The ultimate goal was to imprison it. A misdemeanor was what fueled the purpose. With steady steps, he approached—his approach was deliberate and measured.
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Experience is the legacy of trials; that’s what he had learned since he lost his first match. When defeat struck him against his rival in the game—one he barely even considered a game—despair began to take its toll on him.
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It wasn’t wrong to say that he had faced them alone, one against many. But the issue wasn’t a matter of being outnumbered—it was cheating.
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Yes… His maneuvers countered their strategies and broke their resolve. And when their determination ran dry, they resorted to cheating. If only experience had done its job, victory would have been certain.
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But today was not like yesterday. He took it upon himself to train and make up for his shortcomings, turning his weaknesses into strengths. The sun had risen and set countless times since his first training session.
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He arrived at the court, where the ball before him embodied deception itself. It bounced upward, then settled downward, only to strike the ceiling and repeat the motion—while he watched, unshaken, without the slightest trace of tension.
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The ultimate goal was to imprison it. A misdemeanor was what fueled the purpose. With steady steps, he approached—his approach was deliberate and measured.
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Then, in mere moments, he seized the ball, surpassing the bounds of the ordinary, and with a powerful leap, he sent it into the basket.
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Cheating had been imprisoned—its jailer was skill, and its prison was the hoop.
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