After spending a night in Kentucky, Chen Yilun headed straight for Alabama with his team without wasting a moment.
After all, if you're going to put on a show, you have to commit fully—rushing over like this was bound to get people talking.
Meanwhile, inside a luxury hotel in Kentucky, Bonnie was giving her report.
"Judging from yesterday's game, neither team had anyone suitable for us—whether it's Kentucky or Alabama. Their star players are all solid first-rounders, even potential lottery picks, and none of the remaining seniors can really add value to our roster."
Hearing Bonnie's report, Magic Johnson, on the other end of the video call, could only shake his head with a bitter smile.
"Alright, I get it. Over the next couple of days, go talk to John Calipari again. Even if nothing comes from it, it's still worth strengthening the relationship."
This was the headache of having no draft picks.
The Lakers didn't just lack a first-rounder this year—they had already traded away their second-round pick as well.
So Bonnie's nationwide scouting trips were basically an attempt to find some hidden gem among the undrafted pool.
"Oh, and there's one more thing I need to report,"
Bonnie suddenly added.
"Chen Yilun was at yesterday's game too. I talked to him for a bit—he seems open to moving some of the extra draft picks he's sitting on."
"You met Chen?"
Magic Johnson instantly perked up.
"Yeah. John Calipari personally brought them in. Chen Yilun even had the newly appointed Prince and Anjali with him."
"That's quite the lineup," Magic Johnson muttered, thinking it over. "Old John still has a lot of pull—he even got them to fly out of Sacramento for this."
Having pieced that together, he immediately latched onto the second half of Bonnie's report.
"So you're saying he's considering selling a first-round pick? Whose pick are we talking about?"
"Not sure yet. He didn't give me a definite answer, but I'm guessing he's choosing between his own first-round pick or the Wizards' first-round pick."
"Alright. Talk to him again today—figure out what he's thinking. Leave everything else to me."
Bonnie hesitated before speaking.
"Chen Yilun seems to have already left Kentucky. Word is he had dinner with Calipari last night and then went straight to Alabama first thing this morning."
"Oh?"
Magic Johnson frowned. "That urgent? What does Alabama have that could interest him?"
He thought for a while but couldn't come up with an answer, so he waved Bonnie off.
"Forget it. Head back to Kentucky. I'll handle things with Chen Yilun."
After ending the call, Magic Johnson sat alone in his office, thinking things through. Then he grabbed his phone and dialed.
"Put everything else on hold. Go to Alabama. Chen Yilun went there, and I want to know who he's looking at."
News of Chen Yilun rushing off to Alabama spread instantly, and within moments, the attention of scouts across the league had converged there.
Everyone knew that Chen Yilun normally visited top-tier NCAA championship contenders. He rarely bothered with schools like Alabama—and this trip was far too sudden and urgent.
So, naturally, teams began sending their scouts to Alabama to investigate.
And it wasn't just the NBA that felt the ripple effect.
"What's Chen Yilun doing there? Did Alabama suddenly produce some kind of generational monster?"
In Durham, North Carolina, an elderly man in a polo shirt frowned at the message on his phone.
Anyone present would have recognized him immediately: the legendary NCAA coach, longtime national team head coach—Mike Krzyzewski.
Better known as Coach K.
Sitting beside him was his final protégé, Scheyer.
Unlike Gregg Popovich, who loved to mentor countless assistants, Coach K preferred one-on-one guidance. Even today, his disciples could be counted on one hand.
Coach Scheyer was currently serving as an assistant at Duke and was set to inherit the program once Coach K retired.
"Technically, only Sexton could catch Chen Yilun's attention. But with the Kings' current roster, there's no room for Sexton to shine anyway,"
Scheyer said, scratching his head.
"That's why you still need more training,"
Coach K chuckled.
"There are only two reasons for Chen Yilun to go to Alabama. One, he spotted some undeniable talent in that Sexton kid and wants to scout him thoroughly before making a push.
Or two—he's laying down a smokescreen and using Alabama to cover up something else he's planning."
"So which one do you think is more likely, Coach?"
Scheyer asked.
"I'd say the second."
Coach K replied without hesitation. "If it were the first, with how sly he is, he'd be moving quietly. He wouldn't be making such a big show of it."
"But regardless…"
Coach K leaned back in his recliner.
"With a move like this, every other team has no choice but to assume it's real. All eyes will be locked on Alabama."
"And us?"
Scheyer asked carefully, seeing the spark in Coach K's eyes.
"If he wants to stir things up, we're not going to sit still."
Coach K stood up.
"One Alabama isn't enough to distract everyone. We're going to add to the noise."
"At one o'clock this afternoon, contact the Kings. Tell them I'm personally inviting Chen Yilun for a visit."
"That formal?"
Scheyer almost jumped.
As one of the most respected coaches in basketball history, Coach K never needed to lower himself like this.
Usually, scouts and team executives had to schedule appointments well in advance just to get a look at Duke's players. It was almost unheard of for Coach K to extend an invitation himself.
"How else are we supposed to win him over?"
Coach K walked into the living room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and continued.
"Until now, all of Chen Yilun's connections were under Old John's thumb. We couldn't get anywhere near him. But now that he's climbed in status, Old John doesn't have the seniority to hold him down anymore. This is our chance."
Sipping his coffee, Coach K patted Scheyer on the shoulder.
"I've got a feeling—when the league's power structure shifts in the future, Chen Yilun is going to be a force no one can ignore. We need to prepare before he fully rises."
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser