The commotion and playful chatter came to an abrupt halt as everyone straightened up and greeted him in unison:
“Coach Sam!”
“Basketball isn’t played with words.”
The coach spoke with a faint, almost amused expression, yet the weight of his presence was unmistakable.
The previously arrogant Whitewall Mountain basketball players immediately fell silent, nodding obediently, their foreheads damp with cold sweat. It was as if they feared breaking one of the coach’s unspoken rules might lead to unspeakable consequences.
“I apologize for their earlier rudeness.”
Coach Sam’s smile was warm and disarming, devoid of any apparent hostility.
“Coach Sam, it’s been a while,” George greeted politely.
“Mr. Sam, you haven’t lost your edge,” Orson chimed in. Though his tone carried its usual flippancy, there was a distinct note of respect this time, hinting at their familiarity.
Sam Yanzi chuckled lightly, entirely unbothered by their casual demeanor. “Are these your teammates?”
His gaze swept briefly over the group standing behind them.
No one understood the strength of George and Orson better than Sam Yanzi. His eyes then landed on the newcomers—like the silver-haired boy with an artistic aura, exuding an air of elegance more suited to a stage than a basketball court.
Finally, his attention turned to the short, slender figure who barely stood at 170 centimeters, her sleepy expression masking any sign of focus.
Sam Yanzi studied her carefully.
This was the boy rumored to have revived a basketball team that had been completely abandoned?
Based on appearances alone, she didn’t look the least bit threatening.
But somehow…
Sam Yanzi’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this “boy” wasn’t as simple as she seemed.
This year, Eastwest’s strength was proving difficult to gauge.
On the surface, it appeared their only true powerhouses were Orson and George.
Suddenly, the crowd stirred again.
Sensing a familiar presence, Avira instinctively turned her head.
The sight that greeted her was mesmerizing: A boy with pale lavender hair stood gracefully, his androgynous features both soft and striking. His black tailcoat fluttered gently, perfectly accentuating his slender and upright figure.
Beside him walked another youth with unparalleled beauty, his raven-black hair shimmering as he moved. His pristine white coat flowed lightly in the breeze, like a deity descending to halt the passage of time itself.
His mere presence exuded an untouchable aura of divinity, as if every breath of air around him had suddenly become precious.
“Asa-Asa!”
Avira’s eyes lit up, and without a second thought, she walked straight toward him.
Asake paused, his deep violet eyes shimmering like moonlight reflecting on cherry blossoms. His gaze radiated a mesmerizing brilliance that no one could hope to rival.
“Asa-Asa…”
Standing before him, Avira tilted her face upward, her bright, misty eyes sparkling like bubbles in a glass of soda—fleeting yet effervescent, carrying an air of innocent anticipation.
“Asa-Asa, when are we going to eat cake?”
“After the match.”
His lips curved into a faint smile, and he showed no sign of rejecting her natural closeness.
“Mm… Okay!”
Avira nodded cutely, her smile full of satisfaction. Her gaze then drifted naturally to Lucas, standing nearby.
Lucas’s expression froze momentarily before he let out a helpless chuckle.
There it was again…
That feeling of being reduced to nothing more than a source of food.
Orson glanced at Asake and Avira, frowning slightly.
When had those two gotten so close?
Ashton silently observed Avira, saying nothing.
His rare silver-blue eyes seemed to ripple with something, yet perhaps with nothing at all.
“Let’s go,” Asake said, his gaze lingering briefly on Avira before he turned toward the court.
The commanding presence he exuded naturally drew everyone’s deference.
As Avira followed him into the gym, her steps faltered slightly at the entrance.
She turned her head, tilting it as if in curiosity. “Hmm, you all… aren’t quite at the level of being a danger to aesthetics yet, are you?”
Her smile was innocent and pure, but the look in her eyes was no longer misty. It was as deep and enigmatic as night fog, hiding something lethal, like a venomous white snake poised to strike.
“Kittens… line up and wait to be dealt with.”
Turning back, she gave a lazy smirk and walked away, the black aura emanating from her enveloping the entire space.
Behind her, the once-boisterous Whitewall Mountain players stood frozen in place.
“I suddenly felt like we’re doomed just now…”
“Same here…”
“I thought I’d never feel that again after facing Nightrius…”
They watched her disappearing figure in stunned silence, unable to shake off the impact of that fleeting moment.
Only Sam Yanzi seemed contemplative, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he gazed in the direction they had gone.
“Let’s go.”
After a moment, he turned and entered the gymnasium, his face once again donning its familiar, almost-smiling expression, as if the solemnity from earlier had never existed.
