On the Heat's first possession, Chalrs and Bosh went straight into a high pick-and-roll at the top.
With Lin Yi assigned to Bosh, Miami clearly wanted to drag him into action and wear him down early.
The screen landed clean.
Chalrs turned the corner and realized Paul had been caught behind Bosh. His eyes lit up.
Space.
He didn't hesitate. Rising into his shot from the top of the arc, confident in his rhythm.
Then everything froze.
A hand appeared out of nowhere.
It was clean and precise.
Lin Yi didn't just block the shot; he caught it mid-air.
Chalrs landed and blinked.
...Wait, what?
For a split second, even Lin Yi looked surprised. He had stepped up instinctively after getting screened, expecting to recover, not to erase the shot.
But Chalrs had already released. Average release speed, average timing. That was all Lin Yi needed.
The result was ridiculous.
The arena gasped in unison.
On the broadcast, Charles Barkley was already shouting, "Oh my God! Oh my God!"
Lin Yi glanced at Chalrs, almost politely, like he appreciated the opportunity. Then he was gone.
One step, two steps, full speed.
He cut through the court and finished with a smooth two-handed dunk.
4–0.
The basket felt assaulted.
The Knicks struck first.
"New York taking control early on the road," one comntator noted.
"I've seen blocks into fast breaks," another added, "but catching a three-point attempt clean like that? That's new."
The Heat crowd, loud just monts ago, fell into a brief silence.
Jas walked past Chalrs, giving him a quick pat. "Shake it off. Next play."
Chalrs nodded, jaw tight, already moving back on defense.
Miami responded quickly.
Jas got the ball on the wing and went straight at Markieff Morris.
No finesse, just power.
One bump, then another.
Morris couldn't hold his ground. Chandler rotated, but it didn't matter.
Jas finished off the glass.
4–2.
No celebration. Just a calm jog back.
The Knicks ca back up the floor, but the rhythm started to slip.
Chalrs picked Paul up full court, hands active, body pressing.
"Co on, Chris," Chalrs muttered under his breath. "Let's see you work."
Paul tried to shake him once, twice, using Chandler's screen, but Chalrs stayed attached.
The next pass ca late.
Too late.
A blur flashed across the lane.
Wade.
He picked it clean and took off. One dribble, two, then a clean one-handed dunk.
4–4.
The crowd exploded.
Montum flipped in seconds.
Chalrs clapped his hands as he ran back. "That's it. Keep it right there."
Paul frowned, clearly irritated. "You're reaching every ti."
"Ball looked loose to ," Chalrs shot back with a grin.
Next possession, Paul tried to respond. A hard crossover, trying to create separation.
Chalrs stayed ready. The mont Paul shifted, Chalrs reached in from behind.
Contact.
Whistle.
Foul.
Chalrs raised his hands imdiately.
"Co on, ref, I got the ball." Then, louder, glancing at Paul, "You can't protect him like that just because he's Chris Paul."
Paul stopped, turned slightly, clearly annoyed. As he moved toward the sideline, he gave Chalrs a light shove.
Tension rose instantly.
Lin Yi stepped in without hesitation, placing himself between them.
"That's enough," he said quietly.
Jas was already there too, pulling Chalrs back. "Relax. Not worth it."
The referee stepped in. "Keep it under control. Both sides."
During the stoppage, Lin Yi wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulder.
"Chris," he said calmly, "you're our engine. If you lose your rhythm, they win that battle."
Paul exhaled, nodding slowly. "Yeah… I got it."
He knew it too. When pressure built, his temper sotis followed.
But he reset.
Play resud, but the Heat had found their groove.
Jas pushed the pace again, Wade slashed through the lane, and within monts, Miami surged ahead.
4–6.
4–8.
4–10.
The crowd fed into it, noise rising with every possession.
The Knicks, on the other hand, started to tighten up.
Shots ca short. Rotations slowed. Decisions hesitated.
D'Antoni stood up on the sideline.
Tiout.
Back on the bench, Paul slapped his cheeks lightly, frustrated.
"That's on ," he muttered.
Lin Yi shook his head. "No. It's not just you."
He looked out at the court, eyes steady.
"This is all of us. We're rushing. Thinking too much."
He took a breath.
"We settle down first. Defense cos first. Then everything else follows."
Paul nodded again, calr this ti.
The ga restarted, but the Heat kept rolling.
Jas was flawless. Wade unstoppable.
By the end of the first quarter, the scoreboard read:
18–31.
A sixteen-point gap.
Unfamiliar territory for the Knicks.
Back on the bench, Lin Yi grabbed a drink and leaned forward, thinking.
