Chapter 151: A Near Three-Point Layup! The Timer Didn't Even React!
The Lakers had the ball.
Chen Yan's last pull-up had the arena rocking, and Kobe could feel the noise swelling like a tidal wave. He wasn't about to let the Suns ride that momentum.
Fisher handed him the ball, and Garnett immediately came up for a high-post pick. Phoenix didn't bother switching—two defenders blitzed Kobe right away.
For most players, that kind of pressure would force a bad shot. But Kobe? He calmly pivoted, spotted Garnett wide open, and dished it.
KG caught, rose up from midrange, and knocked it down. Pure, smooth, automatic.
5–6. Lakers back in front.
Since arriving in LA, Garnett had shifted his game. Fewer shots, higher efficiency, more defense. He wasn't chasing stats anymore—he came to win rings, and sharing the floor with Kobe meant knowing when to defer.
The Suns brought it back. Nash set up at the wing, Stoudemire dragged a defender out of the paint, and the floor opened wide. Everyone in the building knew where the ball was going.
Top of the key. Chen Yan. Kobe waiting.
One-on-one.
Chen pounded the ball between his legs again and again, testing Kobe's stance, looking for the slightest slip. But he was dribbling too much—five seconds gone, then six, then seven. The shot clock was bleeding.
Finally—bang, bang—two hard crossovers. Chen exploded left.
Kobe slid with him, shoulder to shoulder.
Then Chen dipped low, planted, and rose in a sudden snap. God's Pull-Up.
Kobe leapt, hand right in his face. But Chen's release was too high, too quick. Kobe's palm barely grazed air.
"Splash!"
Nothing but net.
"Great shot!" Kenny Smith yelled from the TNT booth. "Straight at Kobe, no fear. That's superstar confidence!"
Barkley smirked. "And he made it look easy. You can't guard that. Even Kobe couldn't guard that."
On the court, Kobe glanced up at the replay on the jumbotron, gave the faintest shake of his head. He'd defended it perfectly. Chen had just hit a star shot.
The Lakers came back. This time Kobe ran another pick-and-roll, and Phoenix doubled him again. He didn't pass—he rose up through the pressure, trying to force it.
Clang!
The shot rimmed out.
Before the ball even came down, Diaw had his eyes locked upcourt. He snatched the rebound and, like a quarterback, fired a full-length outlet pass.
Chen Yan caught it in stride near the logo. Everyone thought he'd pull for a deep three, maybe cock back for a thunder dunk. Instead, he did something nobody expected.
Two long steps. Then, from just inside the arc—he took off.
A near three-point layup.
The arena froze. Chen seemed to float forever, gliding past stunned defenders before kissing the ball high off the glass and in.
The whole sequence had taken less than two seconds. The game clock barely moved.
"What the hell was that?" Barkley shouted. "That wasn't a layup, that was some kind of three-point flight pattern!"
"Unreal," Kenny added, laughing. "Half a step back and we're calling it the first three-point layup in NBA history!"
Even Kobe, jogging back on defense, slowed down and blinked. That wasn't normal. That was physics breaking in real time.
Chen Yan grinned as he landed. Ever since hitting S-level, his body felt different—lighter, stronger, faster. Like his talent itself had evolved.
Online, forums exploded with GIFs of the play.
"Layup of the century."
"This dude just reinvented the fast break."
"You're telling me that's not a dunk?!"
"Chen Yan is playing a different sport."
On the Suns' bench, D'Antoni stared at the stat sheet, already making a decision. He had planned to sub Chen out after six minutes. But looking at him now, blazing hot, unstoppable… no way was he pulling him.
By the end of the first quarter, Phoenix led 30–27. Both sides had lit it up, trading haymakers.
Chen Yan finished the quarter with 18 points on 7-of-9 shooting, 3-for-3 from deep, and 2-of-3 at the line.
The crowd buzzed as the stats flashed on screen.
"Eighteen in one quarter. Against the Lakers. On Christmas."
Nobody was sitting anymore. Everyone could feel it—this wasn't just a game. This was the start of something historic.
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