Basketball System: Hate Makes Me Unstoppable-Chapter 395: Achievement Unlocked.

After wrapping up the press conference, Han Sen invited the entire team out to the biggest nightclub in New Orleans.

This wasn't just a celebration.

It was a farewell.

A night of pure madness, one final memory with his Cavaliers teammates before everyone went their separate ways.

By the next morning, they were back on a plane to Cleveland.

And what awaited them?

A crowd even bigger than when they had won their first championship.

The city was packed, an ocean of people filling every street around the airport.

And when Han Sen finally stepped out?

The chaos erupted.

Somewhere in the crowd, a chant began.

"Stay! Stay! Stay!"

It spread like wildfire.

Tens of thousands of fans, chanting in unison, begging him to stay.

Han could feel their passion.

Their love was pure, their desire for him to stay was real.

For a moment, it almost got to him.

Almost.

But his decision wouldn't change.

Cleveland had the best fans in the world, and he had given them everything.

A dynasty.

That was his farewell gift.

---

It took over an hour to make it home. By the time he got there, exhaustion hit him like a brick.

He slumped into his chair, closing his eyes as Anjali stood behind him, massaging his shoulders.

That's when she spoke up.

"I want you to go to Sacramento."

Han opened his eyes slightly, glancing at her.

She wasn't joking.

It wasn't the first time she had brought this up—just like when she had moved to Sacramento years ago and hoped the Kings would trade for Steph Curry.

This time, though?

This time, it was actually possible.

Han was leaving Cleveland. He hadn't chosen his next destination yet.

"I'll consider it," he said.

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Sacramento wasn't even on his list, but for Anjali?

He'd give them a meeting.

Anjali's face lit up. She knew the chances were slim, but at least there was a chance.

She kissed Han on the cheek, then left him alone to rest.

---

Later, after a quick shower, Han logged into his [Hater System] out of habit.

At this point, the system barely mattered anymore.

His talents were maxed out, and there wasn't much else it could give him.

Or so he thought.

Because this time?

Something new was waiting.

A locked achievement tab had appeared in the system.

Han clicked on it.

A single line of text appeared:

"Achievement Unlocked: Greatest Player of All Time. Static Talent Exchange Activated."

Han froze.

Greatest of all time?

The system had already recognized him as the best in history.

And because of that?

It had unlocked a new ability.

Static talents.

Unlike dynamic talents—like shooting, defense, or athleticism—static talents were things you were born with.

Height. Wingspan. Hand size. Shoulder width.

Han's heart pounded.

He had never even considered the possibility of upgrading something like this.

But it made sense.

The [Hater System] existed to enhance his talents.

He had already maxed out his dynamic abilities.

Now?

It was letting him alter what he was born with.

And the cost?

A lot.

It made sense.

Dynamic talents could be improved with training. But changing something like wingspan?

That was rewriting genetics.

Han wasn't short by NBA standards.

At 6'6" (1.98m) barefoot, his size was more than enough for a guard.

His wingspan, though?

At 6'11" (2.10m), it was solid but not elite.

Among East Asian players, a +12cm difference was considered godly genetics.

But in the NBA?

It was just average.

Then, he glanced at his Hater Points.

20 million.

That was enough to increase his wingspan by 5 cm (2 inches).

Meaning?

He could go from 6'11" (2.10m) to 7'1" (2.15m).

A +17 cm difference.

That?

That was elite.

With a wingspan like that?

He wasn't just a guard anymore.

He could comfortably play small forward.

Hell, in today's small-ball era?

If he wanted to bulk up, he could even play power forward.

And the best part?

He could guard LeBron James—without needing a mismatch.

A smirk crept onto Han's face.

Yeah. This was worth it.

---

With a single confirmation, the points were spent.

And Han went to bed with a grin on his face.

The next time he woke up?

Everything felt different.

His arms felt sore, as if he had trained them for hours straight.

At first, he ignored it.

Then he got out of bed.

Walked to the bathroom.

And as he reached to adjust himself?

He blinked.

His reach felt different.

Confused, he stepped in front of the mirror.

And when he raised his arms?

There it was.

His wingspan had actually increased.

The system hadn't just given him an upgrade—it had altered his body in the most seamless way possible.

If he had woken up with instantly longer arms, it probably would've freaked him out.

Instead?

It had worked gradually overnight.

Han grinned.

This offseason just got a whole lot more interesting.

---

He wasted no time.

Downstairs, he headed to his private indoor gym.

And the first thing he tested?

Dunking.

He took off, extended his arms, and—

Boom.

It felt effortless.

Longer reach. Less strain. Smoother motion.

This?

This was going to change everything.

His poster dunks?

Even more unstoppable.