"We can't let this stretch any further," he said quietly. "One stop, one bucket at a ti."
He glanced back at the court, eyes narrowing slightly.
Defense first… always defense.
Then, almost to himself, he added with a faint smile, Would've been nice to hit a couple logo threes right now…
Just a joke.
Or so he thought.
Because right before the tiout ended, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.
The system had activated.
Host's current state detected as 'on fire.' Would you like to try activating God Mode?
Lin Yi froze for half a second.
"Seriously?"
They were down fifteen, the building was shaking, and now this?
For a mont, he hesitated.
He did not like relying on shortcuts. Not in a ga like this. Not against a team like this.
But then he glanced at the scoreboard again.
Eighteen points.
And more importantly, the Knicks' rhythm was gone.
"If I let this drag, we're finished."
He exhaled slowly, eyes sharpening.
"Fine… let's see what you've got."
The Athyst-level badge flickered in his mind. The pointer spun, faster and faster, until it beca a blur.
Then—
Success.
Lin Yi rolled his shoulders and stood up from the bench.
"Fifty-eight seconds," he muttered. "That's enough."
Back on the court, the noise hit instantly.
Boos poured down from every corner of the Arican Airlines Arena. Courtside, Ndamukong Suh cupped his hands, shouting toward the floor.
Lin Yi barely heard any of it.
He raised a hand.
"Ball."
Livingston didn't hesitate. He got it to him imdiately.
Bosh stepped up at the three-point line, knees bent, fully locked in.
"Stay in front," he told himself. "No mistakes."
Lin Yi didn't even take a step forward.
He pulled.
From the logo.
No rhythm dribble, no setup. Just a clean, sudden release.
Then—
Swish.
21–33.
For a second, the arena went quiet.
Tyson Chandler blinked. "Wait… what?"
On the bench, Wilson Chandler exploded, towel already in the air.
Bosh stood there, stunned.
"That… that was from the logo."
The Heat tried to inbound quickly.
Too quickly.
Klay read it, jumped the passing lane, and knocked it loose.
The ball bounced toward midcourt.
"Lin!"
Klay didn't even think. He fired it back.
Lin Yi caught it in stride.
No hesitation.
Another pull.
Sa spot.
Sa motion.
Swish.
24–33.
LeBron Jas turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing.
I won't allow it. Not anymore bull***t
Even the crowd didn't know how to react anymore. A few scattered cheers slipped through the silence.
The Heat called a tiout.
Forty-one seconds left.
Spoelstra didn't even sit. "Slow it down. We reset. One good possession."
LeBron nodded. "I got it."
Back on the floor, Miami ran the clock.
LeBron dribbled, asured, then rose for a jumper.
Clank.
Long rebound.
Lin Yi was already there.
He grabbed it and pushed.
Chalrs and Wade both sprinted at him.
"Trap him!"
Lin Yi crossed half-court.
He didn't stop.
Didn't balance.
Didn't even square his shoulders.
He just launched.
Completely off rhythm. Body drifting.
Bosh turned to box out.
"No way that—"
Swish.
27–33.
Three in a row.
Now the arena wasn't just quiet.
It felt stunned.
Wade looked at LeBron. "You seeing this?"
LeBron shook his head once. "Yeah. I am."
Another inbound.
Another mistake.
Livingston jumped the lane this ti, a clean steal.
He turned imdiately.
"Lin!"
No dribble.
No delay.
Just trust.
The pass hit Lin Yi near midcourt.
Everyone in the building stood up.
All 20,000.
Not a single person was sitting.
Lin Yi caught it, rose in one motion, and released.
This ti, the arc was perfect.
Swish.
30–33.
Silence.
Then chaos.
The Knicks bench erupted.
Players stord the court before the whistle even settled.
Paul grabbed Lin Yi's waist. "You're insane!"
Klay latched onto the other side, laughing. "Don't stop, don't ever stop!"
Wilson Chandler jumped onto his back. "We're back! We're back!"
Tyson pulled him upright, shaking his head.
"Our personal cheat code."
Across the court, the Heat stood frozen.
Bosh sat down where he was, staring at the floor.
Wade exhaled slowly, hands on hips.
LeBron stayed still, eyes locked on Lin Yi.
No expression.
Just focus.
Fifty-eight seconds.
Twelve points.
Four shots.
All from way out.
"That's… that's not normal," Wang ng said, half-laughing, half in disbelief.
Su Junyang didn't answer right away.
He just watched the replay again, then shook his head.
"I don't think we have the right words for this."
On the court, Lin Yi finally pulled free from his teammates.
He adjusted his jersey, calm again.
Like nothing had happened.
But the ga had changed.
Completely.
. . .
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