NBA: This center is incredibly strong.

Orlando, Orlando Magic's training facility.

The new season's training camp has been underway for five days.

Every morning at six o'clock, Chen Yan arrives at the gym on time and begins training with the help of the trainer.

His training attitude was impeccable; he was always the first to arrive and the last to leave.

But the problem isn't with the training.

The problem is that his very existence is a threat.

John Amich, the Magic's starting center last season, is 208 cm tall and weighs 122 kg. He averaged 10.5 points and 3.3 rebounds per game last season and is a hardworking blue-collar center.

He doesn't have much talent, but he managed to secure a starting position by relying on his solid pick-and-roll skills and relentless defensive hustle.

But now, a promising fifth overall pick stands before him.

Amich isn't stupid.

He knew that the management had chosen Chen Yan to replace him.

"I'll find an opportunity to teach him a lesson and make him realize his place." Amich made his plans and decided to take the initiative.

The afternoon training session has ended.

The players returned to the locker room.

Some people were sitting in front of their lockers, taking off their soaked training clothes; some were listening to headphones; some were on the phone; and some were applying ice packs to their knees.

Chen Yan sat in his seat—the locker in the far corner of the locker room.

This is standard practice for rookies: they're furthest from the door and closest to the toilet.

He had just taken off his training shoes and was about to take a shower.

At that moment, Amich stood up, looking smug, and said, "Hey, newbie."

The locker room fell silent.

Most people are just waiting to see what happens.

This is an old NBA tradition—veterans prank rookies.

From carrying bags and buying donuts for veterans in the 1980s to having rookies wear pink suits and sing college anthems in the 1990s, this is the league's tacit "tradition," a ritual to confirm class order.

You may not like it, but you can't get around it.

Darrell Armstrong, the team's most senior and respected veteran in the locker room, calmly watched the situation unfold, showing no intention of intervening as long as Amic didn't go too far.

Chen Yan raised his head and looked calmly at Amich.

"Training's over, everyone's tired. Go buy some drinks and hamburgers for everyone." Amich looked around, as if seeking support from the others.

There was a low chuckle in the locker room—the kind of chuckle that comes from waiting to see a rookie make a fool of himself.

Chen Yan didn't move, sitting there in silence for three seconds.

He was well aware of the unspoken rules of the NBA, and with the mindset of "better to avoid trouble," he decided to run the errand.

Then, in a tone so calm it was almost indifferent, Chen Yan uttered a sentence that caught everyone off guard: "Okay. Where's the money?"

The air freezes.

Amich blinked, thinking he had misheard.

"What?"

"I said," Chen Yan neatly placed the training shoes under the cabinet, stood up, and said, "Give me the money. I'll go buy them."

He was almost ten centimeters taller than Amich.

The moment Chen Yan stood up, the fluorescent light from the locker room ceiling shone directly on his broad shoulders, casting a huge shadow that enveloped Amich.

Amich took a half step back—not out of fear, but out of instinct.

But then, anger surged up.

"Rookie, are you fucking kidding me?" Amich's voice rose, his face contorted with grimaces.

He raised his right arm, bent his elbow, and forcefully showed off his thick biceps, the threat obvious.

"See that?" Amich sneered, a smirk playing on his lips. "Looking for a beating? Daring to ask me for money? That's the rule in the NBA, rookie. Who the hell do you think you are? Even Kobe had to carry Shaq's bag!"

The laughter in the locker room disappeared.

The atmosphere became tense.

Everyone realized that things were spiraling out of control.

Chen Yan looked down at Amic's muscle-flexing pose, his gaze lingering on the bulging biceps for a second.

Then, his eyes changed.

This guy touched a nerve.

Since being brought to America by his second uncle and experiencing the hardships of life, Chen Yan's only motto has been: poor children learn to be independent early, and every penny must be spent wisely.

Inviting someone to dinner? He doesn't have that concept.

It's not stinginess, it's a kind of thrift ingrained in my bones, a desire not to add any more burden to my second uncle.

