You son of a… again?!
A second undercut?
Can't you act like a human being?
Can't you show the basic moral decency of an NBA player?
Since you've thrown away every shred of face and want to ruin me, then… don't blame me for ruining you first!
Tch—
Fury blazed inside him.
Facing Scum Dog's second undercut, Su Yan exploded.
He'd already jumped, could have finished the shot and still dodged the foot—
Now he didn't want to.
He flung the ball away, dropped with only one thought: avoid. Who knew—this vicious Scum Dog—
After Su Yan dodged, the shameless guy even shuffled his foot again, desperate to undercut.
Classic case of 'the pot's already cracked, smash it completely.'
Classic case of 'hurt the foe a thousand, lose eight hundred of your own.'
???
You bastard… you really deserve to die!
Blind with rage, Su Yan stopped dodging, eyes cold. He looked down at Scum Dog's outstretched foot—
And let his own foot come straight down.
Looking for the pad?
Self-harm?
That's how it looked—yet Su Yan, who'd read it all, slammed his heel square onto Scum Dog's fore-foot!
Aaaargh—
Cr-cr-crunch!
Undercut failed.
Scum Dog heard the sound of snapping toes and screamed like the world had ended.
'Die!'
One stamp and the toes shattered.
Su Yan's fury still climbing.
He stepped back, landed solid, palm spun, fist clenched, arm cocked—
While Scum Dog howled, a right cross smashed full into the nose.
Not just one.
Bang-bang—two fists!
Aaaaargh!
An even more miserable shriek rang out.
Scum Dog's nasal bone snapped; blood spurted, racing down the bridge and across the cheek.
In an instant
his whole face was crimson, a ghastly sight.
The twin agonies of toes and nose left him no chance to retaliate—combat power zero in a heartbeat.
The enraged Su Yan
still wasn't finished. He torqued his torso and rammed an elbow into Scum Dog's chest.
With broken toes Scum Dog couldn't stand; he crashed flat on his back.
All of the above sounds long, yet it happened in a flash.
The provoked Su Yan switched to fight-mode; in two blinks he left Scum Dog blood-faced and wailing on the floor.
Everything too fast.
By the time anyone reacted, the fight was over.
Curry, Tyson and the rest rushed in; Joe Johnson, Crawford and other Hawks sprinted over.
The two sides squared off—
but only to square off again.
Tweet-tweet!
The refs' whistles came late.
They hurried in, planting themselves between the teams to keep things from boiling over.
Right now
only Scum Dog lay hurt.
The officials didn't whistle Su Yan at once—this time they'd clearly seen the undercut.
No hurry.
Check the replay first, then decide the punishment!
'Team Doctor, go!'
Coach Mike Haywood shouted.
The doctor sprinted over, medical case in hand.
The coach knew Scum Dog's ways, but a squad needs its dirty-work guy.
Hurt the opponent, let the player wear the consequences—
as coach he wouldn't object; still, with an injury, player health came first.
Whoooaa~
The arena erupted.
Fans were stunned—sure, they'd seen the second undercut,
dirty as hell—
yet Su Yan exploding and throwing punches on court? First time ever; everyone was floored.
Male fans shocked.
Female fans… swooning.
'So… so manly, Su Yan!'
'He's a good half-head shorter, yet he beat Zaza black-and-blue, blood everywhere, out cold.
Such… such fighting power.'
'So strong, so buff—I… I just love it~'
'Su Yan must be amazing! And I don't mean at basketball.'
'Su Yan, come tear me apart!'
'Of course! Still remember that night—Su Yan left me drunk on bliss, addicted, unable to stop!
Yanyan,
you were happy too, right?
Miss me—just say it; don't dirty your hands!'
'???'
'Bitch, shut up—quit your delusions!'
'…'
Insane!
Women lost in fantasy are absolutely bonkers!
Yet… with a perfect Su Yan, countless women really do fall into daydreams.
On the floor,
New York Knicks bench:
'Undercut dogs are unforgivable!'
McGrady's face was dark. 'Filth like that has no place in basketball.'
'Damn right!'
Curry nodded hard. 'Light side-line you a game or a week; heavy side-line you months, even the season.
Undercuts are disgusting.
They have to be punished hard!'
Hawks side:
After quick bandaging, the doctor stretchered Scum Dog off.
'Sure, there was an undercut, but that beating was brutal—he's got to be hammered with penalties!'
Joe Johnson grunted.
'Agreed!'
Josh Smith nodded. 'Throwing punches on court—can't be allowed!'
'Yeah, yeah!'
Hawks players cried foul for Scum Dog.
At the scorers' table
the refs pored over the tape.
On the big screen the director ran the full fight again in super slo-mo—
so everyone could judge.
In slow-mo: Scum Dog closes to defend, eyes not on Su Yan's feet at first—looks like a normal contest.
But Su Yan's already rising; Scum Dog can't block yet lunges in, foot extended.
Looks reckless—
but it's a clear undercut, and minutes earlier he'd done the same.
Next… Su Yan aborts the shot, dodges the foot.
Scum Dog panics, drops the act, glances at Su Yan's landing spot and keeps shuffling his own foot.
The intent is blatant—infuriating.
In that instant everyone understood why Su Yan had exploded so rarely
and turned violent on Scum Dog.
'If it were me, I'd swing too.
The guy doesn't care if you live or die, wants to undercut and end your career.
Scum like that—why show mercy?
Just deck him.'
Countless fans, once they saw the truth, burned with rage; if Scum Dog hadn't been carried off
they'd have rushed in for extra kicks to vent!
Soon
the three officials at the table, after repeated reviews, delivered the
final verdict!!!
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