The New York Champions' rampage continued…
As the clock ticked on—
Kobe went 0-for-8 in the first quarter. Eight shots, eight bricks.
This time, Chris Paul snatched Lin Yi's rebound. It wasn't like Paul was stealing from his own teammate—he got it because Gasol was trying to swipe the reward after Lin Yi and Big Morris had done all the dirty work, boxing out. Outrageous.
Lin Yi sprinted ahead instead. And when the 404 Connection was in sync, the rim was doomed.
Boom!
Lin Yi hammered down his sixth point of the night.
6–32.
"What a shame," Zhang Heli said regretfully. "Lin Yi's already announced he won't join the Slam Dunk Contest this year. Otherwise, I'd still bet on him taking the crown."
Yu Jia laughed. "Zhang, you've got to leave something for the others. If Lin Yi keeps showing up, there won't be much left for anyone else to win."
Truth be told, Lin Yi's reason for skipping the dunk contest was the same as LeBron's: If I enter, I win. So why bother?
He'd long decided to play the gracious senior. He'd already borrowed half of LaVine and Gordon's creative dunks—time to learn from LeBron's wisdom of self-preservation of his wrists, even though he had healing from the system.
The Lakers, though, were getting dismantled. With four minutes left in the first quarter, Phil Jackson finally waved in Barnes and Blake, benching Nash and Gasol.
Some fans questioned the Zen Master's choices, but to be fair, Jackson had coached Kobe long enough to know—if you can't fix it, at least let someone else take the blame.
And wouldn't you know it—right after the substitutions, Kobe backed down his man, turned, and released that trademark fadeaway.
The shot was so smooth, so effortless—it was vintage Mamba. Madison Square Garden sighed in admiration, like a crowd hypnotized.
Never mind that Kobe was just 1-for-9; with form that pure, the previous eight misses almost seemed justified.
8–32.
The Knicks made changes, too, but Lin Yi stayed on the floor alongside Motiejunas, Whiteside, Klay, and Parsons.
Lin Yi now moved freely between small forward and point guard—though the Lakers didn't seem too thrilled. Their lineup suddenly looked tiny.
Barnes picked up Lin Yi on defense—Blake simply couldn't. Lin Yi didn't force anything.
Parsons, slippery as ever, shook free of his man. Lin Yi threaded a sharp pass, and Parsons finished with a clean reverse layup.
8–34.
That was Lin Yi's sixth assist already.
Kobe, still in attack mode, took his tenth shot—cursed from the moment it left his hands. And on his eleventh attempt, a perfectly straight three-pointer somehow rimmed out.
Lin Yi leaped, snatched the board with one hand, and landed like a butterfly in bloom—only this butterfly was seven feet..
Barnes couldn't even foul him in time. The Knicks' fast-break rhythm was merciless, their energy relentless.
Then Lin Yi whipped out another no-look pass. Even Klay nearly missed it, blinking in surprise before calmly rising and draining the jumper.
8–37.
Lin Yi's seventh assist of the night.
Before the crowd's roar could fade, Lin Yi struck again—this time, picking Blake clean at midcourt
Blake froze.
The Garden was howling. Lin Yi, ever the showman, tossed the ball off the glass for an alley-oop. Klay caught it mid-air, spun—and nearly embarrassed himself. He barely dunked it off the front rim, but hey, it still dropped.
Lin Yi couldn't help laughing. He patted Klay on the head.
"Klay, buddy—when you're dunking, maybe don't overthink it."
Klay just sighed. "Yeah, yeah…"
To be fair, his athleticism wasn't bad—he just froze for a second. Happens to the best of shooters.
8–39. The Lakers were down thirty-plus—in the first quarter.
Kobe's frustration was boiling. His next fadeaway looked perfect—until the clang! .
He chased down his own miss, muttering under his breath. What's going on? Is there a lid on this rim tonight?
Lin Yi, however, wasn't giving up a single board. He ripped down his eleventh rebound of the night, pushed the pace, and the Knicks sprinted again.
Swish!
8–41!
The message was clear: when the Knicks hit top speed, no one could keep up.
That bucket came off another Lin Yi assist. Motiejunas delivered the finishing blow, hammering home like the final strike to Kobe's pride.
The Black Mamba grimaced, one hand instinctively clutching his Achilles. For the first time that night, he looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Lin Yi hesitated for a second, then walked over. "You alright, Kobe?"
Kobe winced but managed a smile. "Yeah… I'm fine."
It was that same smile—stubborn, proud, and a little heartbreaking. Across the world, countless Kobe fans watching on TV felt their throats tighten.
Lin Yi knew all too well how this story could go. In his past life, Kobe's body had broken down under the weight of endless minutes and relentless drive. And here, even in this new timeline, Lin Yi could see the same fire burning dangerously bright.
Kobe had been good to him—generous with advice, genuine with respect—and Lin Yi thought maybe he owed it to his idol to say something one of these days.
Phil Jackson didn't pull Kobe out. He knew that benching him now would sting far worse than the pain in his leg. Kobe was too proud, too stubborn—too Kobe.
And when Madison Square Garden gave him a round of applause, he straightened up, nodded once, and went right back to work.
This time, the shot fell. His twelfth attempt—finally good.
10–41.
Lakers fans barely had time to cheer before Lin Yi racked up his tenth assist. Klay caught the pass a step behind the arc and let it fly—clean release, perfect rotation—swish.
10–44.
With 1:58 left in the first quarter, Zhang Heli suddenly spoke up. "Hey, Lin Yi's just four points away from a triple-double in the first quarter!"
In living rooms across China, Lin Yi's fans suddenly sat up straight, eyes wide. The idea alone sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd—this kid was really about to do it.
...
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