The road ahead was still long, but Lin Yi wasn't the type to back down. If he had to hammer iron to reach enlightenment, then so be it.
But—one thing at a time.
When his Rebounding Maniac badge leveled up to Amethyst, he immediately felt the difference. In the second half against the Pacers, the rebound-location hints were popping up faster and more accurately than ever.
With all five badges now sitting at Amethyst, that constant tightness in his mind finally loosened. Everything felt… organized. Whole. Like the family was back together.
Even so, that invisible growth bottleneck still hovered over him like a stubborn ghost. He had already maxed out his growth rate, but the true breakthrough still refused to show itself.
He knew he wasn't strong enough yet—simple as that. Paul's arrival had taken a huge weight off his shoulders and given him better protection, but it also highlighted how much pressure Lin Yi had been under. Half the league had tried to target him this season, and he'd dodged most of it with wit and pure stubbornness.
Still, Lin Yi wasn't blind. Part of the Knicks' dominance this year came from a weak Eastern Conference. Once more, super teams formed—and they would—the league's balance would tilt again. The gap between contenders and everyone else would only widen.
For now, the Knicks had a soft schedule. But if he ever wanted to truly rule the league, Lin Yi knew the truth: even if he dug up that imaginary tree of talent buried in him, he still wasn't there yet.
His base attributes wouldn't improve this season, which meant his badges had become his main path forward. And as the Heat matured and the league shifted, building a Knicks dynasty looked harder and harder.
Winning a championship was doable. Building a dynasty? That was the NBA eternal truth—much harder.
That's why Lin Yi had been aiming at LeBron. If the Knicks wanted a real shot, they had to dominate the East first.
The West?
Forget it. Those old Western teams were like cockroaches—no matter how often he knocked them down, they popped right back up.
And the Warriors… the more he messed with them, the scarier they became. Truly a team born from torment.
So Lin Yi trained. Hard. Every day. Because if he didn't push himself to the edge, how was he supposed to push other teams to the brink?
Were NBA superstars easy to bully?
…Well, sometimes.
But back to business.
With all five badges now at Amethyst, the system finally revealed the requirements for upgrading them to Diamond.
Dream Footwork (C/PF)
Requirement: 600 successful paint scores using pump fakes.
Lin Yi looked at the number and sighed. At least two seasons. No shortcut.
Crazy Rebounder (C/PF)
Requirement: 2000 rebounds.
At his current pace? A season and a half—realistic.
Tough Shotmaker (SF/SG)
Requirement: 700 successful difficult shots.
Given his diet of contested pull-ups, leaning jumpers, and fadeaways, this might actually be the first Diamond he unlocked.
Once his base attributes caught up, pairing them with a Diamond Tough Shotmaker badge would turn his shooting stability into something… unnatural.
Ankle Breaker (SF/SG)
Requirement:
5000 one-on-one possessions vs two system-recognized elite defenders
or
Break an opponent's balance 500 times in real games.
Given that the Knicks had several elite defenders, Lin Yi decided to start with Tony Allen and Tyson Chandler. Tony would be the harder challenge—Ankle Breaker only counted drives, not pull-up jumpers, so Lin Yi couldn't simply shoot over him.
But a Diamond Ankle Breaker was worth it. It would let him gain 2–3 kg with no drop in speed or agility, and his dribbling would hit a level where even Kyrie Irving might have to take him seriously in a one-on-one.
It was arguably the single most practical badge. A mismatch-maker's dream.
Limitless Range
Requirement: 300 validated super-deep threes (at least one step behind the arc).
Ever since this badge reached Amethyst and unlocked its burst effect, Lin Yi liked it a lot more. Still, 300 deep bombs were no joke.
"I kinda miss the days when I could fire up 30 wild shots…" he muttered. No wonder players improved by chucking. If you don't brick, do you even hoop?
But one truth remained: the harder the grind, the stronger the Diamond badge.
Pink Diamond came after that—legendary tier. So Diamond was already superstar level.
With that in mind, Lin Yi returned to New York and called up Tony Allen first.
Tyson Chandler had already carried enough of his burdens on the court. Time to rotate the victims.
And the playoffs were around the corner. Tony needed to sharpen his defense anyway.
"No problem," Tony said, "but in a one-on-one? Lin, I can't guard you. I can handle 6'10" Durant, sure—but you're 7'. It's different."
To calm him down, Lin Yi said, "Relax, Tony. I won't shoot. Just drives."
Tony's eyes brightened.
"Tyson wasn't lying then… he said you're the type who tortures yourself in training. Lin, you sure you don't have… you know… that kind of hobby?"
Lin Yi paused.
"...Tony, can we not go there?"
Lin Yi had only just shaken off the whole single joke, and now the team had moved on to calling him a masochist? Great.
In his one-on-one sessions with Tony Allen, he quickly remembered why big men rarely enjoy driving past guards—getting low enough was a chore. Still, the grind paid off. His two-handed ball-handling under tight pressure improved noticeably.
"Lin," Tony muttered between possessions, "I've never seen a guy over 210 centimeters bend his waist like that."
Lin Yi agreed matter-of-factly that his lower back was indeed pretty solid. Years of brutal training had built that stamina.
The drills looked monotonous to anyone watching, but Lin Yi genuinely enjoyed them. Tony Allen, on the other hand, was on the brink of collapse. Once Lin got into his rhythm, he needed 250 wins a day to feel satisfied, and Tony was trapped in that storm.
The effort reminded Tony of the feeling he had defending Kobe.
Kobe really did pick the right guy to be admired by, Tony sighed inwardly.
Mike D'Antoni watched all this with mixed feelings. Most players saved their legs near the end of the season. Lin Yi, meanwhile, trained like the league were ending tomorrow. D'Antoni didn't try to stop him, but he couldn't help saying, "There's a reason the basketball gods like this kid."
...
On the 5th, Lin Yi pushed through another one-on-one possession against Tony Allen. By the end, Tony's arms were numb. He swore he'd never agree to another session.
Fortunately for him, help arrived—not from the heavens, but from Dwight Howard.
...
On the 6th, the Knicks hosted the Magic. Game possessions counted toward the badge requirements too, so Lin walked up to D'Antoni before tipoff.
"Coach, let me start at center for a bit today."
Every little bit of progress mattered. Dwight was also recognized as an All-NBA defender by the system—wasting him would be a crime. More reps, more experience.
Howard, however, was in a state of total despair. At this stage of his career, the once-dominant player had transformed into a much more cheerful, much less defensive version of himself. And now Lin Yi was calling him out to the perimeter every chance he got.
Not wanting to defend and not being able to defend—those were two very different things. Dwight simply didn't want to burn his energy on every pick-and-roll. But if he let Lin Yi walk all over him, the old Defensive Player of the Year jokes would come back again.
Is this guy insane? Howard thought, watching Lin barreling toward him possession after possession.
A few times, Dwight simply sagged back on purpose. If he bricks, that's on him, Howard reasoned, already calculating the excuses in his head.
But Lin Yi wasn't bricking. He was attacking—again, and again, and again.
Whenever Dwight tried to call for help, Lin Yi immediately dragged him into another isolated action with a quick screen. No escape.
Howard protested mid-game in sheer frustration:
Howard:You know you're tanking your shooting percentage, right?!
Lin Yi:Good. I like it.
Howard:╰（‵□′）╯
"Lin's playing fearless tonight. He's going right at Dwight," Barkley said from the broadcast.
"Dwight's already picked up his third foul… man, when will he stop fouling?" Kenny Smith added.
Shaquille O'Neal perked up immediately. Howard had been taking shots at him recently—claiming he only won because of Kobe—and Shaq was more than happy to fire back.
"This just proves Dwight's Defensive Player of the Year award was watered down," Shaq snorted. "Honestly, my grandma defends better."
On this night, Howard had no allies. Not even on TV.
...
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