Basketball System: Hate Makes Me Unstoppable-Chapter 399: Familiar Faces.

On Han Sen's second day in Sacramento, an old face showed up at his estate.

The moment Han saw those familiar sharp eyes, he grinned.

Damn, how did he almost forget?

Rudy Gay was still here.

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Back in Cleveland, when Rudy had told Han he was done with the Grizzlies, Han had jokingly suggested Sacramento.

"Go be a real King," he had said.

And now?

Years later, Rudy was still here, mentoring the young guys.

And Han?

Han had arrived.

Rudy smirked as he walked up. "You know, when I heard the rumors, I thought someone was trolling."

Han chuckled. "You think I'd fake this just to mess with people?"

Rudy crossed his arms. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Han shrugged. "Fair point."

It was surreal. The last time they'd shared a locker room, they were running through the league, winning title after title in Memphis.

Now? They were teammates again, but in a whole different situation.

Rudy shook his head. "Man, you really took the long way back, huh?"

Han smirked. "What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting."

Rudy chuckled, but before he could say more—

A third voice cut in.

"Han, when do we start training?"

Han turned.

Donovan Mitchell.

The kid was staring at him like a lion ready to pounce.

Han blinked. No greeting. No small talk. Just straight to business.

Rudy sighed. "Bro, you have no idea. He's been bugging me since July. 'When's Han coming? When's Han coming?' Like I got your schedule."

Han chuckled. "Patience, young blood."

He turned back to Rudy. "Damn, man. This is what happens when you hit your thirties—now you're the one telling the rookies to slow down."

Rudy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You can clown me all you want. But we gonna hoop or what?"

Han smirked. "Let's start with a tour."

---

Sacramento's Golden 1 Center had only been open for two years, and Han had only played here twice.

The drive downtown took a while, but at least this wasn't Los Angeles—no traffic.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the Kings' home.

The arena had cost $570 million to build.

But what made it unique?

Not the price.

The tech.

Rudy led the way. "This is the NBA's only fully solar-powered arena."

The entire exterior was covered in solar panels.

The retractable ceiling allowed natural light to pour in.

And the glass walls on the first floor made it feel like you were still outside, even when inside.

Above the entrance, six massive glass panels could fold back, creating natural air circulation.

Han nodded, impressed. "Alright, that's nice. But where's the good stuff?"

Rudy grinned. "Oh, trust me. You'll see."

Inside, Han immediately noticed something different.

The entire first level was sunken underground.

They had walked in at street level, but now, looking down, the court was below them.

Like a modern-day Colosseum.

Rudy saw Han's reaction and smirked. "Yeah. Gladiator pit vibes."

Han chuckled. "I like it."

Then Rudy pulled out his phone.

"Download this."

Han raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Rudy smirked. "Just do it."

A minute later, Han watched as Rudy demonstrated.

This app could:

✔ Order food to your seat

✔ Buy tickets

✔ Reserve parking

✔ Give you a real-time route to your seat

✔ Summon a server to bring drinks

✔ Watch replays and track player stats

✔ Check restroom wait times

Han exhaled. "Okay. That's actually crazy."

Rudy grinned. "Oh, we're not done."

He tapped another setting.

Han suddenly felt cool air rush beneath him.

Rudy smirked.

"You can adjust the air conditioning for your own seat."

Han stared at him. "Every seat has a personal vent?"

"Yup."

Han let out a low whistle. "Alright. That's next-level."

For the first time, it actually felt like he had stepped into the future.

---

After the tour, they hit the VIP restaurant.

Even in the offseason, it was open to the public.

The moment Han walked in?

The staff immediately recognized him.

And then?

They fed him.

This place could seat 400 people, but its real specialty?

The bar.

Over 1,000 types of liquor.

"You can get any cocktail here," Rudy said, motioning toward the counter.

Han smirked. "We'll come back for drinks after we win a ring."

Rudy laughed. "Yeah, that's the plan."

They grabbed a quick meal, then moved on to the locker room.

This was the least surprising part of the tour.

Cleveland had renovated their facilities last season, and Sacramento's locker room was pretty much on par.

But one thing caught Han's eye.

His locker was already set up.

His nameplate was installed.

His jersey was hanging.

The Kings might have struggled on the court.

But off the court?

They had everything ready.

Han smirked.

"Alright," he said, cracking his neck. "Let's get to work."

---

Han and Mitchell started with a one-on-one.

Mitchell's nickname during the draft was "Baby Wade."

And it showed.

Explosive first step.

Powerful finishes.

His drives to the rim—his sudden pull-up stops—everything looked eerily similar to prime Dwyane Wade.

But unlike Wade?

Mitchell had a three-point shot.

His game was built on pure efficiency—drives and threes.

And Han noticed something new.

Mitchell was working on his mid-range pull-up.

It wasn't fully there yet.

But it was progress.

His weaknesses?

Inconsistency.

His finishing was elite, but his jumper—especially from deep—still wavered.

For a playoff team?

Mitchell was already a valuable asset.

For a championship team?

He had work to do.

But if there was one thing that stood out about Mitchell?

His mentality.

He wasn't loud about it.

But he had the kind of fire that never burned out.

Even when he got scored on, he didn't sulk.

He didn't complain.

He just went again.

That, more than anything, reassured Han.

This was the right choice.

Mitchell was the kind of player you went to war with.

The kind who wouldn't fold when things got tough.

