Chapter 86: The Storm (Part One)

Yuri Morozov, robust and broad-shouldered, had witnessed many storms in his life. Three years ago, when he was still a dockworker at the Royal Port of Saint Petersburg, Morozov had survived countless tempests in his thirty years, especially along the Baltic coast. In autumn and winter, the fierce winds carried freezing seawater, and anything exposed to the air could be instantly encased in ice.

Even in such harsh conditions, Morozov always managed to protect himself. Through years of grueling labor and meager wages, he worked a decade without injury—a miracle among his peers, and indeed, Morozov was known as the miracle himself.

Yet when Morozov offended a royal official at the port because of his childhood sweetheart, his entire family was forced into exile, and it was in Siberia that Morozov encountered another kind of storm.

Siberia’s winter is a forbidden zone for humankind, with untold levels of wind and snow ravaging a land that has always been rarely trodden. On the dilapidated railway, inside carriages like iron iceboxes, Morozov lost three toes on his journey eastward; his fiancée lost her left ear, his father a finger.

Having narrowly escaped death to reach the East, the lucky Morozov felt he had finally arrived in paradise. Even though Vladivostok still saw storms, Morozov no longer feared for his safety.

He cherished his new life from the moment he set foot on this land. It is hard to imagine his excitement when, after being classified as disabled by the Republic Immigration Bureau and receiving a monthly subsidy of five hundred yuan, Morozov was so overwhelmed that he felt this place was the closest to heaven he could ever be.

The two-year immigration internship had ended. During those years, Morozov and his family diligently learned the language, and now they were official citizens of the Republic, ready to begin anew.

To celebrate, the basketball-loving family went together to the People's Arena to watch the youth team compete. Morozov, having saved for two years, bought a season ticket to the arena. From then on, whenever there was a game, he could attend. The price for the season ticket was steep, but the family had no objections—it was their way of contributing as newly integrated citizens.

Yet, having already developed a sense of belonging to Vladivostok, Morozov witnessed a new kind of storm in this unremarkable youth match—a storm belonging to the visiting team, one that sent chills crawling over his skin.

At the start of the game, Morozov, like other home fans, thought the opponents posed no real threat. Physically and in spirit, the visiting team seemed unimpressive.

During the center jump, the opposing player appeared tiny next to Zhang Yongdong, the home team’s center, who barely moved and easily tipped the ball to his own backcourt.

But in that instant, the visiting team seemed to hit an acceleration switch. The ball tipped by Zhang Yongdong was still in midair when the opposing guard darted in and intercepted it. The Ridge North youth team hadn’t even reacted before the Borderland youth team had a player racing past the three-point line.

A simple pass and layup—less than five seconds into the game, the Borderland youth team had already taken the lead.

Though the opponents scored easily, most in the arena were unconcerned, dismissing it as a sneak attack. Once the game settled into a half-court battle, they believed the visiting team would struggle to keep up.

But as Ridge North's players slowly advanced, they found their opponents stubbornly guarding the basket, refusing to come out. The Borderland youth team’s 2-3 zone defense was so professional that it hardly resembled an amateur team.

Though slightly flustered, Ridge North stuck to their usual tactics. When they lobbed the ball to Zhang Yongdong inside, the Borderland youth team instantly double-teamed him.

Hawule held his position behind him, Cai Aihong pressed in front, and Wang Chaohui abandoned the corner defense to join the trap.

Zhang Yongdong dared not hold onto the ball, half-turning to swing it to the open corner. But as the ball left his hand, Turgun burst in from the flank and intercepted it.

It must be said Wang Lei’s defensive strategy, though simple, was highly targeted. Nearly all teams played through their big men, and a double-team usually left the corner and the top of the arc open. Wang Lei gambled on the first defensive play, with Wang Chaohui deliberately trapping in the middle and exposing the corner. The weak-side defender, Turgun, was a defensive liability, but his speed, agility, and reaction were unpredictable for the opposition.

Sure enough, Ridge North youth team fell into the trap from the outset.

After stealing the ball, Turgun accelerated toward Ridge North’s half. His dribbling was skillful, his speed astonishing, and the Ridge North players were stunned—this white-haired "child" was faster than any of them, especially while dribbling at full speed.

The entire Borderland youth team, on the counterattack, moved like a storm. Each line had a runner, even the tallest, Cai Aihong, was sprinting at full speed.

The counterattacking speed displayed by the Borderland youth team drew gasps from the crowd. The fans attending youth matches were die-hard locals, many of whom had seen countless games, but never such a team. The speed was simply unbelievable.

Ridge North players scrambled back in desperation. If the opening turnover was a fluke, a second would be inexcusable.

As Turgun crossed the three-point line, the Ridge North point guard finally caught up—he was the fastest player on the home side, not slowing down at all, ready to swat this audacious kid from behind.

But at that moment, Turgun, moving at high speed, suddenly stopped short, stepped back behind the three-point arc, and calmly launched a three-pointer, with no defender nearby. The abrupt stop and start sent the pursuing Ridge North guard flying past, losing his balance, while the basketball traced a beautiful arc and slipped through the net.