fang Xinghe for the first time.

"Hey, well done, bro!"

Gerald Wallace, adopting a big brother demeanor, spoke with feigned composure: "You've proven your ability. If you want to conserve some energy, you can bring your opposing player over to me, and I'll fill the gap for you!"

"No, just do your own thing."

Fang Xinghe coldly refused, but this did not provoke any serious retaliation. Gerald simply muttered, "OK, you're the commander, you call the shots."

Then he was devoured alive by the enraged Randolph.

Joseph obediently passed the ball to Fang Xinghe, then maintained a safe distance to the side, no longer gesturing wildly for the ball.

Very well, the troublemakers have all become compliant donkeys.

Meanwhile, the opposing side began to concentrate more forces to squeeze Fang Xinghe's breakthrough space. The difference in individual strength allowed them to devote a great deal of attention to him.

But this did not have any practical effect.

Fang Xinghe made a sudden stop and start, followed by a pullback between his legs and another sudden stop. The pressure from the extreme speed caused Jamal to stumble and fly backward.

Raise your hand, flick the ball, swish!
In the next round, Jamal, who had become a frightened bird, only withstood one sway before his center of gravity was pinned down. Fang Xinghe felt that such humiliation was not enough to make up for the opponent's previous foul language, so he pulled back and made another feint attack. As a result, the poor thing twisted himself into a pretzel and fell to the ground with a thud.

In the next round, when Jamal was shaken down for the third time, the man with hydrocephalus completely broke down.

"Fuck! I'm going to kill you!"

Fang Xinghe calmly watched as the other party charged towards him aggressively, raised his hand, threw a punch, leaving his defense wide open, and his mood instantly brightened.

Many people have previously criticized Fang Xinghe, including Jamal, the small forward from Group C, and the center from Group D, who used discriminatory terms against Chinese people.

Brother Fang is broad-minded and meticulous in his work; he has decided to do his best to protect the image and reputation of the Chinese people in the international arena.

What image do Chinese people have in their minds?

The skill of removing plaster, right?

Hey, what a coincidence, I happen to know a little bit about this!

Fang Xinghe happily crouched down and stepped forward, using his elbow to lead his body, delivering a perfect Bajiquan top elbow strike that pierced Jamal's lower abdomen.

puff!
After a faint thud, Jamal was thrown into the air like a giant toad, landing face down, half-crouched and half-kneeling, on the floor.

boom!
The unlucky fellow knelt down in front of Fang Xinghe, clutching his stomach and howling in pain, tears and snot streaming down his face, but he couldn't utter a single complete sentence.

Your brother Fang didn't go straight to the heart; he really showed a lot of compassion.

The ribs weren't broken, so it wasn't considered a serious injury, but the pain from the knotted intestines was something most people couldn't endure.

In less than 3 seconds, Jamal's crotch was soaked, and the white basketball shorts gradually turned yellow behind his raised buttocks...

Wow, he got knocked out with just one elbow?

That's fucking disgusting!

Fang Xinghe felt disgusted, but those around him were shocked.

The NBA is still a league of thugs, with fights and brawls being commonplace. Generation after generation of elbow kings shine brightly, but Fang Xinghe's elbow was still too amazing, bringing an impact that was completely different from the elbow techniques on the field.

It is a combination of strength and beauty, and a sublimation of martial arts and Tao.

These black men, unsure how to describe it, simply muttered to themselves, "Patchwork dismantling skills?!"

Ah, that's it, that's the taste.

Fang Xinghe was satisfied. He casually picked up the ball and tossed it gently onto the head of the tortoise kneeling in front of him.

boom.

After a soft crack, Jamal finally recovered from his stitches, clutching his stomach and rolling on the ground, letting out a piercing wail.

"Aaaaaah... my intestines..."

That's right, how can I feel good if you don't cry or scream?
Xiao Jia's suffering awakened everyone.

Some people were frightened, while others were enraged.

Randolph and Arenas, as notorious villains, Jefferson, as a tough beast, and Ryder, Jamal's college teammate and best friend, are all among those who are enraged.

Fang Xinghe's knockout attack didn't intimidate anyone. On the contrary, his smooth skin acted like an anger switch, giving them a strong urge to retaliate.

The next instant, three people rushed over from the field and two people rushed over from the sidelines, all pouncing on Fang Xinghe.

"Fuck you! I'm going to kill you!"

The players and assistant coaches in Group A also realized what was happening and tried to break up the fight, but with one side taking the initiative and the other being on the defensive, it was difficult to effectively stop them.

As a result, Arenas, who was closest, was the first to rush in front of Fang Xinghe, followed closely by Jefferson, Randolph was a little slower, and Ryder and Hassell, who were furthest away from the side, were flanking from the side.

