Eric Turner wasn’t acting on impulse—he truly didn’t want to stay with the team any longer. As a coach, he couldn’t stand to watch one promising talent after another get destroyed right in front of him, while he was powerless to do anything about it. Falling out with Brian Cooper would definitely get him fired by the club, and for Eric Turner, who only had a middle school diploma, he really would have no choice but to do as Brian Cooper said and set up a street stall.

“Hey handsome, feeling lonely?”

In a bar in Dongguan, Eric Turner was drinking alone at the counter when a heavily made-up woman approached him.

“Heh, I may be handsome, but you’re no beauty.” Eric Turner squinted at the woman, then went back to drinking by himself.

“Fuck you, what an idiot.” The woman, hearing Eric Turner’s words, dropped her fake smile and walked off cursing.

Eric Turner’s dream was to become an outstanding player like Yao Ming, but he realized the gap between dreams and reality at the age of twenty. With limited talent, he couldn’t continue his playing career. In the end, Eric Turner gave up on his dream of being a player, but he didn’t plan to give up on basketball altogether. After more than a year of hard work and study, he became an ordinary coach for the team’s youth squad. After another two years, he was promoted from ordinary coach to assistant coach of the youth team. When Abraham Lincoln got promoted, Eric Turner thought his own path to head coach was finally beginning—but fate played another trick on him.

Eric Turner wasn’t born into wealth or power; he was just an ordinary farmer’s kid. The road to realizing his basketball dream was already full of obstacles, and today, his dream was truly and utterly destroyed.

“Heh, I don’t regret it. Not one bit. What is basketball, anyway? Damn it, what is basketball? If I give it up, then so be it.” Eric Turner left the bar and wandered drunkenly through the streets of Dongguan. He was now penniless, having spent all his money at the bar. The team had surely already returned to Zhejiang, and there was no way he could go back to them now.

“Haha, in the end, what have I done with these twenty-five years? I still have nothing.”

“Where did this lunatic come from? Should we call the police?”

“Forget it, you can tell he’s just heartbroken. Sigh, young people these days…”

Eric Turner, his mind clouded, wandered aimlessly. Just then, with a loud bang, Eric Turner completely lost consciousness.

……

……

“My head hurts…”

With his eyes closed, Eric Turner gently knocked his head with his fist. The aftereffects of a hangover—Eric Turner was never a heavy drinker, and even if he was, he couldn’t have handled drinking like that.

“Zhuang, you’re awake. You really are fragile—just a light hit from the ball and you end up like this.”

Eric Turner opened his eyes to see a Black man walking toward him.

“But your body’s not bad. Waking up this fast means you’re fine. Here, have some water first.”

Eric Turner took the cup of water the man handed him and gulped it down. So refreshing. The dryness in his mouth and throat disappeared.

“Haha, you’re the first head coach in our Demon Deacons to get knocked out by a basketball on your very first day.”

“Demon Deacons?” Eric Turner kept looking at the talkative man, not interrupting.

“Haha, you have no idea—Stephen Grant was so scared just now, thought he’d killed someone. His legs went weak.”

“Stephen Grant?” Eric Turner quietly made a mental note of the name.

The man kept talking, and Eric Turner gradually figured out his situation. He had transmigrated—to the United States, and not just any time, but to 1995. His name was still Eric Turner, unchanged, and he was a Chinese international student. Currently, he was serving as the interim head coach of the NCAA Wake Forest University Demon Deacons, because the previous head coach, Bennett Parker, had mysteriously resigned, and the school had appointed this Chinese assistant coach to fill in for a year.

“What’s this?” Eric Turner suddenly noticed an electronic screen, about the size of two palms, appear before his eyes.

“Ding, NBAlive Dynasty Mode System activated. Host confirmed. Bind now?”

What is this, the NBAlive Dynasty System? He’d played plenty of NBAlive games, so it wasn’t unfamiliar. Could this be because of the transmigration? After hesitating for a moment, Eric Turner chose “Yes.”

“Binding successful. System unlocked. Ding, host level too low, not enough Dynasty Points. Scouting system activated. Coaching system locked.”

At this moment, the electronic interface in front of Eric Turner kept changing, and finally settled on a screen with three main options: “Player Search,” “Team Search,” and “Staff Search.”

“Zhuang, are you okay?” The man, seeing that Eric Turner hadn’t said a word, asked with concern.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Haha, no need to be so polite. You’re the head coach, I’m the assistant coach—that’s how it should be. Anyway, get some rest. I won’t bother you.”

After the man left, Eric Turner gathered his thoughts. He had transmigrated, become the interim head coach of an NCAA team, and even gotten a so-called NBAlive Dynasty System—just like in a novel.

“That guy just now said Demon Deacons, right?” Eric Turner lightly tapped “Team Search” on the interface in front of him and entered “Demon Deacons.” The screen quickly refreshed, and the search results appeared. Only one team was listed in the results.