But there was a downside.

Han took a jump shot.

It felt off.

Not because of a drop in accuracy, but because his mechanics needed to adjust.

He sighed.

This meant extra training.

Instead of a relaxed offseason, he was about to spend weeks relearning his shot.

But it was worth it.

Better now than mid-season.

Just as he was finishing up, a thought struck him.

A brilliant, chaotic thought.

A way to farm more Hater Points than ever before.

Han chuckled to himself.

Next season is gonna be fun.

---

A few days later, Cleveland held a massive championship parade.

And the Cavs?

They did not hold back.

At the front of the parade, on the lead float, someone had slapped a massive sticker on the front.

A meme of LeBron crying.

The message was clear.

LeBron James, once again, was part of a Cavaliers championship parade.

Just not in the way he wanted.

Cleveland had its dynasty.

And it had Han Sen to thank for it.

That night, in front of thousands of fans, Han gave his final speech as a Cavalier.

He stepped up to the podium, gripping the microphone with both hands, taking a moment to soak in the view of the crowd.

"Cleveland," he started, his voice steady. "Before I say anything else—I just want to say thank you."

The fans erupted, their cheers echoing through the streets.

"Thank you to my teammates, the guys who battled every single night to bring home not just one, but three championships. We fought, we sacrificed, and we made history together. I wouldn't trade a second of it."

Another wave of applause, this time from the players standing behind him.

"Thank you to Coach Malone, to the entire coaching staff, to everyone in the front office who made this possible. Championships don't happen without the people behind the scenes making sure we're always ready. You made this team what it is."

He turned his eyes back toward the crowd, his expression softer now.

"Most of all, thank you to you—the fans. From the first day I came back, you welcomed me like I never left. You stood by us through every win, every loss, every moment of doubt. And when we finally made it happen, when we finally won—you were the ones who made it feel real."

Chants of "Thank you, Han! Thank you, Han!" filled the air.

He nodded, letting the moment sink in before speaking again.

"I don't need to tell you what this team means to me. I don't need to tell you what this city means to me. You already know. But what I will say is this—no matter where I go next, no matter what happens—this will always be home."

A long pause, as the weight of his words settled over the crowd.

"You gave me everything. I hope I gave you everything in return."

And with that, he raised his championship cap high, giving one last wave.

The fans, no longer begging him to stay, instead sent him off the right way.

With cheers.

With gratitude.

With pride.

They let their star go, not with regret, but with the knowledge that he had given them everything.

And that Cleveland would never be the same again.

---

After Han Sen's speech concluded, Dan Gilbert made a surprise announcement—one that even Han himself hadn't been informed of beforehand.

Gilbert declared that the fountain in front of Quicken Loans Arena would be removed and replaced with a statue of Han Sen.

Han raised an eyebrow. He hadn't seen that coming.

Getting a statue before retirement was unheard of in NBA history. Even legends like Michael Jordan and Shaquille O'Neal had to wait until they were done playing.

But Han?

He was different.

It wasn't just a championship. It wasn't just a dynasty.

Cleveland, once a wasteland of sports misery, had won three titles in four years—a run that forever changed the franchise.

The fans erupted in cheers at Gilbert's announcement.

Han was leaving, but with his statue being built immediately, it was as if he was never truly gone. The city would always have a piece of him, standing tall in front of the arena he rebuilt with championships.

After the parade ended, Han returned to the team facility.

David Griffin was waiting for him—smiling, but clearly with business on his mind.

"Han, I need to pick your brain on the 2018 draft."

Han chuckled, shaking his head as Griffin handed him a draft board.

"Griff, the team is already loaded."

With Han gone, Dejounte Murray was next in line to take over as the lead guard. If Dwyane Wade retired, the team could acquire a replacement in whatever trade came with Han's departure.

Unlike LeBron's exit in 2010, Han wasn't about to leave Cleveland empty-handed with nothing but a few draft picks.

That's why, after scanning the list, he gave Griffin his real answer.

"I'm doing a sign-and-trade. But I need a no-trade clause in my next contract."

In the NBA, players needed at least eight years of experience and four with the same team to qualify for a no-trade clause.

Han met the requirements.

And he had no intention of giving up that leverage.

Griffin barely hesitated before nodding.

Gilbert was already building a damn statue for Han. Any condition he wanted? He'd get.

And besides—it wasn't a problem for Cleveland.

The no-trade clause only restricted Han's next team, not the Cavaliers.

Hell, no team in their right mind would trade Han anyway. This was nuclear deterrence, not an actual weapon. It was just insurance—ensuring he'd never be stuck under a bad front office like Memphis had been years ago.

---

Still, Han glanced back at the draft board one last time.