And most importantly?

Han wouldn't have to deal with a teammate constantly throwing his hands up, whining, and blaming everyone else.

Yeah.

This was the right call.

---

By the time they wrapped up training, the sun was already setting.

Han leaned back against the padded walls of the practice gym, catching his breath.

Mitchell, still sweating, grinned. "So, we running it back tomorrow?"

Han smirked. "You scared I'll figure you out?"

Mitchell laughed. "Man, you've already figured me out."

Han gave him a look. "Then we keep working."

Mitchell nodded, the fire in his eyes undimmed.

Han glanced toward Rudy, who had been watching from the sideline.

"Not bad, right?" Han asked.

Gay crossed his arms. "Yeah... You're making me feel old, though."

Han chuckled. "You are old."

They both laughed.

It was a lighthearted moment, but Han knew this was only the beginning. The real work started now.

And speaking of work—

---

Han's schedule was already jam-packed for the coming days.

Moving to a new city meant his sponsors followed. That meant store openings, promotional events, and commercial shoots.

And, of course, Han had to make appearances at all of them.

But in the middle of all that, the Cavaliers and Kings finally finalized the long-awaited trade.

Cleveland signed Han to a 5-year, $200 million contract (with a no-trade clause) before packaging him and Dante Cunningham in a trade to Sacramento.

In return, the Cavs received Luka Dončić, George Hill, a 2020 first-round pick, and a 2021 second-round pick.

With the deal official, an interesting pairing emerged in Cleveland—Dončić and Jokić were now teammates.

More specifically?

Two Balkan-born stars on the same NBA team.

Back in the day, there was a nation called Yugoslavia. Before its political collapse, its basketball was so elite that it could go toe-to-toe with Team USA.

Because of politics, Dončić and Jokić could never play for the same national team.

But now?

Cleveland made it happen.

With the trade sealed, Vlade Divac came to Han's estate for an important conversation.

Two key topics were on the table:

1. Han's introductory press conference.

2. The Kings' head coach vacancy.

Sacramento needed a coach.

And ironically?

Their last great coach had been Michael Malone—the same Malone who left Sacramento and then coached Han in Cleveland.

Since Malone's departure, the Kings had cycled through three different head coaches.

First, Ty Corbin (former lead assistant).

- He clashed with DeMarcus Cousins so badly that it ended in a physical altercation. Fired.

Next, George Karl.

- If Corbin's feud with Cousins was bad, Karl's was worse.

- In the end? The Kings traded Cousins... and still fired Karl anyway.

Finally, Dave Joerger.

- A familiar face from Han's Grizzlies days.

- But after failing to make the playoffs last season, he was also let go.

And now?

The Kings were coach-less.

And in Sacramento?

Han had the final say.

That meant he would decide who led the team.

---

The free-agent coaching pool was filled with big names.

- Mike Budenholzer (fired from Atlanta).

- Frank Vogel (let go by Orlando).

- Stan Van Gundy (parted ways with Detroit).

- Jeff Hornacek (recently dismissed by the Knicks).

All well-known names.

In the NBA, head coaching jobs were rarer than player contracts.

There were only 30 head coaching spots in the entire league.

And when teams needed a scapegoat?

Firing the coach was always the first move.

Divac had his own recommendation.

Jeff Hornacek.

"Players love playing for him," Divac said. "He's easygoing and builds strong relationships. The locker room would be harmonious."

Han raised an eyebrow.

He thought back to Divac's decision to trade Tatum.

Divac was known for high basketball IQ as a player. So why did he always make the worst choices as an executive?

If this was about who had the best daughters, sure—Hornacek won that contest.

But as a coach?

He was mediocre at best.

Han couldn't help but think about former players who failed in management.

The biggest example?

Magic Johnson.

No one had a higher basketball IQ than Magic.

Yet his tenure as an executive was a complete disaster.

Still, Divac's logic sparked an idea for Han.

He had played under big-name coaches before.

- Larry Brown.

- Lionel Hollins.

Both were respected, experienced, and... stubborn.

But the coaches Han got along with best?

- Michael Malone.

- Dave Joerger.

They weren't the biggest names.

But they worked well with Han's teams.

Because over the years, Han realized—

His biggest headache wasn't his teammates' skill levels.

It was off-court drama.

So maybe a coach who kept things stable wasn't a bad idea.

"I have a candidate," Han said.

Both Divac and Chris Rondo turned to him.

"Tyronn Lue."

Divac blinked.

"You mean Cleveland's assistant coach?"

"I know what he's capable of," Han said simply.

Because head coaching wasn't just about strategy.

It was about managing the locker room, keeping egos in check, and maintaining relationships with ownership.

That's why Doc Rivers—despite all his playoff chokes—kept getting jobs.

Lue?

He knew how to handle big personalities.

He knew how to keep the peace in a locker room.

And most importantly?

Han trusted him.

Divac hesitated.

"But his coaching ability—"

Han cut him off.

"If you're worried about that, we can hire a high-level assistant coach."

Plenty of former head coaches took assistant roles before getting another shot.

Hell, even Mike D'Antoni was once Steve Nash's assistant.

At this point, Rondo was done waiting.

"It's settled, then."

He turned to Divac.

"When Lue arrives, we'll pick a strong assistant to support him."

Divac still looked unsure.

Because he still hadn't realized the truth:

Han's word wasn't a suggestion.

It was the decision.