Staples Center detonated.
Twenty-one thousand fans exploded.
The women’s screams cut especially sharp, eyes locked on the shredded muscle of Rex’s back and the violent core control he showed while hanging in the air.
Front-row VIP.
Twenty-year-old Taylor Swift and same-age Emma Watson both sat wide-eyed, frozen.
“Oh my God.” Emma recovered first.
The young witch who had just finished filming the final Harry Potter movie had zero elegant British restraint left.
“Taylor, that power… the way he controls his core in the air is ridiculous.” “That body, that explosion, that stamina—whoever ends up as his girlfriend is going to suffer every night.” Taylor’s pale cheeks flushed instantly at the blunt American teasing, but the shyness still carried clear interest.
“I… wouldn’t mind suffering that particular way.” Emma raised an eyebrow, bumped her shoulder, and the two shared a quiet laugh as the game continued.
Ohio State possession.
Number-two overall Evan Turner pushed the ball up.
College Turner was a budget Michael Jordan—balanced length, silky handle, mid-range machine, and the best isolation creator in the entire tournament.
Paul George stayed glued to him.
Turner hit a hard change of pace, spun into a fadeaway jumper, and knocked it down clean.
“Beautiful isolation mid-range from Evan Turner.” Kenny Smith nodded from the TNT booth.
“Have to give it up.
Turner’s one-on-one game is elite right now.” “Paul George’s defense is solid, but he still can’t fully contain peak Evan Turner.
Right now Turner is the best small forward in the NCAA.” Fresno answered in the half-court.
Rex and Lauderdale went to work on the block.
Lauderdale’s size, weight, and strength were almost identical to the already-destroyed Derrick Favors.
Rex caught, settled his hips, and simply leaned.
No fancy footwork.
One hard spin and the Destructive Hammer fired.
BOOM.
Lauderdale’s center of gravity vanished.
He stumbled backward.
Rex turned and dropped the easy lay-in with pure simplicity.
4–2.
Two possessions later Turner again attacked George, used contact to create space, and finished at the rim.
The back-and-forth stayed tight.
George’s patience started fraying on defense, but on the next possession he reset.
Seeing the double already forming on Rex, he rose into a contested side pass and delivered a perfect lob over the top.
Rex left the floor from a standstill, ignored both defenders, and hammered a two-handed poster through them.
KRA-BOOM——!!
The rim shook.
The crowd rose again.
The score kept climbing, the gap never stretching beyond a possession or two.
“Both teams are giving us a pure offensive shootout,” Barkley said, eyes narrowed.
“But I see what Turner’s doing.
He’s already read the entire situation.” “He’s playing like a slick assassin—using screens, mid-range floaters, and pull-ups.
Staying outside Rex’s absolute domain.” “Exactly.
In plain English, he’s avoiding Rex.” Kenny Smith took over, voice full of respect.
“Smartest approach so far.
He’s the first player in this entire tournament to actually trade punches with Rex instead of getting buried.” “Monroe, Favors—those guys got completely erased.
No answers.” “Turner is playing to his strengths, stretching the floor, and neutralizing Rex’s rim protection.” Fans who had bought tickets specifically for Rex started gripping their seats.
The entire building tightened.
The same thought ran through thousands of minds at once: Is Evan Turner the first genius who can actually break Rex’s undefeated March Madness run?
Final thirty seconds of the half.
Fresno led 48–47 by one.
Rex already sat at a ridiculous 29 points and 15 rebounds.
One more make and he would crack thirty for the half.
Turner attacked again.
He sold the drive, froze George with a hesitation, then stepped sideways into a short floater in the paint—the closest shot he had attempted all half.
The ball rose toward the glass.
Rex, roaming the weak side, exploded laterally.
One long arm shot upward.
Every ounce of force gathered in his palm.
Slap——!!
The rejection was nuclear.
The ball did not drop nearby.
The sheer force launched it on a towering arc that cleared the entire court and smashed onto the mid-court logo.
Twenty-one thousand people went dead silent.
A paint block that traveled all the way to half-court.
No one had ever seen anything like it.
One second of pure shock—then the arena erupted into pure chaos.
Before anyone could process the rejection, the 7’1″, 265-pound frame was already gone.
Rex’s first step erased the entire floor.
By the time Turner landed, they were side-by-side.
Three strides later Rex had a full half-body lead.
The speed difference was visible to the naked eye.
The entire frontcourt was empty.
Rex reached the free-throw line, rose in one motion, fully extended, and hammered a two-handed slam with that absurd hang time.
BOOM——!!
50–47.
Across the Pacific, Ke Fan’s voice completely shattered.
“Rex just turned a paint rejection into a full-court one-man fast break and free-throw-line dunk!!” “Blocked it from under the rim all the way to half-court, then the center outran everyone for the slam!!” “Another historic signature play is born right here!” Exactly as Ke Fan said, Rex now owned four exclusive trademarks: 1.
Opening tip-off guided alley-oop.
2.
Free-throw brick into 2+2 putback dunk.
3.
Catch-and-spin Destructive Hammer through contact.
4.
Mid-court rejection into full-court one-man break.
Su Qun’s voice stayed lower but carried real weight.
“NBA stars need signature moments to break through.
Duncan’s bank shot.
Dirk’s one-legged fade.
Kobe’s turnaround.
Parker’s spin.” “Rex already has four of them.
This is what a future superstar looks like in the cradle.” Ohio State missed on the final possession.
The halftime horn sounded.
Rex’s half-line locked in at 31 points, 15 rebounds, 4 blocks, and 2 assists.
Thirty-one and fifteen in a single half.
New March Madness record for half-game scoring.
First player in tournament history to post 30-plus and 15-plus before the break.
Courtside, Lakers section.
Kobe watched Rex with genuine interest, then turned to Pau Gasol.
“Pau, you’re still one of the best passing bigs in the league.” “If next season you and Rex formed the Lakers’ twin towers… what would that feel like?” Gasol went completely still.
After a long moment he gave a bitter little smile and shook his head.
“Kobe, then we wouldn’t be the feared Kobe-and-Pau duo anymore.” “Why?” Kobe blinked.
“You and him would become the new OK Combination.” Gasol’s voice was quiet.
“And I would just be a role player.”