"Here we go, bro!"
Butler's words sent a chill down Ding Yanyuhang's spine.
He had guarded Butler during the regular season once and learned firsthand how terrifying this iron-willed veteran could be.
But now, it was the playoffs—where Butler was known to transform into a completely different beast. His intensity and competitiveness elevated to an entirely new level.
And just as Ding feared, Butler's eyes gleamed with excitement.
A weak spot like this? It would be a crime not to exploit it.
Facing Butler's bench-led unit, the Warriors struggled defensively from the start.
"Thud!"
Butler's shoulder collided with Ding's chest at mid-range, and he immediately felt the impact of the younger player's solid frame.
Ding staggered back a step, just enough for Butler to rise and sink a jumper over him.
"Need a hand?"
Livingston called out, concern in his tone as Ding rubbed his chest in pain.
"Better not. If you come to help now, we'll be wide open," Ding replied quickly.
The Kings' second unit, led by Butler and Rudy Gay, was humming along.
Gay, the team's veteran leader, was showing flashes of his prime again, punishing Whiteside's hesitant defense with one smooth mid-range jumper after another.
"If only I were stronger…"
Ding muttered under his breath, frustration creeping into his voice.
Back home, he had been a star—one of the country's best. And since joining the Warriors, he had grown tremendously.
Under coaches like Chen Yilun, Malone, and Steve Kerr, Ding had firmly established himself as China's second-best player.
But standing here on the playoff stage, all of that felt meaningless. He was still getting overpowered, still struggling to keep up.
"Hey, don't make the kid feel like a failure," Gay said to Butler, frowning slightly at the sight of Ding's dejected look.
"It's fine," Butler said with a smirk. "He's got some toughness in him. No matter how hard you hit him, he'll stand back up."
"Then let me take him next possession."
"What?"
Butler stared at Gay, eyes wide.
Oh, so that's your plan, old man?
While the Kings joked among themselves, Steve Kerr sat anxiously on the Warriors' bench, one leg bouncing uncontrollably.
He recognized this style instantly—the ball-movement system perfected by Popovich himself.
He didn't even need to guess who was behind this design.
Kerr shot a sideways glance toward Brown, who was laughing and chatting with Malone across the court.
"Brown, you're not even the head coach—why go this hard on me?"
Kerr, Brown, and Chen Yilun were all part of the Spurs coaching tree. Malone, though not directly under Popovich, had long benefited from his mentorship and was considered part of the same coaching circle.
If Alvin Gentry hadn't left, this year's Western Conference Finals would have been an all-out civil war within the Spurs lineage.
Kerr had even thought about inviting Brown back last summer after Gentry and Luke Walton departed, hoping to pull his mentor out of semi-retirement.
But Chen Yilun had beaten him to it.
Shaking his head to clear the thought, Kerr turned toward Curry on the bench.
"Stephen, you might need to check in early. Otherwise, this one's going to slip fast."
"No problem," Curry said calmly, nodding with confidence. "I've got this."
The moment Malone saw Curry getting ready to sub in, he called a timeout.
"Switch to a 3-2 zone!" he barked, scribbling on the clipboard.
Even with Curry entering early, Malone refused to adjust his rotation. He stuck to his plan.
"Greg, drop into the mid-range zone. Gay, push up front!"
The players nodded, following his instructions.
"Thaddeus Young, stay on the weak side. When their big sets a pick-and-roll, switch with Greg immediately!"
Malone seemed completely in control.
Draymond Green was still resting, replaced by the less-mobile Hassan Whiteside.
Meanwhile, the Kings had rolled out three true forwards—butler, Gay, and Thaddeus Young—ready to match up physically against the Warriors' small-ball attack.
Just as Malone expected, the Warriors' rhythm picked up as soon as Curry returned.
Whiteside set repeated screens to free Curry for isolation plays, but the Kings' 3-2 zone held firm, with Oden anchoring the weak-side mid-range area like a statue.
Seeing Oden refusing to commit, Curry adjusted instantly.
Using a screen from Whiteside, he sliced through the narrow gap between Gay and Thaddeus Young with a smooth crossover.
The 3-2 zone's biggest weakness was its susceptibility to one-on-one penetration.
Once Curry broke through the front line, he accelerated straight toward the paint.
Oden was forced to slide over to contest, leaving his side momentarily exposed.
In that split second, Curry whipped a sharp cross-court pass to Ding waiting in the corner.
Without hesitation, Ding bent his knees and released a three.
Swish!
The ball dropped cleanly through the net.
"Damn!"
Brown muttered, glancing at Kerr from across the court.
"Both taught by the same guy—no wonder no one can crack their plays."
That offensive sequence was straight out of Popovich's playbook: an inside-out attack built on quick recognition and spacing.
Kerr was essentially using Curry the way Pop used Tony Parker back in the day.
And so, an almost surreal duel unfolded on the court.
Both teams traded baskets, but to anyone who understood the game, their tactics looked eerily similar.
Why did they play like mirror images of each other?
"Heh-heh-heh…"
At home, George Karl, now retired and watching the game on TV, couldn't help but chuckle.
"Popovich… Popovich… So this is what they call the students surpassing the teacher."
"What do you mean?" his wife asked curiously from beside him.
"The once-glorious Spurs dynasty has finally come full circle," Karl said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.
"It was Popovich's iron grip that held all those hungry young wolves together for so long."
"But after this season, I doubt that old man can keep them in line anymore."
"The unbreakable teacher-student bond…" He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"…is starting to crumble."
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser