For the Win.

Last season, the Boston Celtics were just one game away from winning the championship. Now, with Han Sen leaving the Cavaliers and Cleveland's strength significantly weakened, there was no team in the Eastern Conference capable of stopping them.

As for the West?

The Pelicans had been swept in the Finals, proving they weren't on Boston's level. The Rockets still had Chris Paul, who had a habit of disappearing in crucial moments. The Kings had Han Sen, but the rest of their roster was still young and developing.

The only real threat to the Celtics was the Warriors, but they had their own issues with roster chemistry heading into the new season.

So when Kevin Durant said he was confident, it wasn't arrogance—it was just the truth.

And when he publicly thanked Han Sen? He wasn't wrong there either. If Han hadn't left Cleveland, the Celtics would've been lucky to last another season before collapsing under the pressure—just like the Miami Heat years ago.

"Good luck, then," Han said, offering Durant a rare moment of goodwill.

On the court, they had always been rivals, but in this world, Durant deserved a championship at some point.

---

By late August, Han wrapped up his summer training camp and made his annual return to China.

Over the years, these visits had grown into full-scale events. Airports turned into chaotic scenes with thousands of fans waiting just to catch a glimpse of him. Billboards featuring his face stretched across major cities.

Han wasn't just an NBA superstar. He was China's biggest sports icon.

After completing his usual commitments—sponsorship appearances, charity events, and basketball clinics—Han flew to Jakarta with Yao Ming to watch the Asian Games Final in person.

Since becoming the head of the Chinese Basketball Association, Yao Ming had focused on two major initiatives.

First, youth basketball development.

He had established national youth leagues across different age levels, ensuring a steady pipeline of talent. Basketball was wildly popular in China, but the number of players who actually registered professionally remained too low.

Yao couldn't change the national system, but he could change the environment.

Second, the "Red and Blue" team system.

This model split the national team into two competing squads, allowing players and coaches to develop through alternating tournaments. The approach had worked well so far, helping China maintain dominance in Asia.

But Han already knew the real test was coming.

The 2019 FIBA Basketball World Cup.

In his past life, one mistake had cost them everything—a single inbound play that led to a heartbreaking collapse.

The result?

A devastated Yi Jianlian, a national team that failed its biggest test, and Yao Ming taking the fall.

From that moment on, Yao's policies were dismantled, his power was stripped away, and he ultimately resigned in disappointment.

But this time?

History was changing.

Basketball wasn't a one-man sport.

But when the best player in the world was on your side?

Your floor wasn't competing.

Your floor was contending.

---

Even though the game was in Indonesia, the arena was packed with Chinese fans.

They weren't just there for the national team.

They were there for Han.

As the players warmed up, Han casually strolled onto the court, grabbed a ball, and threw down a windmill dunk.

The arena erupted.

Ding Yanyuhang, standing near the free-throw line, shook his head with a grin. "You trying to steal the show before the game even starts?"

Han smirked. "Just making sure the crowd stays warm."

Zhou Qi, standing nearby, nudged Ding. "Man, this is crazy. People used to joke about Jordan joining the Chinese national team. Now? We've got someone even better."

Ding chuckled. "Yeah. Guess we're about to see how good we really are."

Because next year, there would be no excuses.

With Han Sen joining them for the 2019 World Cup, the standard wasn't just improvement.

The standard was winning.

---

The game itself was a slaughter.

Whether it was the energy from Han's presence or just the team being locked in, China dominated from the opening tip.

Ding Yanyuhang set the tone early, drilling a step-back three over his defender.

Zhou Qi controlled the paint, swatting two shots on back-to-back possessions.

Zou Yuchen, the rookie big man recently drafted by the Rockets, rolled hard to the rim and finished through contact.

By halftime, the game was already over.

When the final buzzer sounded, China had secured the Asian Games gold medal in dominant fashion.

The players celebrated, hugging each other and waving toward the crowd.

But even in the midst of all that excitement, they kept glancing at one person.

Han.

They weren't just celebrating this win.

They were celebrating what was coming next.

---

After the trophy ceremony, Han and Yao stood near the baseline, watching the crowd slowly filter out.

Yao crossed his arms, scanning the sea of red jerseys still lingering in the stands.

"It's different now."

Han glanced at him. "What is?"

Yao exhaled. "We've always had great players. You know that. You grew up watching them. But no one ever believed we could be a real contender."

He turned to Han, his expression serious.

"They believe it now."

Han didn't reply, but the message was clear.

The expectation had changed.

With Han leading the way, China wasn't just here to compete.

They were here to win.

---

By September, Han returned to Sacramento.

After a short break, the Kings' training camp finally began.

For the first time, Han met his new teammates.

Many of them had been handpicked by him over the years, and he had played against some of them before. But just like how Golden 1 Center still felt unfamiliar, the Kings themselves were a team he had rarely paid attention to in his career.

Now?

They were his team.

And they would fight for that ultimate goal—together.

It was a strange feeling.

The energy in training camp was youthful, almost too youthful. For the first time, Han started to feel… old.

But the relaxed vibe didn't last long.

Because he arrived.

Under the glare of the arena lights, his bald head practically reflected a blinding shine.

Jeff Van Gundy.

The Kings' new assistant coach.

Van Gundy wasn't exactly a successful head coach. Like Lionel Hollins, he was stubborn and inflexible.

But as an assistant?

He was damn good.

He demanded intensity. He paid attention to details.

If this had been a team full of veterans, his presence might have sparked conflict.

But with a squad of young players?

It was exactly what they needed.

By the end of the first day, two players had left the strongest impression on Han.

Jayson Tatum.

And Willie Cauley-Stein.

Not because of their skills—because of their attitudes.

The Kings' young players treated Han like a living legend. They clung to him, soaking in every second like kids meeting their idol.

Except for Tatum.

Tatum kept his distance.

Was it because of the trade rumors? Did he think Han was going to push for him to be dealt?

Han thought back to last year's training camp. Tatum and Donovan Mitchell had both attended his personal workouts, but Tatum had kept that same distance even then.

He hadn't shown up this summer, either.

Something was going on.

But Han didn't care too much. His focus was on winning. Everything else? That was for other people to worry about.

Then there was Cauley-Stein.

His movement as a big man was elite. But his defensive mindset? Terrible.

Instead of anchoring the defense, he played more like Dwight Howard—setting a quick screen, rolling hard, and only thinking about finishing lobs.

That wasn't what the coaching staff wanted from him.

Van Gundy called him out for it.

He didn't seem to care.

Han noticed.

And on Day 2?

He targeted him.

Han requested to be put on the second unit.

And every time the Kings ran pick-and-rolls, Han hunted Cauley-Stein.

One play? Han caught a mismatch, drove straight at him, and threw down a vicious dunk over his head.

Cauley-Stein had moved his feet well. But Han's wingspan had made the contest impossible.

And when Han landed?

He didn't hold back.

"Four years in the league, and all you've learned is how to get dunked on?"

Cauley-Stein's face turned red.

His fists clenched.

If it had been anyone else?

He probably would've swung.

But against Han Sen?

All he could do was channel that anger into the game.

And when the next defensive play came?

He delivered.

A perfect switch onto Donovan Mitchell.

Staying step-for-step.

Timing it just right—

And sending Mitchell's layup flying into the stands.

Han smirked.

Now that was what the Kings needed from him.

---

Just when Han Sen thought things were moving in the right direction, Stein reverted to his old ways the very next day.

It was like he didn't want to do what he was best at—he only wanted to do what he felt like doing.

Han wasn't about to waste time catering to that. Without hesitation, he told Lue to send Stein to the second unit.

Forget potential. Forget fit next to Sabonis. If Stein didn't understand his role, he wasn't getting back into the starting lineup.

Stein wasn't the type to take things quietly. After spending several days stuck in the second unit, he finally found a moment to lash out.

During a scrimmage, he caught a quick pass from Bogdanović, took off, and hammered down a vicious two-handed slam over Sabonis. His athleticism was undeniable—when he was locked in, few big men could match his explosiveness.

But instead of just letting his game do the talking, he turned toward the sideline, his voice ringing across the gym.

"What else do I gotta do, Coach?"

Lue had been nodding, initially impressed by the dunk. The next second, he froze.

So did everyone else in the gym.

Stein wasn't just fired up—he was calling out the coaching staff.

For a moment, Lue hesitated. But before he could react, Han raised his hand and signaled the play dead.

"Enough. Get out."

The gym fell dead silent.

Lue opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped himself. Han's words weren't a suggestion—they were a command.

