On the Heat's first possession, Chalmers 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.
Chalmers 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.
Chalmers 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 Chalmers 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 Chalmers, 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 commentator 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 moments ago, fell into a brief silence.
James walked past Chalmers, giving him a quick pat. "Shake it off. Next play."
Chalmers nodded, jaw tight, already moving back on defense.
Miami responded quickly.
James 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.
James finished off the glass.
4–2.
No celebration. Just a calm jog back.
The Knicks came back up the floor, but the rhythm started to slip.
Chalmers picked Paul up full court, hands active, body pressing.
"Come on, Chris," Chalmers muttered under his breath. "Let's see you work."
Paul tried to shake him once, twice, using Chandler's screen, but Chalmers stayed attached.
The next pass came 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.
Momentum flipped in seconds.
Chalmers clapped his hands as he ran back. "That's it. Keep it right there."
Paul frowned, clearly irritated. "You're reaching every time."
"Ball looked loose to me," Chalmers shot back with a grin.
Next possession, Paul tried to respond. A hard crossover, trying to create separation.
Chalmers stayed ready. The moment Paul shifted, Chalmers reached in from behind.
Contact.
Whistle.
Foul.
Chalmers raised his hands immediately.
"Come 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 Chalmers a light shove.
Tension rose instantly.
Lin Yi stepped in without hesitation, placing himself between them.
"That's enough," he said quietly.
James was already there too, pulling Chalmers 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 sometimes followed.
But he reset.
Play resumed, but the Heat had found their groove.
James pushed the pace again, Wade slashed through the lane, and within moments, 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 came short. Rotations slowed. Decisions hesitated.
D'Antoni stood up on the sideline.
Timeout.
Back on the bench, Paul slapped his cheeks lightly, frustrated.
"That's on me," 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 comes first. Then everything else follows."
Paul nodded again, calmer this time.
The game restarted, but the Heat kept rolling.
James 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 time."
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 timeout 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 moment, he hesitated.
He did not like relying on shortcuts. Not in a game 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 Amethyst-level badge flickered in his mind. The pointer spun, faster and faster, until it became 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 American 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 immediately.
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.
Same spot.
Same motion.
Swish.
24–33.
LeBron James 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 timeout.
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, measured, then rose for a jumper.
Clank.
Long rebound.
Lin Yi was already there.
He grabbed it and pushed.
Chalmers 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 time, a clean steal.
He turned immediately.
"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 time, the arc was perfect.
Swish.
30–33.
Silence.
Then chaos.
The Knicks bench erupted.
Players stormed 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 Meng 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 game had changed.
Completely.
. . .
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