NBA: Northeast China's spectacular dunks sweep the entire league.

Chapter 62: The Semifinals Begin! Lebanon's Corrupt Referees

At 7:00 PM on July 2nd, at the Harbin Convention and Exhibition Center Gymnasium.

The air seemed to solidify, so heavy it was hard to breathe. This wasn't an ordinary basketball game; it was a meat grinder, a gladiatorial arena. The stadium, which could hold 12000 people, was packed to capacity, but the sea of ​​red felt oppressive at this moment, because everyone sensed something unusual—an ominous premonition mingled with the smell of blood.

This is the Asian Championship semi-final, with China facing their old rivals, Lebanon.

Inside the players' tunnel, the Hebei China Fortune team's locker room door was tightly closed, and the atmosphere inside was so oppressive it was almost unsettling.

Coach Jiang Xingquan didn't give tactical instructions as usual. Instead, he held a thick stack of photos in his hand, his face ashen as he scanned everyone. The photos showed the bloody scene from the final group stage match three days earlier, where Lebanese player Hadib elbowed Battul's eyebrow, the wound requiring seven stitches.

"Look carefully, everyone." Jiang Xingquan slammed the photo onto the bench with a loud "thud." "This is the opponent we're facing. They're not here to play basketball, they're here to kill! The referees won't help us today. Those old men at the FIBA ​​Asia only want to see the Chinese team bleed, to see us eliminated!"

He slammed his hand on the table, causing the water in the glass to splash out.

"Listen up, if the referee doesn't call a foul today, that's the referee's problem. If you dare to get impulsive, curse, or retaliate because of biased refereeing, get off the field! We want to win, but not lose face! We're going to win this damn game in the toughest way possible!"

"Understood!" The voice boomed, carrying suppressed anger.

Lin Hao sat in the corner, wrapping bandages around his neck. He wrapped the bandages extremely tightly, until his fingers turned white. He didn't speak, but simply changed out of his torn number 11 jersey and into a brand new spare jersey. He touched the canned yellow peaches in his pocket, his last solace.

"Haozi," Yao Ming walked over, his massive frame like a mountain, blocking out the lights, "Leave the inside game to me. As long as I don't go down the court, they won't be able to score easily."

"Yao Ming," Lin Hao raised his head, his eyes devoid of any emotion, only a deathly coldness, "If the referee ejects you, I'll send the remaining five Lebanese players to the hospital."

Yao Ming looked into Lin Hao's eyes and felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that Lin Hao was truly determined to kill him this time.

The competition began at 7:10 p.m.

The players from both teams entered the field. The Lebanese players, dressed in black jerseys, looked like a flock of crows. Hadib walked at the front, a bandage still on his brow. Seeing the Chinese team emerge, he deliberately made a throat-slitting gesture in Du Feng's direction.

A huge chorus of boos erupted from the crowd.

The referees were all from West Asia. The head referee didn't even glance at the Chinese team before blowing the whistle for the jump ball.

Yao Ming vs. Haddib.

The referee throws the ball.

Yao Ming, taking advantage of his height, flicked the ball towards Lin Hao. However, the instant the ball was flicked away, Haddib's damned elbow slammed squarely into Yao Ming's lower back!

"Ugh!" Yao Ming groaned, his body swaying to the side.

The referee did not blow the whistle.

Lin Hao received the ball, his eyes instantly turning as fierce as a wolf's. He dribbled across half-court, and the Lebanese team immediately sent two players to double-team him. It was a standard "slaughterhouse" defense, with hooks on his hands and ankles under his feet.

Lin Hao didn't pass the ball. He forced his way through, and in the instant he was double-teamed, the ball was stolen.

"Beep!" The referee finally rang the horn, but—

"White team (China team) traveled! Change of possession!"

"What?!" Jiang Xingquan jumped up from the bench. "They clearly knocked the ball away! Where was the travel?"

The referee gave Jiang Xingquan a cold look and stiffly pointed to the Chinese team's half of the field.

"Corrupt referee!" Zhao Dabao roared from the stands. "Are they blind?"

The game continues. Lebanon attacks. Hadib has the ball and, facing Yao Ming's defense, makes an extremely shady move—he sits hard on Yao Ming's knee with his buttocks, then uses the recoil to lean back and shoot.

The ball went in, so there's an extra penalty.

"Beep!" The referee blew his whistle, and Yao Ming committed a defensive foul.

"Fuck your mother!" Battul shouted from the sidelines, trying to rush onto the court, but was held back tightly by Adijiang.

Yao Ming gritted his teeth, looked at the referee, and didn't argue. He knew arguing was useless and would only bring more technical fouls.

With 8 minutes remaining in the first quarter, disaster struck.

China is on the attack. Lin Hao breaks through and passes the ball to Zhu Fangyu on the baseline. Just as Zhu Fangyu receives the ball, Lebanon's substitute defender, Fahad, charges at him like a runaway truck, his shoulder slamming into Zhu Fangyu's chest!

"Bang!"

Zhu Fangyu flew out like a tattered sack, crashing heavily to the floor, clutching her chest and gasping for breath for a long time.

The entire room fell silent.

Everyone was waiting for the referee's whistle.

The referee ran over, looked at it, and then...

There was no response.

They didn't even call a foul!

