Two days after beating the Warriors, the Kings returned home to face the Portland Trail Blazers. This matchup came with a grudge. After the Blazers had practically given CJ away for next to nothing, their front office became the punchline of countless jokes.
The Blazers' front office, fuming, dismissed CJ as just a flash in the pan before tip-off, insisting the "real" point guard was still Damian Lillard.
When Chen Yilun heard about those comments, he immediately had the Kings' official Twitter fire back: "Let's see who the real point guard is."
It was exactly what he needed. Chen Yilun had been debating for days whether to go all-in on developing CJ. Now, the Blazers had handed him the perfect rallying point—nothing pulls a team together faster than a shared enemy.
"Guys, I'm sure you've all seen the chatter out there," Mike Malone told the players in the locker room, hands on his hips. "CJ is one of our best players and an irreplaceable part of this family. We need to protect his dignity. Today, I want everyone creating as many opportunities for CJ as possible. Help him prove he's every bit as good as anyone else out there!"
"Got it!" the players responded in unison.
Locker room culture in the NBA is simple: veterans might mess with rookies, but if someone from outside targets them, the vets have their back. Malone's words made that loyalty crystal clear. If he was willing to tweak the game plan for a second-year player who'd just joined in the summer, anyone could count on the team when they needed it.
After quickly running through the new tactics, the team began warming up. An ESPN reporter approached CJ as he practiced his shooting.
"Hey CJ, this is your first game against your former team, the Trail Blazers. Any thoughts on the comments going around online?"
CJ paused briefly. "I'm not concerned with what people are saying. All I know is I'm on a great team now, where the players genuinely care for each other. I'm happy to be with the Kings. As for responding—our only goal is to win. Victory is the best answer."
The reporter pressed. "So, would you say the Kings are the best team you've ever played for?"
A loaded question. CJ had only been on two teams—praising the Kings would naturally sound like a jab at the Blazers.
CJ smiled. "Of course. Whether it's the fans, the coaches, or my teammates, they've all given me tremendous trust and support. If the team needs me, I'd be happy to spend my career in Sacramento."
Nearby, Chen Yilun almost jumped for joy. If he didn't have to keep up the cool image of a GM, he might have. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Big contract coming your way, public narrative on our side—you're not leaving.
Satisfied, he stepped in to cut off the interview and quietly opened the system menu.
In the system's inventory lay two badges and a card. He selected the "Dual-Threat Guard 101" badge and applied it to CJ McCollum.
The cold, mechanical voice rang in his head: "Once selected, this cannot be changed. Confirm?"
Confirm! Without hesitation, Chen Yilun equipped the badge. You're my first true disciple now. Leaning toward CJ, he whispered, "Don't worry about a thing today—just light them up."
CJ nodded firmly, gratitude written all over his face.
From the opening tip, CJ came out attacking. He targeted Lillard from beyond the arc, and even he was surprised—every shot felt like it was going in.
After drilling another three over Lillard, the arena DJ hyped the crowd: "Let's hear it for Sacramento's new favorite, CJ… McCollum!"
The place erupted.
"And let's give a big round of applause to the Trail Blazers for their generosity—thanks to them, we have this outstanding player!"
The crowd roared with laughter, clapping mockingly toward the Blazers' bench. Lillard's face flushed red.
Seeing the energy at its peak, Chen Yilun played the "Team Three-Point Boost" card. Combined with the +10 three-point bonus from the 101 badge, CJ's shooting rating had just jumped by 20 points.
At the top of the arc, Cousins spotted CJ cutting behind him and immediately passed the ball. Using the small window created by Cousins' massive frame, CJ launched a fading three over Batum's closeout.
Swish!
CJ spread his arms, flashing a "3" gesture toward the crowd. The Blazers' coach called timeout immediately, his expression dark. Before CJ could head to the bench, Cousins ran over and lifted him in a bear hug.
At heart, Cousins was still a big kid—stats didn't matter to him today. All he cared about was seeing the new guy he liked stick it to his old team.
The timeout didn't slow CJ down. If anything, he got hotter. By the start of the fourth quarter, the Kings were up by nearly 20. Portland tried to rally, but Sacramento shut them down quickly.
Lillard finished with a strong stat line—30 points, 12 assists, and 6 rebounds—superstar numbers on paper. But CJ? A monster triple-double: 42 points, 15 assists, and 10 rebounds.
It wasn't that CJ had suddenly surpassed Lillard in skill. The Kings, under Chen Yilun and Malone's orders, spent the game feeding him the ball. Cousins even boxed out under the rim and let the ball bounce past his face so CJ could grab the rebound.
On the Blazers' side, there wasn't much ill will toward CJ—only Lillard seemed irritated by the media's comparisons. The rest of the team lacked the fight to truly challenge the Kings, forcing Lillard to share the ball more than usual.
In a true shootout, Chen Yilun knew that even a buffed-up CJ might not outgun Lillard. But none of that mattered—fans and media only cared about the box score and the win.
The Blazers were humiliated again, and this time, no one tried to defend them. The loss was obvious, and the front office stayed silent.
If CJ had just looked "pretty good" after the Warriors game, this night made him the Kings' undisputed darling. Sacramento hadn't celebrated a win this satisfying in years.
Before long, newspapers everywhere were running headlines about the Kings' new "Big Three" of Cousins, Gay, and CJ.
…
On the streets of San Antonio, Popovich strolled in a floral shirt, reading Sports Illustrated with interest.
"The kid's been making waves lately," he remarked.
Across from him, Buford sipped his coffee carefully. "Told you Yilun could handle himself. Looks like he's developing even faster than we thought."
Popovich closed the magazine and glared. "And you've got the nerve to say that? We agreed to beef up the roster this offseason, and all we got was a rookie."
Buford shrugged. "I wanted to, but without money, what could I do?"
At the mention of money, Popovich rubbed his temples. Even the best coach can't beat the salary cap. "The Kings are on the rise, the Warriors are sharper than last year with Curry and Klay Thompson, and the Clippers, Thunder, and Rockets are all in the hunt. The West is a mess—it's going to be a tough year."
He counted on his fingers. For all his five championship rings, there was one thing Popovich had never achieved—back-to-back titles. This transitional year for the Spurs might be his last real shot. But looking at the competition, the odds were slim.
Buford read his expression and felt the same weight. Both men had seen enough eras of the league to know: no matter how much you want something, some things are simply out of your hands. Against the march of time, even legends are small.