Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

On the opening day of the National Tournament, the area outside the Kyoto General Gymnasium was already packed with people.

This gigantic venue, capable of accommodating tens of thousands of spectators, was twice as large as the Hokkaido General Gymnasium.

The silver-gray dome shimmered with a cold gloss under the early summer sunlight, and a huge banner hung at the entrance.

"The 45th National Junior High School Basketball Championship", written in white characters on a red background, was particularly eye-catching.

Eighty-six qualifying teams from the forty-seven prefectures across Japan gathered here.

In the exact center of the venue, colorful team uniforms converged into a flowing ocean.

Tokyo's White, Kanagawa's Red, Osaka's Blue, Kyushu's Black...

Behind every single team was the strongest combat power of a region.

The air was filled with the scents of sweat, detergent, and the unique hormones of youths, mixed with faint tension and a desire to fight.

"So many people..."

Aizawa Ryo followed behind the team, looking at the densely packed participating teams on the court, and couldn't help muttering softly.

Playing games in Hokkaido before, there were at most a dozen or over twenty teams; when had he ever seen such a battle formation?

Looking as far as the eye could see, there were all tall and long-legged basketball players, each with sharp eyes and full aura, making people feel a considerable amount of pressure just by standing there.

"Don't panic." Asano Shu lowered his voice, "We are the Hokkaido champions, we cannot lose in terms of momentum."

Although he said that, his own palms unconsciously began to sweat.

This was the National Tournament!

Any team casually picked out from here might be even stronger than Hokkyu Junior High and Mubei Junior High.

Only Zijing Cheng, walking at the very back of the team, still maintained that sleepy look.

With his hands shoved into his athletic pants pockets, secretly holding a lemon hard candy in his mouth, his cheeks slightly puffed up, his eyelids half-drooping, and his steps leisurely, he looked as if he weren't here to attend the opening ceremony of the National Tournament, but rather like a sleepy person about to go to sleep and looking for an empty bed.

His iconic short purple hair, coupled with his outstanding height of 188 cm, made him particularly eye-catching in the crowd.

Almost the moment Tomakomai Junior High appeared, dozens of gazes were cast from around.

"Is that the champion of Hokkaido? Tomakomai Junior High?"

"Is that the legendary purple-haired center? The one walking at the back?"

"That's him? He looks way too ordinary!"

"He completely looks like he hasn't woken up yet; is he really as amazing as the rumors say?"

...

Whispers drifted over with the wind, carrying undisguised curiosity and scrutiny.

Over the past few days, rumors of the "Mysterious Center of Hokkaido" had already spread among all participating teams.

Some said he was over two meters tall, some said he could grow three arms, and others said he was a conjoined twin with two heads.

Everyone had imagined the appearance of this "Paint Behemoth" countless times; he should have been a ferocious-looking monster with knotted muscles, fierce eyes, and a natural sense of oppression the moment he stood up.

But the purple-haired teenager before them was tall and thin, his shoulders weren't particularly broad, there was little expression on his face, and he even carried a hint of sleepiness, chewing something in his mouth. All over his body exuded a lazy and decadent vibe.

This was way too far off from the "Shutout Monster" in the rumors!

Not far away, in the team of Tokyo Chengdong Junior High, ace Fujiwara Takuya crossed his arms, swept his gaze over Zijing Cheng, and sneered.

"Just this?" His tone was full of disdain, "I thought he was some figure with three heads and six arms; he looks like he hasn't woken up. As expected, he was blown out of proportion by the countryside, all show and no substance."

A nearby teammate chimed in: "Exactly, looking so frail, what kind of defense could he have? Hokkyu Junior High and Mubei Junior High must have really regressed to lose to such a team."

Coach Suzuki, however, frowned, his gaze locked tightly onto Zijing Cheng's arms and legs.

"Don't be careless," he said in a deep voice, "Look at his Achilles tendons and arm span; his static talent is extremely exaggerated. Players who look lazy like this are often the most terrifying."

Fujiwara Takuya curled his lips without refuting, but the contempt in his eyes didn't decrease by even a fraction.

In his view, the National Tournament spoke through strength, not height and hair color.

On the other side.

In the team of Kanagawa Kamakura Junior High, center Matsumoto Kenta was also sizing up Zijing Cheng.

Standing at 186 cm, he was already considered top-tier height among junior high schoolers, but compared to Zijing Cheng, he was still half a head shorter.

"188 cm... indeed very tall." Matsumoto Kenta clenched his fists, his eyes filled with a fighting spirit, "But being just tall is useless. Basketball isn't a comparison of height; I want to see if his defense is really as absurd as the rumors say."

The coach patted his shoulder: "It never hurts to be careful. Being able to come here is not simply a matter of good luck."

The point guard of Osaka Dongfang Junior High was also muttering to his teammate: "Is that him? Shutting out Mubei Junior High? Looking so lazy, can he keep up with our speed?"

"Hard to say," the coach shook his head, "Mubei Junior High's fast breaks aren't slow either, yet they were still shut out. We'll find out when we play them."

Gazes filled with curiosity, contempt, scrutiny, and wariness densely fell upon Zijing Cheng.

Yet the person in question was completely oblivious.

Zijing Cheng was intently sucking on the candy in his mouth, the sweet and sour lemon flavor spreading across the tip of his tongue, tasting not bad.

The surrounding gazes and discussions didn't register in his mind at all.

To him, these people were no different from telephone poles on the street, not worth wasting his attention on.

Soon, staff members guided the teams to enter sequentially, lining up by region in the center of the court.

Inside the huge gymnasium, the stands were seventy to eighty percent full, camera flashes flickered incessantly, and cheers and shouts mixed together, making people's ears ring.

The opening ceremony officially began.

First was playing the national anthem, and the entire venue stood solemnly.

Immediately followed by guest speeches and remarks from the organizers.

At first, the players off the stage were still standing straight, with solemn expressions, listening carefully to the speeches on stage.

After all, it was the opening ceremony of the National Tournament, maxed out with a sense of ritual, and everyone harbored a bit of excitement and solemnity in their hearts.

But as soon as one finished speaking, another came up.

The leaders on stage held thick speech drafts, reading them leisurely, ranging from the developmental significance of basketball sports to the importance of youth sports, and then to the preparatory work of this tournament. Clichés came one after another, lengthy and tedious.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty minutes passed.

Half an hour passed.

The speeches on stage were still continuing, as if there was no end in sight.

The players off the stage gradually couldn't hold on anymore.

Their originally straight standing posture began to slouch; some secretly shifted their weight to the other foot, some quietly moved their numb ankles, and some had vacant eyes, their faces filled with despair.

"Why haven't they finished speaking yet..."

Kurosaki Daigo stood in the team, his legs practically stiffening from standing, furiously complaining in his heart.

Isn't it just an opening ceremony?

Did they need to talk for so long?

Asano Shu also frowned inwardly.

He was quite excited at first, but now that excitement had long been worn away, leaving only the fatigue and boredom of standing.

Aizawa Ryo's eyelids were fighting even more, barely holding on to avoid yawning.

Not just Xiayaozhi, other teams weren't doing much better.

The basketball youths who were usually full of life and jumping around were now all standing with sore waists and aching backs, looking at the endlessly talking leaders on stage, with only one thought in their hearts.

When will this ever end?

I really want to go up there and stuff that speaker's mouth with a stinky sock.