"Referee! Fuck you!" Du Feng angrily rushed towards the referee, pointing at Zhu Fangyu lying on the ground and shouting.

The referee, expressionless, simply raised his arm: "The match continues. That was legitimate physical contact."

"Reasonable my ass!" Du Feng completely lost control and shoved the referee.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!"

Three long whistles. The referee immediately gave Du Feng a disqualifying foul (DQF), ejecting him from the game!

"No! Du!" Lin Hao rushed over and hugged Du Feng, who was being taken away by security.

Zhu Fangyu was helped off the field by the team doctor, his face pale. China's star small forward was finished.

"We can't play like this..." Zhang Yunsong sat on the bench, his hands trembling.

Lin Hao stood in the center circle, looking at the nonchalant referee, then at Haddib, who was celebrating with a drink. He felt a surge of adrenaline rush to his head, and the world before him instantly turned red.

"Fine, very well." Lin Hao gritted his teeth, squeezing out the words, "Since the referee doesn't want us to win, then I'll beat you into submission."

There are 5 minutes left in the first quarter.

Lin Hao activated "killing mode".

He no longer organizes play, no longer passes the ball. Whenever the ball gets his hands on him, it's a one-on-one situation.

Facing Fahad's defense, Lin Hao didn't use any fancy changes of direction, but instead engaged in direct physical confrontation. He charged in like a bull, his shoulder slamming into Fahad's chest, each step making the floor rumble.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Fahd was forced to retreat repeatedly, and eventually dared not even get close again.

Lin Hao charged into the penalty area, and Haddib covered for him. The two collided in mid-air!

"Clang!"

Goal! But Lin Hao also fell heavily to the ground, even rolling twice.

The referee blows his whistle: Goal is valid, Haddib committed a blocking foul.

Hadib protested and yelled at the referee. The referee immediately gave Hadib a technical foul.

Lin Hao got up and walked to the free-throw line. He didn't look at the basket, but stared intently at the West Asian referee. He calmly made the free throw.

At this moment, Lin Hao was no longer that carefree, laughing boy; he was a reaper from hell.

At the end of the first quarter, China trailed 16-26 by 10 points. But Lin Hao fought back with his bare hands and blood. There were three bloody scratches on his arm.

The second quarter begins.

Jiang Xingquan made a surprising decision: to replace Yao Ming.

"Da Yao, go and rest." Jiang Xingquan looked at Yao Ming, who was covered in sweat. "If you keep fighting, they'll cripple you. Go back later."

Yao Ming punched the chair in frustration.

Without Yao Ming, China's interior defense collapsed. Lebanon began a relentless assault on the basket.

Lin Hao was on defense like a madman. He stopped thinking about tactics and only had one thought in his mind: steal the ball, fast break, dunk, humiliate.

With 6 minutes remaining in the second quarter, Lebanon inbounded the ball. Lin Hao immediately took on full-court defense, appearing like a ghost in the passing lane.

"Snapped!"

A clean and decisive steal!

Lin Hao dribbled the ball up the court, the only player on the court. Haddib retreated on defense, spreading his arms to try and draw an offensive foul.

Lin Hao's eyes sharpened, and instead of slowing down, he accelerated!

"Bang!"

The two collided solidly. Lin Hao lost his balance in mid-air, but he still managed to tip the ball into the basket with one hand!

"Clang!"

This is 2+1!

When Lin Hao landed, his ankle twisted, but he stubbornly stood on one leg and didn't fall. He pointed at Hadib and mumbled something, though no sound came out, the whole world understood his lip movements: "You... can't."

Hadib was knocked to the ground, and fear appeared in his eyes for the first time.

However, the referee once again became the main character.

"Beep!" The referee pointed at Lin Hao. "Offensive foul! Goal disallowed!"

"Are you fucking blind?!" The roar of the fans nearly lifted the stadium off its feet. Water bottles rained down on the referee's bench.

Lin Hao stood still, looking at the referee, and suddenly laughed. It was a chilling, cold laugh.

He walked up to the referee, didn't curse, but simply held up three fingers, pointed to the referee's eyes, then to his own eyes, and finally to the scoreboard.

It means: I've remembered you.

The referee felt uneasy under their gaze and instinctively took a step back.

At the end of the second quarter, China trailed by 8 points, 42-50.

The locker room was deathly silent.

Zhu Fangyu had a bruise on his chest, Du Feng was sent off, and Yao Ming was covered in sweat and dared not exert himself.

Lin Hao sat in the middle, holding the can of yellow peaches in his hand. He pulled the tab with a "snap," but didn't eat any; he simply placed the can on the table.

"Brothers," Lin Hao's voice was hoarse, "I know the referees want us to lose. They want Lebanon to win, and they want South Korea to make it to the finals."

"But," Lin Hao suddenly raised his head, his eyes burning with fierce fire, "I'm not dead yet. In the third quarter, I'll bring the score back. Anyone who dares to drag us down, don't blame me for disregarding team spirit."

"Yao Ming," Lin Hao said, looking at Yao Ming, "I need you alive in the third quarter. If they dare to trip me again, I'll cripple Haddib."

Yao Ming looked at Lin Hao and nodded emphatically: "Haozi, go and wipe them out."

In the third quarter, a storm struck.