Five against one?

No, it's one against five, the advantage is on my side!
In Fang Xinghe's spatial consciousness, the five people who rushed up one after another seemed to be a group of stiff corpse monsters. Their fists were huge and frightening, but their chaotic movements and disjointed steps were full of flaws.

Hmm, with both vegetables and meat, it's practically the perfect target.

So far, he was not afraid at all; on the contrary, he was in a great mood and took the initiative to intercept them.

With his masterful martial arts skills, he finally had a chance to shine, and it was exhilarating!
Full of enthusiasm, Fang Xinghe kicked the basketball out, then took two slow steps toward Arenas. Just as he was about to enter Arenas' attack range, he suddenly sprang up.

Just like basketball requires attacking the opponent's front foot, combat sports also have the concept of attacking the landing point.

When ordinary people get into a fight, they especially like to rush in and throw punches, as if adding a little impact will knock out their opponent in one blow. But in fact, during the forward rush, the front foot that is randomly stepped forward without knowing how to walk is a huge opening.

Taking advantage of Arenas's unsteady footing, Fang Xinghe suddenly changed his rhythm and easily lured out that wild punch.

The abrupt change in rhythm caused Arenas's punch to be rushed and inaccurate, while Fang Xinghe, with his powerful explosive force, closed the distance in one step.

Left arm protects the head, right arm uses Xingyi (a martial art technique), Bengquan (a powerful punch)!

The key to the Bengquan (崩拳) movement is to take a half-step forward, bring your shoulders together, and twist out a penetrating force like an arrow or a spear.

It doesn't shoot from a distance, it shoots at close range.

A true kung fu master can unleash the full power of their entire body from the distance of a forearm.

Fang Xinghe's kung fu was already at the level of a master, and he specifically targeted the liver. Even though he held back a little and didn't hit the full target, this punch still turned Arenas into a shrimp.

The left arm protecting the head wasn't used at all, but that's okay, it's perfect for the next move.

With fingers spread, he pressed down on Arenas's side as he bent over and groaned, and forcefully pulled him diagonally forward. Agent Zero, who had stumbled and fallen, became an obstacle for Jefferson's sprint from behind.

boom.

When the two collided, Jefferson instinctively grabbed Arenas, his movements becoming chaotic and disorganized. The next second, a bright moon rose into his field of vision.

Fang Xinghe rushed forward, close to Arenas' body, cutting into Jefferson's blind spot, and suddenly leaped high into the air after getting close.

Tiger pounces, slashing downwards!
A normal chopping punch should never leave the ground and cause someone to jump into the air, and it's even more so in serious combat. But since this is just bullying noobs, we can do whatever is convenient.

Jefferson's reaction time and speed were actually decent, but when he collided with Arenas, he lost his balance, his hands were restrained, and he lost his defense, so all he could do was tilt his head.

But if it hadn't been tilted, it would have been fine; a slap to the forehead would have only caused a bump. But because it tilted, it exposed a vulnerable area from his temple to the side of his head, making his head start to vibrate like a bell when Fang Xinghe slapped him.

Mom, why is it dark?

Oh, it's my low blood sugar acting up...

With a loud bang, this guy was also knocked out.

Double kill.

Even now, Randolph, positioned diagonally opposite, hasn't reached his position yet—because the basketball Fang Xinghe kicked earlier flew right to his feet, tripping him and nearly causing him to fall.

After landing, Fang Xinghe immediately made a feint by lunging forward.

Randolph, standing 3 meters away, was on high alert and quickly raised his hands to brace himself.

Although not a professional, his massive size and terrifying wingspan instantly maximize his interception and deterrent power.

result……

After making a feint by lowering his body, Fang Xinghe immediately turned around and took another half step forward, leaping high into the air and delivering a spinning side kick!

Ryder, who was charging in from the side, had never seen such a professional style of play before.

Completely unprepared, Fang Xinghe delivered a flying side kick that pierced through all defenses, landing hard on his cheek.

If we slow down time, the instant Ryder's cheek touched the sole of the shoe, it immediately deformed, the muscles caved in, then bounced back, the edges vibrating violently, two snow-white teeth flew out, the whites of his eyes quickly became bloodshot, and his dreadlocks straightened and tightened in mid-air...

boom!
Ryder was sent flying horizontally, crashing heavily to the floor, then flipping 720 degrees in mid-air before landing parallel to the ground, creating the loudest, most brutal noise of the day.

Previously, it was he who had hurled a bunch of vulgar and offensive insults at Fang Xinghe. Fang Ge doesn't hold grudges, so he usually retaliates on the spot.

Once he landed steadily and effortlessly, the last guy who rushed in suddenly raised his hands and shouted wildly.

"Hey! Easy, easy!"