Even Stein, who had been puffing up his chest seconds ago, hesitated. Then, Rudy Gay stepped in, grabbing his arm and pulling him away before things could escalate.

That was the moment the young guys on the team truly understood—Han Sen might be easygoing off the court, but on it? There were no negotiations.

---

After practice, Lue pulled Han aside into his office.

"Han, I could've handled that a different way."

Han leaned against the desk, arms crossed.

"Maybe. But it wasn't just about Stein. It was about making it clear—you're the head coach. No one is pulling that sh*t under you."

Lue exhaled, rubbing his temples. He wasn't mad—if anything, he was more worried about how this would look.

"You know they're just waiting for another excuse to come after you, right? Every move you make is under a microscope."

Han smirked. "Let 'em watch. If Stein's got a problem, he can come to me directly."

Lue blinked, then slowly nodded.

Coming into this job, he thought Han only needed a "friendly" coach—someone to play along while he ran the show.

But after everything—Han's effort to bring in Van Gundy, how he treated Lue as an actual coach instead of just a puppet—it was clear he'd been wrong.

Han wasn't just setting himself up as the "real" leader of the team.

He genuinely wanted Lue to succeed as a head coach.

Lue exhaled and sat back in his chair. "Alright. I'll figure out what's going on with Stein. I'll handle it."

Han nodded. "Good. He's your problem now."

He turned to leave, but Lue stopped him.

"By the way... Jason's different from Stein. Kid's just got a stubborn streak."

Han narrowed his eyes. The way Lue said it felt... personal.

"What are you saying?"

Lue hesitated, then finally admitted, "Jason's my nephew. Well, cousin's kid, technically."

Han froze.

"Wait—Tatum is your family?"

Lue shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "Distant, but yeah."

Han shook his head. That was news to him. It wasn't quite the same as Rivers and Austin, but it was close.

"Look, Han," Lue continued, "I know how this looks. But I don't want anything special for Jason. Just don't group him with Stein. The kid listens… eventually."

Han thought for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But let's get one thing straight—I'm not here to play favorites. I don't care who it is—Jason, Stein, anyone. As long as they do their job, we're good. The only thing I give a damn about is winning."

Lue studied him for a long second, then finally nodded. "Yeah. I get that now."

Han walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Lue sat there for a moment, shaking his head.

A lot of people compared Han to LeBron—especially with how he was taking control of this team.

But this?

This wasn't LeBron's playbook.

LeBron built power to protect himself.

Han?

Han built power to win.

And that was the real difference.

---

If Cauley-Stein had actually challenged Han the way Han once challenged veterans as a rookie, Han would've welcomed it.

Because then, people would see—his authority on this team wasn't built on status or influence.

It was built on the fact that no one could touch him on the court.

Instead, Stein had let his frustration fester, waiting for someone else to fix his situation.

That's why he sat on the bench.

But a few days later, he returned to the starting lineup.

Not because he demanded it. Not because he forced his way back.

Because Lue convinced him.

Before making the move, Lue filled Han in on what was really going on with Stein.

He had always had a strong competitive drive. In his mind, his talent wasn't any less than DeMarcus Cousins'.

But after getting drafted by the Kings, he was left to develop on his own. There was no clear direction, and worse—he wasn't even getting proper minutes.

His first two seasons? He averaged just 21 and 19 minutes per game.

And this was as the 6th overall pick in the 2015 NBA Draft.

Cousins was only the 5th pick in his class, yet he was treated like a franchise cornerstone.

On top of that, every Kings coach—including this one—just wanted Cauley-Stein to be a defensive role player.

But what he wanted?

He wanted to be Cousins.

Lue's solution was simple. He promised Cauley-Stein consistent starter minutes and designed some offensive plays for him.

The truth was, the dunk over Sabonis already proved he had elite athleticism. If used properly, he could be a devastating lob threat in pick-and-roll sets.

But everything came with a condition—

He had to do what the coaching staff asked of him first.

One thing that often got overlooked? Cauley-Stein was the first of this young Kings core to face contract negotiations.

A pure defensive role player and a well-rounded starting center would get drastically different deals.

So of course, he wanted to put up stats.

Lue's compromise was the best possible solution outside of trading him.

Now, all that was left was to see if Cauley-Stein actually lived up to it.

If he still refused to adapt?

That's when Chris Wallace would step in and do his job.