Chapter Fifty-Seven: He’s Going for Another Dunk!

"Sidelines?" As soon as Ibaka finished speaking, Michael Wu turned his head to look. Over on the Jazz’s side, Coach Snyder could no longer bear it. Having Gordon Hayward lead the team alone was simply too much; though he still contributed offensively, their defense was suffering—Gobert was just too crucial. In this moment, the team’s advantage was about to vanish. Snyder didn’t care anymore; Rudy Gobert stood by the sidelines, ready to check back in at the next dead ball.

"Michael, go warm up," Vogel said, walking over to Wu before his attention had even shifted back. "You’ll be going in soon." After that, Vogel notified two other players to get ready—soon, they'd be substituted in as well.

"Coach Frank Vogel seems to have his own plan, even though they’ll soon face Rudy Gobert again," the commentator remarked, shaking his head at both teams’ rotations. "Michael Wu has become the true savior of the Magic tonight. He and Rudy Gobert will be the headline pairing for this evening."

Sure enough, the Magic’s shot was disrupted and went out of bounds; possession switched, and both sides made their substitutions. For the Jazz, Joe Johnson and Rudy Gobert replaced Hayward and Exum. On the Magic’s side, Jeff Green, Elfrid Payton, and Vucevic headed to the bench, while DJ Augustin, Ibaka, and Michael Wu entered the game.

"Shit!" Seeing the Magic’s number 0 high-five his teammates and step onto the court, Gobert couldn’t help but curse under his breath. Already frustrated from a controversial call, the Frenchman’s anger boiled over. If Wu played exactly as he had before, what was Gobert supposed to do? Watch him dunk? Or rush up foolishly and get called for another defensive foul?

Gobert was both angry and confused. As a defensive anchor, this shouldn’t be a problem he hesitated over. In the past, facing this kind of situation, he always had but one answer: use his long arms to declare the paint a no-fly zone. But now, facing Michael Wu, Gobert was uncertain.

Of course, this was only a defensive issue. On offense, Gobert’s long reach under the basket was a nightmare for the Magic. The injury-weakened Ibaka was no match for Gobert. With a simple extension of his arms, the French giant scored an easy two.

Yet scoring didn’t ease Gobert’s mind; his real challenge came facing the Magic’s offense.

"Double screen! Michael Wu charges straight to the rim, DJ Augustin passes, Michael takes off—two-handed dunk!" The commentator’s voice surged with excitement as Wu scored his fifth point of the night with effortless grace.

"Oh, you didn’t jump—I thought you’d surely try," Wu said as he landed, savoring the dunk and glancing at Gobert, who hadn’t even attempted to contest. "I jumped higher than before just to avoid your long arms!"

Higher still? Gobert didn’t reply, but Wu’s words pierced him deeply. If Wu’s earlier jumps weren’t his highest and had already drawn two defensive fouls, then if he went higher, wouldn’t Gobert become the unwitting star of a highlight reel?

Infuriated, Gobert felt mocked by this second-round pick, who seemed to taunt him for fearing another foul. There was no way Gobert could jump even a centimeter higher.

Fueled by anger, Gobert bulldozed the mismatched DJ Augustin in the paint, backing him down into the three-second area, spinning for a hook shot, and scoring—his eyes fixed fiercely on Michael Wu.

"Come on, kid, I’m waiting for you under the basket!" The fire in Gobert’s gaze sent a clear message to Wu, who smirked back. He had no intention of backing down.

The Orlando Magic, now rallying, moved with deliberate precision. DJ Augustin wouldn’t let Wu foolishly attempt to take on Gobert one-on-one, even though the team had benefited from that approach. He chose to play it safe.

But while DJ Augustin preferred caution, Ibaka was all for excitement. Catching a pass, Ibaka immediately handed the ball to Wu, eager to see if the rookie could force Gobert into another foul. If Wu succeeded, Gobert would reach five fouls before the fourth quarter even began—a disaster for the Jazz.

However, in his eagerness, Ibaka forgot the rookie’s glaring weakness: Wu’s fundamental skills were nearly nonexistent. Vogel had focused solely on Wu’s shooting, neglecting his ball handling. So there Wu stood outside the free throw line, utterly confused—his shooting was already shaky, and now he couldn’t possibly take a contested shot.

A dunk from here? Pure fantasy.

Suddenly, the court erupted in a comical scene: Ibaka passed to Wu, and two seconds later, Wu returned the ball to Ibaka.

"What are Michael and Serge doing? It’s as if they’re holding a bomb, not a basketball—it could explode at any moment!" The commentator burst out laughing at their antics. "This is just too amusing!"

This only increased Gobert’s irritation. For a player of this caliber to draw two fouls and still taunt him—it was a bitter pill for a defender renowned for his prowess.

Ibaka, too, was helpless. Wu’s awkwardness with the ball reminded him of the rookie’s lacking dribble skills. He quickly returned the ball to DJ Augustin, signaling the team to regroup.

But time was running out for Augustin; several attempted passes went nowhere, forcing the point guard to take a desperate shot. The ball clanged off the rim, missing entirely.

"Boom!" Beneath the basket, Gobert leaped, determined to secure every rebound and redeem himself from Wu’s earlier fouls.

"Whoosh!" But before Gobert could even touch the ball, the air seemed to shift beside him. Suddenly, a familiar yet unfamiliar figure soared skyward, snatching the ball ahead of him once again.

"It’s Michael! Michael Wu has grabbed another offensive rebound right over Rudy Gobert! My goodness, how many of Rudy’s rebounds has he stolen tonight?"

As Wu landed with the rebound, the commentator prepared to analyze his next possible pass—but then his eyes widened in surprise.

"Michael grabs the rebound—he doesn’t reset! What is he doing?"

"He’s jumping again! He’s about to dunk!"