Relax, relax, hey buddy, I'm just here to break up the fight!

Since no one threw a punch at him, Fang Xinghe was happy to show his magnanimity and kicked him straight away.

In the end, only the heavyweight Randolph was left, who could be dealt with easily.

As soon as Fang Xinghe turned around, seven or eight people suddenly rushed towards him.

Just as he was about to clench his fist, a group of white guys simultaneously raised their hands.

The next second, Anderson pounced on the floor and slid over, grabbing his leg and refusing to let go.

"Father, please stop! Please, stop your supernatural powers!"

Well, that's not the exact wording, but the meaning is similar.

The old man, with snot and tears streaming down his face, clung to Fang Xinghe tightly, refusing to let go—he was the person in charge on the field and bore all the responsibility. If Fang's father continued to work, wiping out these little green house seeds, their good days would truly be over.

On the other side, Randolph was also blocked by players from Group A.

The guy struggled a few times, fidgeting, while being embraced by the three burly men.

"Let go of me! Let go! I'm not afraid of him!"

Fang Xinghe looked up, expressionless, and simply raised his chin slightly: "Very good, see you in the parking lot later."

Randolph froze, then his eyebrows and eyes drooped.

Faced with his teammates' attempts to comfort him, he mumbled softly, "Listen, guys, I'm not afraid of him. He can't beat me at all. But as you know, I'm a good-tempered guy. I'm religious, I respect my elders, and I care about my teammates. I don't want to resort to violence over a small conflict on the court..."

In conclusion: I'm not going.

Gerald patted his chest and said meaningfully, "Keep your good temper in check, and at the very least, don't mess with the Chinese again..."

Everyone thought the same thing, and they nodded in agreement.

Joseph, with his shifty eyes, sidled up and whispered, "Hey, guess how long it took you to take down those four just now?"

"do not know."

"Didn't notice, it seems like less than a minute?"

"It was so fast, I didn't even have time to react!"

“Eight to ten seconds!” Joseph exclaimed excitedly. “Or even less! Wow, that’s definitely Chinese Kung Fu, hoho!”

"Chinese people are really scary."

Brandon, the two-meter-tall center, was still shaken. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and released his grip on Randolph.

Randolph immediately pulled his hand back to his shoulder and held it tightly to his chest.

Hey, don't let go of me, buddy, I need you!

Anderson doesn't need anyone, just an oxygen concentrator.

It wasn't difficult to comfort Fang Xinghe, but when the medical staff came in and carried away three people, the initial examination results were terrible, which made him suddenly wish that he could be carried away too.

The trial training was disrupted and had to end there.

There are still three groups of players who haven't been evaluated yet, and they've missed their chance, at least not with the Clippers.

The stingy boss will never give them another special event.

The black and white players were clearly separated, each grouping together, looking at the figure in the center of the court with awe, not daring to criticize, only able to complain quietly.

"Is this guy a fighter? Why doesn't he go to the boxing ring? He'd be more famous and earn more money there."

"That's Chinese Kung Fu. Maybe they don't earn enough to fight in their own countries?"

"Come on, he's good at basketball, he's handsome, he can become famous and make a lot of money no matter what he does."

"Yeah, yeah, he's really strong, a terrifying Chinese man."

"I don't understand, why were all my Chinese classmates so weak?"

"Not every Chinese person learns kung fu, you know? Their country has a special organization that specifically takes in these monsters, and each one of them is a top-tier assassin..."

"Bullshit!"

"You saw it with your own eyes! How do you explain that he's so skinny, yet he took down four strong men in just a few seconds?!"

"Yes! If you give him a weapon, I believe he could fight his way from here to the Hollywood Walk of Fame..."

"Hiss... Luckily I didn't provoke him..."

"Yes, thankfully, I won't dare to provoke any Chinese people anymore."

"But what about our trials?"

"Just consider yourself unlucky. Or do you want him to fake you out on the court and then kick you in the cheek?"

"Forget it, let's leave. The camera is still filming, and I don't want my family to see me looking like a coward."

The players dispersed in twos and threes, and the cameras were finally turned off.

The cameraman, however, was not able to call it a day—Wang Chali went over and began to negotiate.

Fang Xinghe sat in his office, being pulled into a conversation by Jin Terry.

Anderson grumbled as he accompanied those idiots to the hospital; he had to work overtime today.

Another assistant coach reported the matter to the league as required, but Commissioner Stern asked in surprise, "A Chinese? Are you sure?!"

One of the staff members furtively pulled out his phone: "Hello? Los Angeles Times? I have a super big news story that you'll absolutely be satisfied with!"

Amidst turbulent undercurrents, Fang Xinghe made a highly disruptive start to his trip to the United States.

(End of this chapter)