T/N: No updates tomorrow. Saturdays will now be my rest days. Enjoy the chapter.
...
Lin Yi felt like his hands had been blessed.
Tonight, the rim wasn't just a hoop—it was a galaxy, and every shot was a falling star.
He was just that locked in.
Midway through the third quarter, Coach D'Antoni called a timeout. He knew exactly what was coming. Lin Yi was on the verge of something special, something historic. So the message was simple: "Get him the ball."
No one on the Knicks objected. Even if D'Antoni hadn't said it, they'd already made up their minds. But what caught them off guard was how shameless the coach got afterward—he wanted to increase their possessions, too.
In other words? Let the Grizzlies shoot quickly, so they can regain possession of the ball even faster.
Ever since winning his first ring, D'Antoni had long since stopped pretending to care about integrity. Lin Yi was his star, his masterpiece—what was wrong with helping him chase greatness?
He also knew nights like this were rare. Even for legends, everything only aligns a handful of times in a career. Lin Yi was scorching, and Memphis was running out of answers. Honestly, D'Antoni didn't even care if they lost the game—as long as Lin Yi had fun, dominance would follow.
Because D'Antoni knew Lin Yi wasn't the kind of player to hijack a game for stats. No matter how much he respected Paul, Lin Yi was the true heartbeat of this Knicks team.
As they broke the huddle, Paul looked over at Lin Yi and couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy. For any star, the full trust and support of their teammates was everything.
Maybe that's why the Knicks worked. Like Barkley said, they played team basketball to the extreme.
And team basketball didn't always mean perfect chemistry. Even with Lin Yi single-handedly torching Memphis, they were still more of a team than the Grizzlies—because everyone believed in the same goal.
Paul gave Lin Yi a quick pat on the back as they walked onto the court.
"Hey," he grinned, "you're a Kobe guy, right?"
"Yeah?" Lin Yi raised an eyebrow.
"Then don't you dare take fewer shots than him tonight."
Lin Yi stared at him for a second, speechless.
..
After the timeout, the Knicks turned into a machine. Every gear, every rotation, was designed to feed Lin Yi. Chandler, Paul, Green, Morris—they all became satellites orbiting their sun.
Lin Yi and Paul ran a crisp pick-and-roll; Lin Yi rolled hard, caught the lob with one hand, and flushed it home—his 53rd point.
Next possession, he used a double screen to slip along the baseline, caught Paul's pass at a 45-degree angle—splash, 56 points.
Then, isolation. Crossover, drive, floater missed—but Chandler fought for the rebound, handed it right back. Lin Yi went up strong again—58.
Paul came back to screen for him, dragging Gasol just far enough. Lin Yi pulled up right in Conley's face. The shot dropped clean. It was as effortless as a politician lying.
Moments before the quarter ended, Chandler grabbed a defensive board, hurled a long pass—Lin Yi soared, caught it mid-air, and threw down a thunderous dunk.
"Lin Yi breaks his own record!" Yu Jia shouted as the buzzer sounded. "Sixty-three points through three quarters! Heli, we were way off—fifty, sixty points? That's nowhere near his ceiling!"
Zhang Heli could barely contain his grin. "He's completely unstoppable tonight. Let's see if the Grizzlies finally send a double in the fourth."
By now, FedExForum had turned into Lin Yi's territory. More than half the crowd was on their feet, cheering him instead of the home team.
Knicks up 87–76.
On the Grizzlies' bench, Coach Hollins was torn. Double-team Lin Yi? Or trust the system? In the end, he chose to roll with it. They were still within striking distance—if Lin Yi wanted to keep making miracle shots, so be it.
As the fourth quarter began, D'Antoni kept Lin Yi in. Paul volunteered to stay too.
"Even the best scorer needs someone to feed him," Paul said with a smile.
From that point on, no fan watching at home could sit still. Some stood, some knelt, some were pacing—but no one sat.
"Do you think he'll break Kobe's 81?" someone posted on the forum.
