On the basketball court, time seemed to freeze as Zayden leapt into the air for a powerful dunk. The next moment, he crashed violently to the ground, his right wrist twisted at an unnatural angle, blood dripping from his fingertips and blooming into crimson flowers on the hardwood floor. “Ahh—!” The stands erupted in screams. Some covered their children’s eyes, others frantically filmed with their phones, while most stood frozen, watching what felt like a nightmare they couldn’t pause. The wail of an ambulance tore through the dusk, its wheels rolling over the spot where he had fallen, leaving behind a smeared trail of blood. In the hospital corridor, the stench of disinfectant choked the air. The doctor removed his mask, voice cold and clinical: “Severe blood loss, open fracture, nerve damage. Consider yourself lucky if we can save the hand.” The father slumped in his seat, eyes red-rimmed. “As long as he’s alive… I’ll find a way to pay.” Before the words fully settled, an elderly man stepped out from the shadows—silver-haired, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, gold-rimmed glasses glinting with a warmth that felt too polished to be real. “The medical expenses,” he said gently, “I’ll cover them. I’m a representative of the ‘Generous Family,’ dedicated to helping young talents like Zayden reach their full potential.” The father broke into tearful gratitude. But in the bed, Zayden lay wide awake, eyes locked onto the chain in the old man’s hand— his necklace, which should have been locked inside a locker room drawer. Now it rested calmly in the stranger’s palm, the clasp slightly ajar, as if opened by someone’s deliberate touch. [Suddenly, lines flashed across his mind like drifting danmaku:] [#003: He didn’t come here to save anyone.] [#004: Three years ago, during that championship game, the hand was broken the same way.] [#005: Same necklace. Same night. The cycle has begun again.] Zayden jolted upright, sweat-soaked hospital gown clinging to his skin. Memories surged— He’d never been injured. That day, he had won. Someone had drugged his water bottle. And the referee… wore the exact same cufflinks as this “philanthropist.” Outside, the night swallowed the world whole. The light above flickered erratically. The old man stood in the doorway, voice soft as silk: “Rest well. Don’t think about playing anymore.” “You’re not worthy… not anymore.” Zayden clenched his mangled right hand, nails digging into his palms. No. He would return. Not just to the court. But to the truth. To every stolen victory, every lost year. Yet this time, he wasn’t sure—was he the prey… or the bait? Ethan and Dylan are the sons of the renowned basketball coach Ray. When they were five years old, they were involved in a car accident. Ethan's stepmother drained his blood to save her own son, Dylan, and abandoned him. Fortunately, a paint worker named Hank adopted Ethan. Thirteen years later, Ethan has become a very talented basketball player. Meanwhile, Dylan and Ray have been looking for him all along. They met on the basketball court...