Now Amic is asking him to treat the whole team to hamburgers and drinks?

A dozen or so people would cost at least $150.

One hundred and fifty dollars is enough for his second uncle to work at the restaurant for a week.

Chen Yan stopped wasting words and proved himself through action.

He simply turned slightly to face the wooden locker behind him, then raised his right arm, elbow pointing outwards, without any preparatory movement, without any roar or shout, and just slammed his elbow down.

"Bang!!!"

The sound wasn't like wood breaking; it was more like a muffled thunderclap exploding in the closed locker room.

Everyone's heart skipped a beat.

Hill dropped the Gatorade bottle from his hand, spilling the orange drink all over the floor.

McGrady, still half-asleep, opened his eyes wide.

Wood chips flew everywhere.

Chen Yan's elbow went all the way through the cabinet door and was embedded inside the cabinet.

The bowl-sized hole had jagged edges, revealing grayish-white wood fibers inside.

There wasn't a trace of blood on his elbow, not even a hint of red.

The locker room was completely silent.

Everyone stared at the hole as if they were witnessing an impossible physical phenomenon.

These are solid wood cabinet doors!

Compared to this giant knuckle of the Dongda monster, it was as brittle as a piece of paper.

Amich's sneer vanished completely, replaced by a pallor that was a mixture of shock and fear.

He opened his mouth, his lips moved a few times, but no sound came out.

Only one thought echoed in his mind: If that elbow had hit me on the head...

Chen Yan slowly pulled his elbow out of the hole.

He looked down at his elbow, moved it a bit to make sure it wasn't injured. Then, he brushed the sawdust off his hands, the movement as calm as if he were brushing dust off his clothes.

Chen Yan raised his head, his gaze sweeping over every face in the locker room.

No one dared to meet his gaze.

Chen Yan turned around, took his training backpack off the hook, and slung it over his shoulder.

He stopped when he reached the locker room door.

Without turning around, he simply turned his head and, in a flat, almost indifferent tone, uttered his last words: "By the way, John. Get my wardrobe fixed. You pay for it."

Without waiting for Amich's reply, Chen Yan pushed the door open and left.

The moment the door closed behind them, a flurry of whispered murmurs erupted in the locker room.

"Holy shit..." Otto cursed under his breath.

"That cabinet is made of solid wood..." Monty Williams crouched down to pick up wood shavings, as if to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Hill hurriedly cleaned up the spilled drink in front of him, showing that he was not at peace.

Amich, the instigator of this farce, remained standing in the same spot, motionless.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and cold sweat trickled down his temples.

He stared at the hole for a full ten seconds, then slowly, extremely slowly, sat back down in his chair.

"John, I think you'd better not mess with him," Darrell Armstrong said, patting Amich on the shoulder and offering a kind reminder.

"I see."

Amich, recalling what had just happened, decisively admitted defeat, not forgetting to console himself: "Money can be earned back. But if you lose your life... then you lose everything."

Several people nearby wanted to laugh when they heard this, but none of them actually did.

Who the hell could withstand that elbow from Chen Yan?!

.....

The next day, when Chen Yan arrived at the locker room, the locker door he had smashed had already been replaced.

Amich sat in his seat and, seeing Chen Yan enter, immediately lowered his head and pretended to tie his shoelaces.

But as Chen Yan passed by him, Amich suddenly spoke up, his voice low and unnaturally warm: "Hey, Chen... um, the cabinet's fixed."

Chen Yan glanced at him and nodded: "Thanks."

And so, there was no further humiliation, no further pursuit of victory.

Chen Yan is not that kind of person.

He only needs to let others know where the boundaries are; otherwise, he's willing to give them face.

Although this incident has passed, the elbow quickly spread throughout the Magic team.

Assistant coach Stan Van Gundy heard about it, and so did head coach Doc Rivers.

Rivers specifically called Amich into his office for a ten-minute chat. Afterwards, Amich told everyone he met, "Chen and I are buddies. That day was just a joke, a joke."

No one believed him, but no one bothered Chen Yan anymore.