Evil MC's NTR Harem

"Go, Ross! Shoot the ball!"

"Win for us!"

"You can do it, Ross!"

Sophia and the girls cheered loudly from the sidelines, their voices ringing with enthusiasm and unwavering support.

Unfortunately, they were deep in enemy territory—Eastmount College's court—where the home crowd was anything but welcoming.

"Beat these fuckers!"

"Don't let them score!"

"Fuck them all up!"

The Eastmount students roared louder than ever, their chants echoing through the gym like a thunderstorm.

The sheer volume of their voices drowned out Sophia and her friends, reducing their cheers to faint whispers in the cacophony.

But Sophia and the rest refused to back down.

They cupped their hands around their mouths and screamed as loud as they could, determined to make their voices heard.

Their unwavering dedication to Ross was impossible to ignore, even in the overwhelming noise of the opposing crowd.

"So, you're the ugly lover boy I've been hearing so much about. I swear, you must've slipped some love potion into your bitches' drinks for them to hang around you. I mean, just look at you—I can't help but laugh at your face, you ugly motherfucker," one of the opposing players sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

The taunter stood directly in front of Ross, guarding him closely as their team took first possession of the ball.

His grin widened as he tried to provoke Ross, his words calculated to get under his skin. Read latest chapters at empire

Ross, however, didn't bite. He simply smiled, his expression calm and unbothered, before replying coolly, "Let me see you laugh after the game, then."

Without waiting for a response, Ross moved. His footwork was precise, a blur of motion that left the trash-talking defender stumbling to keep up.

In one smooth action, Ross bypassed him completely, cutting through the court with ease.

As he reached the three-point line, Ross didn't hesitate. He planted his feet, rose into a perfect jumper, and released the ball with a practiced flick of his wrist.

What happened next was pure showmanship.

Before the ball even reached its apex, Ross turned away, not bothering to watch it land. His back was to the hoop when the sound rang out:

"Whoosh!"

The ball sailed cleanly through the center of the net, a flawless three-pointer that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

The gym erupted, but the loudest voices by far belonged to Ross's girls.

"Go, Ross!"

"That's our man!"

"You're amazing, Ross!"

Their cheers rang out above the rest, their excitement palpable as they practically jumped out of their seats in celebration.

Ross smirked, barely acknowledging the chaos he had just caused. The scoreboard flashed: 3–0—Ross had scored in the first ten seconds of the game, and he had done it with effortless style.

The taunting player, now red-faced and flustered, could only glare at Ross as the crowd continued to roar.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The smirk Ross threw over his shoulder as he jogged back to his position was enough to make the defender grit his teeth in frustration.

"Keep laughing, buddy," Ross called casually. "It's going to be a long game for you."

By the time the first half ended, Ross had delivered a performance so unbelievable it left the entire crowd in stunned silence.

He had scored 105 points single-handedly, while the opposing team had only managed to scrape together 6 points.

Every shot Ross took was from beyond the three-point line, and every single one was flawless. A perfect game.

As the halftime buzzer sounded, Coach Hawkins called Ross over.

"You don't need to play the second half, Ross," the coach said firmly, though there was a hint of awe in his voice.

Scoring 105 points in just 20 minutes was already beyond anyone's comprehension. Piling on more points would have been excessive, even cruel.

"We've got a massive lead. Let the rest of the team finish this one off."

One of Ross's teammates chimed in, grinning. "Yeah, Ross. We've got this. Even if we play blindfolded, they don't have a prayer of catching up."

Ross shrugged, unbothered. "Alright, if that's what you want." He nodded at the team. "I trust you guys to seal the win."

While Ross was perfectly capable of shooting from his own basket and landing it in the opposing hoop, he knew better than to push his limits too far in public.

Displaying that level of skill would raise questions, and Ross wasn't ready to reveal his true capabilities to the world.

After handing over the game to his teammates, Ross stripped off his jersey and joined his girls on the sidelines.

The rest of the match was a blur to him—he spent the second half relaxing with his group of stunners, enjoying their attention and basking in the glory of the inevitable victory.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard read 156–99. The opposing team had managed to close the gap slightly, but it was far from enough.

Ross's team walked off the court with their heads held high, the taste of victory sweet in their mouths.

The excitement from the game rippled through the school for days, with Ross's name on everyone's lips.

But what Ross didn't expect was the knock on his door just three days later.

When he opened it, he was greeted by an older man in an immaculate, expensive business suit—the kind of attire Ross had only seen worn by the richest of the rich.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Oakley." the man said, his voice professional but filled with unmistakable admiration.

"I know you," Ross replied casually, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yes, our first meeting left a lot to be desired but I'm here on behalf of the Parkland Knights again," the man began, naming one of the weakest NBA teams in the country today.

"This time we'd like to offer you a five-year maximum contract deal. We're willing to accept any of your terms."

Ross's brows rose in amusement. "Anything?"

The man nodded, his expression deadly serious. "Anything."

Ross's lips curled into a grin. He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity—and the opportunity—of it all.

"Well, then. Tell your boss you've got a deal," he said, extending his hand.

The man shook it without hesitation.

As Ross closed the door, he chuckled to himself, already imagining what it would be like to dominate the NBA at just 18 years old.

His rise to stardom was only beginning, and he was more than ready to take the world by storm.