60–89.
The numbers glared down from the TD Garden scoreboard like a cruel reminder.
Game 6 of the 2008 NBA Finals. Los Angeles Lakers versus Boston Celtics.
The series stood at 3–2. Tonight, the battle had shifted to Boston's home floor — the legendary TD Banknorth Garden, where every green-clad fan was on their feet, savoring the moment.
But with the third quarter just finished, the Lakers trailed by 29.
A gap that wide left no suspense. Everyone inside the arena knew it. The Celtics were only minutes away from raising the franchise's 17th championship banner. Fifteen long years of waiting were about to end.
The crowd roared like a tidal wave, chanting, stomping, already celebrating. Green jerseys swayed in unison, camera flashes flickered like stars, and the old parquet floor trembled under the weight of history.
In stark contrast, the Lakers' bench sat in silence. Shoulders slumped. Heads hung low. Every man in purple and gold wore the same expression — frustration mixed with resignation.
No one dared to speak. A 29-point hole in the Finals' final quarter? Even the most optimistic fan couldn't imagine climbing out of it.
Kobe Bryant sat near the end of the bench, chest heaving, sweat dripping. His face was set in stone, eyes burning red with fury. His body trembled — from exhaustion, yes, but also from the unwillingness to accept defeat. Another title dream slipping away, another heartbreak on the biggest stage.
It was one of the cruelest moment of his career.
At the very end of the bench sat a young Chinese player, staring up at the scoreboard. He glanced at Kobe beside him, felt that suffocating despair, and could only force out a bitter smile.
His name was Jiang Chen. Unlike the others, his pain carried an extra layer of strangeness — because he wasn't supposed to be here at all.
Two days ago, in another life, Jiang Chen had stood up to protect a female coworker from harassment by his boss. Ironically, that very coworker sided with the boss. In the aftermath, Jiang Chen was fired on the spot.
Crushed and furious, he drowned his frustration in an all-night NBA 2K marathon. Somewhere between exhaustion and defeat, he fell asleep with the controller in hand. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in his apartment — but in the body of a Lakers benchwarmer.
Even stranger: the original owner of this body was also named Jiang Chen.
Through inherited memories, he pieced together the truth. The Lakers had signed the original Jiang Chen on a one-year, minimum contract worth $450,000 — a short-term gamble, nothing more.
Undrafted, under-polished, his only real selling point had been raw athleticism by Chinese standards and a half-decent three-point shot.
But the NBA was unforgiving. His shooting touch had vanished under the bright lights, and without that skill, he was exposed as a fringe player. He never cracked the rotation, never earned minutes. For an entire season, he sat in silence, towel draped around his shoulders.
Yet the original Jiang Chen hadn't quit. He pushed his body relentlessly in practice, grinding day after day, trying to prove himself. And then, in one final cruel twist, he collapsed from overwork. His sudden death became the opportunity for another soul to take over.
Jiang Chen, the transmigrator, sighed inwardly.
"Talent gaps are like walls. No matter how hard you smash against them, sometimes all you get is blood."
He mourned the original owner's fate, but for himself? Basketball wasn't life or death. He carried with him knowledge of the next decade — markets, trends, opportunities. If he wanted, he could go home, invest smartly, and become a billionaire without breaking a sweat.
It wasn't that he didn't love basketball. He had been a die-hard fan in his old life. But passion alone couldn't close the gulf of ability. Reality had to be faced. His true advantage now was foresight. His forte would be making money.
That was his conviction… until a sharp voice snapped him back.
"Jiang, coach is calling you."
The words dripped with disdain. To a teammate, seeing him distracted during the Finals was nothing short of embarrassing.
Jiang Chen blinked in surprise, then looked up. Sure enough, Kobe, Gasol, and the starters were walking off, heads heavy, bodies drained. The scoreboard now read 60–93. The gap had ballooned to 33.
On the sideline, Phil Jackson gestured in his direction. Jiang Chen pointed to himself to confirm. The Zen Master gave a subtle nod.
There was no mistaking it. Garbage time. The kind of minutes reserved for fringes players, rookies, and nobodies.
Still, his legs carried him forward. He pulled off his warmup, stepped onto the hardwood, and crossed that thin line separating spectators from combatants.
And at that very instant—
[Ding! Congratulations, host. Game entry detected. Kuroko's Basketball System activated!]
[Ding! Binding successful. Issuing novice reward. Do you wish to claim it?]
Hearing the voice echo in his mind, Jiang Chen froze.
A… system?
Just like the ones he had read about in countless web novels in his past life?
Holy shit!
It came out of nowhere!
When he had first transmigrated, he half-expected something like this. He had even shouted into the in his mind, calling for a system, imagining he'd become one of those protagonists blessed with cheats. But no matter how much he tried, there was nothing.
Disappointed, he accepted reality. Without a system, pursuing an NBA career was pointless. Better to plan for business, use his knowledge of the future, and live the good life.
Yet here it was, activating the moment he finally stepped onto the floor of an NBA Finals game.
His so-called dream of becoming a billionaire? Shattered in an instant.
With this system, he wouldn't just survive in the NBA—he could dominate it.
Moonlight or bread? Why not both? He could chase the moon while keeping the sixpence in his pocket.
"What kind of system is this Kuroko's Basketball System?" Jiang Chen asked cautiously.
The cold, mechanical voice responded without delay.
[This is a basketball system constructed from the abilities and framework of the anime Kuroko no Basuke.]
Jiang Chen blinked, then his lips slowly curled upward. Excitement surged through him like an electric current.
Too awesome!
He knew that anime by heart. Every character in it possessed skills bordering on the supernatural, moves that bent the rules of real-world basketball. To wield even one of them in the NBA…
His pulse raced.
"Claim reward!" he shouted inwardly, without a second thought.
At once, visions flashed before his eyes. Kuroko Tetsuya's Vanishing Drive, Kagami Taiga's Meteor Jam, Kise Ryota's Perfect Copy, Aomine Daiki's Formless Shot—one after another, their images appeared in his mind. Each move radiated impossible brilliance, a fusion of anime spectacle and raw basketball genius.
His anticipation peaked.
A glowing light screen unfolded within his consciousness. Text streamed across it.
Kuroko's Basketball System
Host: Jiang Chen
Height: 201 cm
Weight: 98 kg
Overall Physique: 79
Skills: None
Items:
Atsushi Murasakibara's Physical Talent (Perfect Level)
Tsugawa Tomoki's Strongest Wall (Advanced)
Aomine Daiki Skill Experience Card (includes Super High-Speed Dribbling, Formless Shot, Wild Instinct) — Duration: 5 minutes
Shintaro Midorima: Rainbow Three-Pointer, Full-Court Range Shot, Alley-Oop Three-Pointer (Choose one, all Advanced)
Achievement Points: 0
Skill Fusion Shards: 0
Jiang Chen's eyes widened. He stared at the list as if struck by lightning.
His novice gift pack alone was loaded with powerhouses' abilities.
A complete Perfect-Level Physical Talent from Murasakibara—the anime's immovable tower. Defensive mastery in the form of Tsugawa's Strongest Wall. A limited-time card for Aomine's speed, Wild Instinct, and impossible angles scoring ability. And finally, Midorima's arsenal of miracle three-pointers.
Jiang Chen stood frozen on the parquet floor, stunned into silence.
This… this is a god-tier start!
Jiang Chen's pulse raced. With a thought, detailed descriptions of the skills unfolded in his mind one by one.
[Murasakibara Atsushi's Physical Talent]
A member of the Generation of Miracles, possessing physical abilities and reflexes far beyond ordinary humans!
After fusion: obtain Murasakibara Atsushi's Static Physical Talent (focused on strengthening strength and reflexes).
Initial level: Perfection.
Fusion degree: up to 100%.
[Tsugawa Tomoki's Strongest Wall]
Seihō's defensive ace, nicknamed the "Strongest Wall." His defense suffocates opponents, forcing them into awkward shots under heavy pressure. Against less disciplined players, his relentless marking can push them into frustration, even baiting unnecessary fouls.
[Midorima Shintarō's Rainbow Three-Pointer / Full-Court Range Shot / Alley-Oop Three-Pointer]
A member of the Generation of Miracles, an alien when it comes to three-point shooting.
Rainbow Three-Pointer: After fusion, shooting range extends to half-court. Initial level: Advanced. Fusion rate: 60%. Shooting percentage: 60%.
Full-Court Range Shot: After fusion, the shooting range extends across the full court. Initial level: Advanced. Fusion rate: 40%. Shooting percentage: 40%.
Alley-Oop Three-Pointer: After fusion, the player gains the ability to make alley-oop three-pointers. Initial level: Advanced. Fusion rate: 60%. Shooting percentage: 60%.
[Aomine Daiki Basketball Skill Trial Card]
The ace of the Generation of Miracles, the scoring machine of Teikō Junior High School. Skills include super high-speed dribbling, unpredictable shooting, Wild Instinct, and natural Zone entry.
Effect: Use to gain all of Aomine Daiki's skills. Duration: 5 minutes.
Jiang Chen read through the descriptions, his eyes burning.
It was obvious that some abilities had been weakened by the system, while others had been rebalanced or improved. But even so, these skills were abnormal enough.
Murasakibara Atsushi's physical talent was one of the most terrifying in the anime, a power he normally concealed because he didn't want to hurt others. Yet when facing Jason Silver — the man said to have the "Body Chosen by God" — Murasakibara had unleashed his full strength and completely suppressed him.
Tsugawa Tomoki's Strongest Wall was known as the most suffocating one-on-one defense, even capable of obstructing members of the Generation of Miracles. Though the skill came from a relatively minor character, its effectiveness was top-tier and extremely practical.
As for Midorima Shintarō's arsenal, his abilities had been altered the most by the system. In the anime, Midorima's full-court shooting had a 100% success rate, a bug that defied reason. Here, the numbers had been toned down, yet they were still outrageous compared to reality.
And then there was Aomine Daiki's trial card. For five minutes, he could wield the genius of Teikō's ace — a nightmare combination of blinding speed, impossible shot angles, and seamless entry into the Zone. It was the very definition of a trump card.
Jiang Chen steadied himself and gave the command.
"System — fuse Murasakibara Atsushi's Physical Talent, Tsugawa Tomoki's Strongest Wall, and Midorima Shintarō's Rainbow Three-Pointer!"
Light flared as the chosen powers began to merge.
His decision was made. Among Midorima's three skills, the Rainbow Three-Pointer was the most practical. The Full-Court Range Shot looked amazing, but with only a 40% hit rate, it was unreliable and more show than substance. Who would waste possessions by firing blindly from the backcourt?
The Alley-Oop Three-Pointer was spectacular but too situational. It required a passer with inhuman precision, something he couldn't count on.
The Rainbow Three, however, was a weapon he could always rely on — a shot with a 60% success rate from anywhere within half-court, rising so high into the air that defenders could only watch helplessly.
That was the offensive tool he needed most.
"Sixty percent within half-court…" Jiang Chen whispered.
Even Stephen Curry — the future three-point GOAT who would transform the NBA itself — had never once broken the 50% mark from deep at his peak.
Now Jiang Chen had stepped onto the court armed with something even deadlier.
...
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the fusion!]
The system's voice echoed in Jiang Chen's mind.
He immediately felt the changes within his body and couldn't hold back a laugh. A tidal surge of raw power filled every muscle. His arms felt heavier, denser, his legs spring-loaded with terrifying force.
This… this is insane.
His physical condition had undergone a complete transformation. He was no longer just a benchwarmer; his body now carried a presence that could rival the strongest in the league.
For a moment, Jiang Chen pictured it: an outside player possessing the brute force of "The Great Shark" Shaquille O'Neal, colliding with opponents head-on. Guards, forwards, even centers—none would be able to withstand that kind of impact.
Opponents would be crushed, plain and simple.
He checked the system panel again.
After fusing Murasakibara Atsushi's Physical Talent, his overall physique rating had skyrocketed to 89 — a full ten-point leap.
…
Beep!
The referee's whistle yanked him back to reality.
Though it had felt like a long dialogue in his mind, only a few seconds had passed in the real world. On the floor, his teammates were already lined up at the sideline, preparing to inbound.
Jiang Chen hurried into position. But unlike before, his entire body radiated a new kind of energy — confidence.
He couldn't wait to unleash the power of Kuroko's Basketball in the real NBA.
At that very moment, the system chimed again.
[Ding! Host is about to begin official play. First mission generated!]
[Mission: Lead the Lakers to a comeback.]
[Reward: 3000 Achievement Points, 50 Skill Fusion Fragments.]
[Note: Achievement Points can be used for lottery draws. Fusion Fragments can be used to upgrade existing skills.]
[Special Benefit: Since this is the system's first mission, completing it will also grant a bonus Lucky Draw.]
The mechanical voice faded.
Jiang Chen raised his head, eyes locking on the scoreboard.
60–93.
A thirty-three point deficit.
Ten minutes left.
The situation was desperate—almost impossible.
But impossible was exactly what he had come here for.
His fists tightened. We'll have to attack like maniacs. Only then do we have a chance.
...
CCTV-5 Live Broadcast
At the commentary table sat the familiar duo — Yang Jian and Yang Yi, the "Two Yangs," carrying the call for millions of Chinese fans watching late into the night.
"Oh? Phil actually put Jiang Chen on the floor," Yang Jian remarked, a hint of resignation in his tone. "It seems the Lakers have completely given up on this one."
Yang Yi nodded. "Yeah, down by thirty-three… the game's already decided. There's no suspense left."
He let out a sigh before continuing, "At this point, all that's left is to see if Jiang Chen can make the most of these final minutes. Maybe he can leave a few good highlights."
Still, even as he said the words, Yang Yi's voice betrayed his lack of faith.
After all, the higher the expectations, the heavier the disappointment.
It was the same story they had seen before. Just like Yi Jianlian—once bursting with promise when he first entered the NBA, only to eventually return home to the CBA, unable to withstand the relentless physicality of the league.
Yang Yi's expression hardened. "I'm afraid Jiang Chen may not escape the same fate."