After halftime, Conley opened the third quarter with a smooth three-pointer, tying it up for the Grizzlies—52 apiece.
On the Knicks' side, Lin Yi took matters into his own hands again. He dribbled with his left, faked outside, and the moment Rudy Gay shifted to follow—Lin was gone.
One step. Two steps. Like the footsteps of the Grim Reaper.
Gay's stomach tightened. Lin Yi spun, rising into that silky fadeaway—too clean, too smooth—it almost felt unfair.
Swish!
The ball dropped through the net without a hint of mercy. Lin Yi was now up to 37 points.
"Ho ho! Lin Yi just toyed with Rudy Gay!" Yu Jia shouted, his excitement bleeding through the mic.
"Haha, that's why people say Lin Yi's got style," Zhang Heli chimed in. "Lin makes impossible shots look like warm-ups."
At that moment, Rudy Gay would've taken LeBron any day. The King might crush you physically, but at least he didn't taunt you with artistry.
What Gay didn't realize was that Lin Yi had the upper hand from the start. A natural mismatch. Big on small.
No matter how basketball evolves, the rules of the jungle don't change—when the big bullies the small, it's simple dominance. When the small challenges the big, it's a struggle for survival.
In short: I shoot. What's it got to do with you?
And speaking of bullies—Zach Randolph was having himself a night, too. Posting up deep, faking Morris into the air, and softly flicking in a hook. It wasn't pretty, but it was money.
54–54.
.
On court, Lin Yi was probing again, crossovers flowing like water. But then—he froze for a second.
That familiar golden shimmer flashed before his eyes—Limitless Range.
He smirked. "Guess it's showtime."
Fans were still trickling back from the concession stands when Lin Yi took that audacious step-back—from the logo, no less—and launched.
Some fans literally dropped their popcorn.
He'd triggered Limitless Range a few times before, though never with any consistency. Still, he knew the boundaries: anywhere from deep beyond the arc to near the logo. Someday, maybe, he'd figure out how to summon it at will.
Gay lunged, desperate. "No way that's going in!" he muttered, too afraid to even look.
Lin Yi, meanwhile, turned and started walking back on defense before the ball even landed. He made his gunshot celebration to the crowd.
Swish.
LOGO.
SHOW. TIME.
Fortieth point of the night.
The FedExForum went silent, save for the groans of Grizzlies fans clutching their heads.
"Oh my God! What a shot!" Yu Jia gasped.
Zhang Heli whistled under his breath. "That's just… unreasonable. Completely unreasonable."
At a tense, razor-edge moment like this... Lin Yi just rose and fired—no hesitation, no second thought.
Fans watching at home lost it completely.
Grizzlies head coach Lionel Hollins immediately called a timeout—not to change the defensive setup, but to calm the storm. Because even inside the FedExForum, he could hear it... the faint chants of "MVP! MVP!" And they definitely weren't for Rudy Gay.
Over on the Knicks bench, Klay Thompson sprinted toward Lin Yi, practically leaping into him for a chest bump, which Lin reciprocated by standing still.
In that moment, Klay finally understood why Lin Yi had been so obsessed with pushing his shooting range in practice.
"Wait," he laughed breathlessly, "was this all just about showing off?"
Lin Yi shot him a look. Seriously?
Bro, I told you to extend your range so defenses can't guard you—not for style points.
On the CCTV broadcast, Yu Jia was still catching his breath. "Zhang, look at D'Antoni—he's not even surprised. It's like he's thinking, 'You all can be shocked; I've seen this madness before.'"
Zhang Heli chuckled. "At this point, D'Antoni must be immune to Lin Yi's theatrics. He once said, 'Once I cross half-court, that's my range.' We all laughed back then... but who would've thought he would actually live up to that line one day?"
Across China, Lin Yi's fans were riding an emotional high. It was winter break, and for once, the students without cram school were getting the performance of a lifetime.
"How many points can Lin Yi drop tonight?" people started to wonder out loud.
..
After the timeout, Lin Yi glanced up and blinked in mild surprise—Marc Gasol was guarding him now.
So Hollins had made his adjustment. Even if the Lin Yi Rule couldn't completely contain him, at least putting Gasol on him might make the shots tougher. The Grizzlies could live with Lin Yi driving inside... but those jumpers? Absolutely not.
The Grizzlies set up their next play. Conley pulled up for a mid-ranger—clang. Marcus Morris snagged the board and fired it ahead to Chris Paul.
As Paul advanced, Tyson Chandler sprinted downcourt and curved his run perfectly, setting a screen on Gasol.
Paul's eyes lit up. One slick bounce pass—right into Lin Yi's shooting pocket.
Catch. Rise. Release.
Swish!
Pure poetry in motion.
It was the Knicks' first fast-break three of the game—and Lin Yi's 43rd point of the night.
"Lin Yi's touch tonight is absolutely on fire!" Yu Jia exclaimed.
"He might hit 50 before this quarter's over," Zhang Heli added, half-laughing, half-in awe.
Lin Yi wasn't just hot—he was volcanic.
After trading blows with Gay, Speights, and the rest, his rhythm was locked in. Every move, every shot, felt inevitable.
Swish.
Swish.
.
.
With 5:39 left in the third quarter, Lin Yi calmly sank two free throws.
Fifty-one points—and counting.
...
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