"Bridges?"
At Chen Yilun's question, Jay Wright raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"You already have Durant and Butler—why would you still need another wing?"
"Better safe than sorry."
Chen Yilun laughed lightly, not bothering to argue.
"Everyone in the league knows I'm obsessed with wings."
He grew more animated as he spoke.
"Even though our playoff experiment failed this year, I still believe the future of basketball belongs to tall wings."
He was referring to the five-forward lineup that Malone had unveiled during the Western Conference Finals.
Hearing such a technical topic, Jay Wright's interest was piqued.
"But I think that idea only works in theory," he said after some thought.
"Five big forwards might look unstoppable on paper, but if they run into a team with a dominant center, they'll crumble."
"I'll tell you this!" Jay Wright grew increasingly animated.
"The modern game might be phasing out traditional centers, but I've noticed something—the new generation of big men are slimming down to stay mobile."
"Once these kids grow up, the wing-dominated era will come to an end."
He gestured passionately as he spoke.
"Yilun, can you imagine it? A seven-footer who can dribble and shoot from the perimeter, run the offense, crash the boards, and lead fast breaks?"
That's Wembanyama!
The name flashed through Chen Yilun's mind. This old man really had an eye for the future—he'd predicted the evolution of basketball with startling precision.
In that instant, Chen Yilun realized that what he possessed was nothing but the advantage of rebirth.
This world wasn't short of talent—people like Jay Wright could grasp the flow of history without any divine foresight.
Sitting beside them, Tang Zhou felt like he was listening to a foreign language.
So this was the world of true experts? He really needed to train harder.
After their discussion, Jay Wright's opinion of Chen Yilun changed drastically.
He had always assumed Chen was just a money-driven businessman, but after this talk, he realized the Asian kid's understanding of basketball was every bit as deep as his own.
After grabbing a quick lunch, Jay Wright led Chen Yilun toward the gym.
"Coach!"
At the entrance, a tall Black center with a huge backpack greeted them in a deep voice.
"Omar, you're here early."
Jay Wright nodded in acknowledgment. "This is Mr. Chen Yilun, President of the Kings."
"Oh—Mr. Chen! Nice to meet you, sir!"
Omar Spellman was taken aback by the introduction. He hadn't expected the influential NBA figure Chen Yilun to show up on campus.
"Yilun's here to watch our team practice. Make sure you give it your best."
Jay Wright patted Spellman's shoulder, signaling him to head inside first.
Chen Yilun remembered Spellman—his biggest moment had been getting drafted 30th overall by the Hawks in 2018. After that, he drifted around the league before heading to South Korea to play professionally and make some money.
As soon as he entered the gym, Spellman hurried straight for the locker room.
"What's the rush? You see a ghost or something?"
Josh Hart, the team's leader, looked up irritably as Spellman burst in.
Hart was known for his controlling nature—he liked to keep the team entirely under his command.
When newcomers like Brunson and DiVincenzo first joined, they'd been bullied plenty by him.
Once, DiVincenzo finally snapped under Hart's constant verbal attacks, and the two ended up brawling in the gym so fiercely that it needed renovations afterward.
But under that same pressure, Villanova's "Big Three" had forged a bond strong enough to carry them to their eventual reunion in New York.
"Chen Yilun is here!" Spellman stammered, noticing Hart's presence.
"You know, the Kings' president! I just saw the coach bringing him in."
"Chen Yilun?!" Hart froze. "The draft's already over—what's he doing here?"
"How would I know?" Spellman said, setting down his bag.
"I didn't even recognize them at first. The coach introduced him, and that's when I realized who it was."
"Why'd he suddenly show up?"
Even fearless Hart grew tense at that. He was heading into his senior year, and the next draft would likely be his final chance.
His future in the game he loved rested entirely on the decisions of thirty men in the NBA.
"How would I know?" Spellman muttered, then suddenly looked like he'd remembered something. "Wait—you think Chen Yilun heard about that thing?"
"What thing? Oh…" Hart stopped mid-sentence as he caught on.
They were referring to their redshirted teammate from last season—Donte DiVincenzo.
A "redshirt" refers to a player who skips intercollegiate competition for a year due to injury or other reasons, effectively preserving a year of eligibility.
Last season, DiVincenzo had chosen to redshirt after fracturing a metatarsal.
The incident happened during this year's Final Four in March Madness.
Villanova had faced off against Oklahoma, led by Buddy Hield.
As mentioned before, Hield was an elite scorer in the NCAA. Before the game, Villanova organized an internal scrimmage to simulate Oklahoma's style of play.
The freshman tasked with imitating Hield in that scrimmage was none other than DiVincenzo.
As Hield's stand-in, DiVincenzo took unlimited shots, fearlessly leading a squad of bench players to completely dominate Villanova's starters.
After that scrimmage, everyone on the team agreed—Hield might be great, but DiVincenzo was something else entirely.
"If that's why he came, it makes sense," Hart admitted.
After all, their defeated rival Hield had gone high in this year's draft. For someone as sharp as Chen Yilun, coming to take a look at DiVincenzo wasn't surprising.
As more players arrived, word spread quickly about Chen Yilun's visit.
"Alright, boys!" Jay Wright walked into the locker room. "We're changing things up today—time for an internal scrimmage."
"I'm sure you've all heard, Chen Yilun from the Kings is here. So show what you've got and grab this opportunity. Big names like him don't drop by every day. If he takes notice of you, a comeback isn't impossible."
"Let's go!"