"The guy above's crazy. My Lin's a maniac—miss thirty, still shoot thirty more!"
"How dare you compare my Lin to Kobe? He's his own legend!"
..
Swish!
"Oh, Director Zhang, go ahead without me," Yu Jia said, half-laughing, half-collapsing. "I need to see a doctor for my knees."
"This is exactly what we mean," Zhang Heli said, laughing. "He gets on the court, throws it up, and it just drops. Look at D'Antoni—he's thrilled. He's thinking, 'I've seen him catch fire before, but never like this.'"
Lin Yi had just nailed another three to start the fourth, bringing his total to 66.
.
The Grizzlies were falling apart. Even Marc Gasol's signature floater from the free-throw line—usually money—bounced out. Whiteside, who'd checked in at the start of the fourth, grabbed the rebound and instantly fired a long pass up the court. Lin Yi caught it in stride, took three giant steps from beyond the arc into the paint, and finished strong for his 68th point of the night.
Two-thirds of the fans inside FedExForum were already on their feet, clapping and shouting. Lin Yi was just two points away from seventy.
Paul didn't make him wait. Conley lost his handle under pressure, and Paul pounced, stealing the ball and darting toward the rim. Then—off the glass—an alley-oop! Lin Yi followed up, windmilling it home with a thunderous slam!
Bang!
Even though Lin Yi had said last season that he wouldn't defend his Slam Dunk title again, that dunk had everyone in Memphis flashing back to his showtime glory days last season.
70 points!
"MVP! MVP! MVP!"
The chant rolled through the arena like a wave. Memphis had officially switched sides.
Meanwhile, TNT—originally airing Heat vs Lakers—cut in urgently to the Knicks-Grizzlies game. ESPN, ABC, FSN—everyone followed. The country needed to see this.
"Wait—Lin's got 70?!" O'Neal barked.
"That was twenty seconds ago, Shaq," Barkley said, shaking his head.
Back at FedExForum, Lin Yi pulled up from deep—way beyond the arc.
Swish
It didn't matter whether his Limitless Range badge was lit or not right now; he had entered the zone.
73 points!
"My God, he's only eight away from tying Kobe Bryant!" Kenny Smith shouted.
Neutral fans across America were blowing up TV stations, begging them to ditch the Heat-Lakers feed. Everyone wanted to watch this.
How many points was he going to score?
In the CCTV broadcast room, Zhang Heli was standing now, putting aside his professionalism; his voice trembled with emotion.
"Lin Yi—dribble past him!"
It was a simple line, but it carried every ounce of his pride.
Gasol, desperate not to become part of Lin Yi's highlight reel, had no idea fate had already decided otherwise. Lin Yi crossed him, stepped back, and hit a jumper. Gasol stumbled and crashed to the floor.
Haddadi covered his face with a towel.
Swish!
Lin Yi had just reached 76 points.
"He's writing his own legend!" Yu Jia gasped. For once, the veteran commentator was lost for words.
Only five points separated Lin Yi from Kobe's 81.
No one on the Grizzlies seemed to care about offense anymore. Every eye in the building was on Lin.
Paul found him again—this time cutting through the lane. Lin danced past two defenders with a slithering move, slicing through the paint and banking it in for 78 points.
Nearly 20,000 fans raised their phones, ready to record the moment Lin Yi tied Kobe's record.
Coach Hollins didn't call a timeout—he knew it was useless now. The fans deserved to see this through.
Randolph muscled in a layup on the other end. Motiejūnas barely contested it—almost like he wanted the Knicks to get the ball back faster. He quickly inbounded to Paul, who crossed half-court and lobbed it backward toward the logo.
Lin Yi caught it, rose, and fired—no hesitation.
Swish!
A sniper's shot, clean and perfect.
Boom!
"MVP! MVP! MVP!"
The chant echoed across the world. Every broadcaster said the same thing—
"Lin Yi has tied Kobe Bryant! 81 points in a single game!"
...
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