"Take Anfernee Simons if you want a microwave scorer. He's raw, but he's got a nasty offensive game."

"Or go for Bruce Brown if you want a guy who can defend and hustle."

Neither were franchise-changing picks, but they were good role players—important rotation pieces for a contending team.

And honestly? That's all you could really hope for in the late first or second round.

Not every draft had a hidden superstar waiting to be picked late.

Even historically, finding a low-pick Hall of Famer was a rarity.

This year? The high-end talent was stacked at the top.

Speaking of the draft, Han was reminded of a recent conversation with Anjali.

While she was pushing for him to join Sacramento, she had also brought up the Kings' lottery luck this year.

Sacramento had landed the No. 2 pick.

The No. 1 selection was almost certainly Deandre Ayton, but the rest of the top five?

Luka Dončić. Trae Young. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander. Jaren Jackson Jr.

Every single one of them had future All-Star or even superstar potential.

Han's suggestion to Anjali had been simple:

First choice? Jaren Jackson Jr.

The Kings already had scoring guards, but their frontcourt lacked rim protection. JJJ could become a future Defensive Player of the Year, and his skillset complemented Domantas Sabonis perfectly.

Second choice? Luka Dončić.

Talent always wins. And Luka's ceiling was the highest of any player in the draft.

If the Kings were playing the long game, they might as well go all-in and see who emerged as the best.

After his conversation with Griffin wrapped up, Han shifted his focus to his offseason plans.

On July 1st, the NBA free agency period would officially begin.

Until then?

Han was still technically a Cavalier.

He wasn't allowed to have official meetings with teams.

Not that it really mattered.

Every agent, every front office executive, every GM worth a damn would be blowing up Thomas's phone in the next few days.

Han?

He just wanted peace and quiet for a little while.

So this vacation?

It wasn't just a getaway.

It was his way of avoiding the circus before it even started.

---

The morning after the championship parade, the sports world was still trying to process everything. Han Sen had left Cleveland—but the city was immediately building a statue in his honor.

On Inside the NBA, the conversation was heated.

Shaquille O'Neal shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "Man, I don't care what anyone says—Han Sen deserves that statue. Three straight titles, turned Cleveland into a dynasty. Y'all acting like this is normal—it ain't."

Charles Barkley sighed, rubbing his bald head. "Look, Shaq, I get it. But a statue? Before he's even retired? You know Jordan ain't get one before retirement, right? Shaq, neither did you!"

Kenny Smith smirked. "Y'all forgetting something—this isn't Han's first statue. Memphis already built him one after his three-peat! He's the only player in NBA history getting statues while still active!"

Barkley threw up his hands. "And that's my point! Ain't it crazy? I mean, yeah, I get why Memphis did it—they were scared to lose him, wanted to lock in their fanbase. But Cleveland? This is just pure respect. And that's wild!"

Shaq smirked. "Chuck, tell me this—who's the greatest player in Cavs history?"

Barkley grumbled, but he knew the answer. "...It's Han."

"Exactly. And he ain't done playin' yet!" Shaq boomed. "That's how crazy this is! That's why Cleveland gave him a statue. You can be mad all you want, but facts are facts."

Meanwhile, over on Undisputed, Skip Bayless had a different angle.

"Shannon, let me tell you something—LeBron James NEVER got this kind of treatment in Cleveland. And you know why? Because he never deserved it the way Han Sen does."

Shannon Sharpe exhaled, already knowing where this was going. "Skip—why you always gotta drag LeBron into this?"

Skip smirked. "Because this PROVES that Han Sen surpassed LeBron in Cleveland! Think about it—LeBron left in 2010, and the team collapsed. Han Sen leaves in 2018, and Cleveland is STILL a powerhouse!" He pointed at the camera. "THAT is the difference between Han Sen and LeBron James. One built a dynasty. The other? Left a crater."

Shannon shook his head. "Look, man, I ain't sayin' Han don't deserve his flowers. But two statues before he even retires? That's gotta be some kind of record. Hell, Skip, at this rate, they gon' give him another one wherever he signs next!"

Skip laughed. "And you know what? They should. Because that's the kind of legacy we're talking about here. Han Sen isn't just an all-time great—he's redefining what greatness means."

Shannon rolled his eyes. "Man, y'all act like Cleveland gonna win another championship without Han. Let's be real—they done. The only question left is where Han is going next."

Skip adjusted his papers, leaning forward. "And that, Shannon, is the most important question in the NBA right now. Every team is preparing their best offer. Who gets him? Who is willing to sell their entire franchise for the greatest player on Earth?"

Across every network, the message was clear:

Han Sen's departure wasn't just the end of an era—it was the beginning of the wildest free agency in NBA history.