A few days later.
The Warriors returned to their home court in Oakland, burdened by the painful reality of two straight losses.
"We can't lose again!"
Sitting alone in the meeting room, Steve Kerr felt an overwhelming sense of isolation and helplessness.
Last year's defeat had triggered a massive shake-up within the Warriors' management.
Logo Man, Alvin Gentry, Luke Walton—one after another, the key members of his coaching staff had all left Golden State.
Now, Kerr was completely alone, a man in the dark with no one to turn to.
Pushed to the edge of the cliff, he didn't even have anyone to talk to.
"What the hell do I do now…"
Exhausted, Kerr replayed the last two games over and over again, but the more he watched, the deeper his despair grew.
The footage offered no real clues.
Malone had only used the Kings' regular-season playbook—tactics Kerr had already studied inside out.
"Two games in, and Sacramento still hasn't shown their real hand," came a frustrated voice from behind.
Curry stood there, irritation written across his face as he stared at the frozen image on the TV screen.
"They have shown their real hand," Kerr said, picking up the remote and turning off the screen.
"In the playoffs, everything comes down to the caliber of your superstars."
After a brief pause to collect his thoughts, Kerr continued.
"Malone's biggest advantage right now is his deep rotation and his star power. So his whole approach is simple—stay steady, and let the players' strength do the work."
Curry nodded as he listened.
"So you're saying they're planning to just overpower us with pure strength?"
"Exactly."
Kerr began pacing back and forth, his mind racing.
"That's why they kept pushing the Seven-second counterattack in the first two games—they're using their stars to crush us."
As they talked, something suddenly clicked for Kerr, a spark flashing in his mind.
"If they want to rely on star power, then we'll fight fire with fire!"
His eyes lit up as he spoke.
"Next game, we'll run unlimited pick-and-rolls. Get Gasol and Barnes up high—run dual screens to free up space for you and Klay."
The more he spoke, the more confident he became.
"They like using their forwards to break down our small-ball system, right? Fine—then we'll stop playing fast-paced small-ball altogether."
"We'll go with a pick-and-roll shooting system instead!"
This season, Kerr had truly been driven to the edge by Chen Yilun and Malone.
In the original timeline, he was a die-hard believer in the small-ball philosophy—his confidence in his system bordering on obsession.
After Durant's departure, the Warriors leaned into a "championship-core" roster that exploded their salary cap and forced owner Joe Lacob to pay Luxury Tax after Luxury Tax, year after year.
Kerr himself had played a key part in that decision.
But now, because of Chen Yilun's rise, he had long recognized the flaws in his beloved small-ball system.
As the saying goes, the world isn't short of smart people.
If Chen Yilun could use his knowledge from the future to build this beautiful small-ball framework, others around the league would study it, adapt it, and make it their own.
"Stephen, for tomorrow's game, you and Klay get unlimited shooting freedom. At this point, we've got nothing left to lose—so go for it!"
Kerr's eyes locked on Curry, burning with determination.
"Got it!"
The generational superstar nodded firmly.
"I won't let you down!"
...
"This is insane."
Chen Yilun sat courtside, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
His once-slick, waxed hairstyle was now a mess.
On the court, Butler bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air.
He had given everything tonight.
From the opening tip, the Warriors had gone berserk—feeding the ball to the Splash Brothers again and again.
Curry and Thompson were unstoppable, raining down threes like a torrential storm.
Each shot chipped away at the Kings' defensive confidence.
Butler was the one tasked with guarding Curry.
The iron-willed warrior, already a step ahead in his evolution, used every ounce of strength to contain him—but at this stage of the playoffs, everything came down to raw talent.
Butler was tough, but against true genius, there was still a gap.
"What's the score now?"
As the game entered the fourth quarter and the score remained tight, Chen Yilun finally broke his silence, turning to Chris Finch.
Hearing the question, Finch handed him a tablet.
"They're unbelievable. Completely unstoppable."
Chen Yilun took the tablet and froze when he saw the numbers lighting up the Warriors' stat sheet.
Thompson: 36 points.
Curry: 42 points!
The two had practically monopolized every single shot attempt.
So this is your trump card, huh?
Chen Yilun rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
In this game, the Warriors had completely abandoned their signature small-ball style, building their entire offense around the Splash Brothers—Curry and Thompson—as a dual-guard attack.
The system's core philosophy was simple: give the perimeter shooters every opportunity possible to hit from deep.
In another lifetime, the "Portland Double Guns" had run a similar style.
Seeing the game still hanging in the balance, Chen Yilun couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Timeout!"
After Curry drained yet another three, Malone finally called another timeout, desperate to cool off the Splash Brothers' rhythm.
"Can you keep going?" he asked, glancing at Butler, who was completely winded.
"I'm fine!"
Butler shook his head hard, sweat splattering onto the Oracle Arena floor.
"They're just running on fumes now. I can hold!"
Though exhausted to his core, the fire in Butler's eyes burned even brighter—like a wounded beast refusing to die.
Watching him, Durant couldn't help but feel a surge of respect.
"Run two plays for me next," Durant said suddenly, pointing to a spot on the clipboard.
"Their weak-side defense isn't that strong. Run the Diamond set—give me an isolation chance. I'll target them myself."
"Got it."
Malone watched his players plan among themselves and, for once, stayed silent.
At this stage, the coach's influence was minimal. It all came down to the players' willpower—their hunger to win.
As the timeout ended, the Kings returned to the floor.
A pick-and-roll freed the ball for Durant.
Facing Pau Gasol one-on-one, Durant took a deep breath, his eyes sharpening.
So, Warriors, you've revealed your ace, huh?
Fine.
I'll be the Kings' strongest ace!
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser