The night fell like a thin veil, shrouding the entire city.
On a street in the Rose District—where a middle-class neighborhood bordered the Black district—countless Black men roamed under the cover of darkness.
Qin Zayne walked slowly. Even though he also came from the bottom of society, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at this moment.
Mainly because the men around him were like ghosts, appearing suddenly and without warning.
As he continued forward and neared his destination, the number of people around him increased.
A tall, fierce-looking man noticed Qin Zayne and walked straight toward him.
Qin Zayne frowned. Panic filled his heart, but his expression instantly turned cold and fierce.
When the man's gaze locked onto him like that of a wild dog, Qin Zayne did not back down.
"Is there a problem?" he asked firmly.
The man grinned, revealing a row of white teeth that stood out sharply in the darkness.
"You're in the wrong place, Asian guy."
Qin Zayne stood his ground. "Isn't this the place? The Midnight League?"
The man was startled. "You're here for the Midnight League?"
He looked Qin Zayne up and down, clearly doubtful of his slight frame.
Qin Zayne shrugged. "What? Never seen someone like me participate in the Midnight League?"
The man laughed again. "I have, actually. That Spoelstra kid is Asian too—skinny like you, though a bit taller."
"Then that settles it, doesn't it?"
Qin Zayne rolled his eyes and slipped past him, heading straight toward his destination—the Portland Midnight League court.
As he walked, he pondered the name the man had just mentioned.
Spoelstra?
"Could it be Erik Spoelstra?"
It seemed very likely. Spoelstra was of Filipino descent, and in his previous life, Qin Zayne had read his biography. It mentioned that he grew up in Portland.
After entering the venue, Qin Zayne quickly spotted the Stoudamire father and son.
As the founders of the Midnight League, they naturally drew everyone's attention.
Qin Zayne decided to observe from the sidelines first. While watching Damon Stoudamire, he activated his system and used Slot 1 of the "Super Training Master" to bind with him.
His goal for this trip was simple: to use the system to provide professional guidance to the Little Flying Squirrel.
In his mind, the "Super Training Master" could rapidly improve a player's abilities, so its advice would surely be extremely powerful.
Perhaps, with this, UNC could pull off a comeback in recruiting him.
The moment the binding was completed—
"Hm? An Asian face?"
Qin Zayne snapped out of the system and turned his head.
A young Erik Spoelstra stood beside him.
It really was him.
"You're one too," Qin Zayne said.
Spoelstra shook his head. "No, it's different. I'm a regular here."
He looked at Qin Zayne with curiosity. "You're new…"
Qin Zayne introduced himself. "Swann Qin, from UNC."
"An NCAA recruiter? UNC or NC State?" Spoelstra asked sharply.
He was clearly very perceptive, immediately guessing Qin Zayne's identity.
"UNC," Qin Zayne confirmed.
"And you?"
"Erik Spoelstra. I'm still in college—playing for the University of Portland Pilots."
At that time, Spoelstra was the starting point guard, but the school's level wasn't high, and even as a main playmaker, he had no real NBA prospects.
In his past life, Qin Zayne knew that Spoelstra would go on to work in Europe as a player-coach before eventually joining the Heat as a video analyst through his connection with Jack Ramsay.
After introductions, Spoelstra continued:
"You're here for Damon, right? UNC has a chance based on reputation… but he probably won't go."
Qin Zayne looked at him in surprise. Spoelstra's words felt almost prophetic.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because he's even considering the University of Portland," Spoelstra replied. "That means he doesn't want to go far. UNC is practically across the country."
Qin Zayne gave a bitter smile.
Spoelstra had hit the point exactly.
Prestige could outweigh many things—but distance was still a major issue.
Still, sometimes distance is the least important factor.
That was why Qin Zayne was here—to make one final attempt.
"That's how recruiting works," Qin Zayne said. "You don't give up until you're rejected."
Spoelstra smirked. "So, you have another plan?"
"Of course."
Soon, the Midnight League game began.
Damon Stoudamire—the Little Flying Squirrel—took the court.
Qin Zayne appeared to watch casually, but in reality, he had already accessed a detailed system report:
[Damon Stoudamire
Height: 178 cm
Position: Point Guard
Strengths: Exceptional speed, explosiveness, and leaping ability; highly efficient left-handed offense.
Weaknesses: Limited height caps his potential; weak defense.]
[Advanced Report:
At 18, his height is unlikely to increase. His physical limitations are difficult to overcome.
His speed and explosiveness are best utilized in fast breaks. His half-court offense is weak. Without improvement, he may only succeed on weaker teams.
Due to his reliance on speed and lack of size, there is a high risk of injury.
Recommendation: Improve shooting ability to reduce reliance on athleticism.]
[Specific Measures:
Increase shooting practice, correct shooting form, and study game footage to improve court vision.]
Qin Zayne was stunned.
"As expected of the Super Training Master…"
The level of detail exceeded his expectations.
Beside him, Spoelstra misunderstood his reaction.
"You… it's not that serious, is it?"
Qin Zayne didn't explain.
Instead, during a break, he walked toward the court.
Spoelstra followed, curious.
"We meet again, Damon."
The Little Flying Squirrel widened his eyes. "You? The UNC recruiter…"
His father, Old Willie, quickly approached as well.
"Mr. Qin, how did you find us? Didn't I say we need time to think?"
His tone wasn't very friendly.
Qin Zayne shook his head. "I'm not here to recruit. Just here to watch… and maybe offer some advice as an NCAA coach."
"Advice?" Old Willie looked doubtful.
Qin Zayne remained calm.
"I've just watched Damon play. Right now, he has two major issues."
No one objected.
After all, Qin Zayne—an assistant coach from a prestigious program—had higher status than a high school graduate like Damon.
"First—your shooting form," Qin Zayne said.
He picked up a basketball and demonstrated step by step.
"Because of your height, you need a higher, more stable release. It helps avoid defenders and improves control."
After showing him, he said:
"Try it."
Damon hesitated but took the shot.
Clang.
Miss.
"Shoot a few more. Find the rhythm," Qin Zayne called out.
Damon kept shooting.
On the third attempt—swish.
Then three more in a row.
His face lit up.
"It actually works!"
Qin Zayne smiled confidently. "Of course."
Then he continued:
"Second—your playstyle is too limited. Too many fast breaks. In half-court situations, you don't have enough options."
Damon nodded seriously.
"How do I fix it?"
"Study game footage. Improve your court vision," Qin Zayne explained.
"For example, earlier—you forced a drive. But your teammate on the left was already open. If you had noticed, you could've created an easy scoring chance."
Damon was convinced.
Qin Zayne then narrowed his eyes and smiled.
"My analysis isn't bad, right?"
Damon nodded again.
That was when Qin Zayne revealed his real intention:
"If you choose UNC, I'll personally review every game with you. I'll use your own footage to improve your vision—and help you become the greatest point guard in NCAA history."
Old Willie laughed.
"Kid, didn't you say you weren't here to recruit?"
Meanwhile, Spoelstra stood nearby, completely stunned.
He had never seen a coach like this before.
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