Chapter 178: One-Man Show — A God Descends to the Hardwood
"Chen Yan has scored every single point for the Suns to start this game!"
"Man, watching him cook is a show in itself!"
"That shoulder dance? Absolute fire!"
"Haha, not only is he torching Boston—he's dancing while doing it!"
The fans were having the time of their lives. On the court, Chen Yan calmly sank his free throw.
Swish.
Eleven straight points.
Boston tried to respond. Durant brought the ball to the free-throw line, facing Raja Bell one-on-one.
He pounded the dribble a few times, searching for a crack in the defense. Bell stayed locked in — disciplined, quick, relentless.
But Durant wasn't rattled. His advantage was something no technique could fix — height.
Even with Bell draped on him, Durant rose smoothly for a jumper from the elbow.
Bell's contest was decent, but it barely brushed the air around Durant's release. Whether it went in depended on KD's touch.
Clang... bounce... swish!
The ball hit the back rim, popped up, then dropped through. The TD Garden roared.
11–8.
Durant turned and pointed straight at Chen Yan.
It was a clear message — I'm right here too.
Chen just smirked. "Cute," he thought. "But mine was an and-one over your head."
On the next play, the Suns went full throttle.
Stoudemire inbounded quickly, and within seconds, Nash, Raja Bell, and Chen Yan were sprinting down the floor in a three-man break.
The Celtics were outnumbered — again. Perkins and Jefferson tried to hustle back, but asking them to keep up with Phoenix's tempo was like asking a freight truck to chase a Ferrari.
Nash drew the defense in and kicked it to Chen Yan. One quick gather — and from well beyond the arc…
Swish!
14 straight points.
"Unreal! He's not even touching the rim tonight!" Kenny Smith shouted from the broadcast booth.
Barkley whistled. "Man's hotter than the Arizona desert. Someone check if the rim's made of magnets."
Fans watching the live stream went wild. The chat flooded with cheers, emojis, and disbelief.
"14 straight? Are you kidding me!?"
"He's in video game mode again!"
"Give this man a fire extinguisher!"
Doc Rivers couldn't take it anymore.
"TIMEOUT!" he yelled, slamming his clipboard.
The Celtics gathered in silence. Chen Yan's rhythm had gone from hot to divine.
On the Suns' bench, teammates surrounded him, patting his back and shoulders. Even D'Antoni didn't call any special plays — just waved his hand.
"Keep playing. Don't overthink it."
When you're on fire, you let the flames burn.
Out of the timeout, both teams kept their starters in.
Rivers knew their offense wasn't the problem — their defense was bleeding points. He hoped Tony Allen could slow Chen Yan down once the Suns were forced into half-court sets.
But Durant had caught a spark of his own.
Maybe it was pride, maybe adrenaline, maybe a little of both — but he started attacking every possession. Two straight pull-up jumpers, nothing but net.
The TD Garden came alive. Every time KD scored, fans erupted, waving towels and chanting his name.
For a moment, the game turned into a duel.
Chen Yan vs. Durant.
Shot for shot.
Fire for fire.
Durant — the rising prince of Boston.
Chen Yan — the rookie god of Phoenix.
But the Suns didn't mind trading baskets. Their offense was a machine built on pace, and the Celtics' lumbering bigs couldn't keep up. Phoenix kept running, attacking, and raining down jumpers.
Even though the score stayed close, Doc Rivers could feel it — Boston was being dragged into the Suns' rhythm.
At 6:06 in the first quarter, he burned another timeout.
This time, he sent in Delfino and Garbajosa for Perkins and Jefferson, opting for a smaller, quicker lineup to match Phoenix's tempo.
It helped — for a while.
Both teams turned the rest of the quarter into a sprinting contest. Fast breaks. Transition threes. No hesitation. No mercy.
Chen Yan loved it.
D'Antoni didn't even glance at his bench. He knew better than to pull the man who'd turned the court into his personal stage.
When the buzzer sounded, the scoreboard read:
Phoenix Suns 35, Boston Celtics 29.
The Celtics had shot surprisingly well, but even their best couldn't stop Chen Yan's masterpiece of a quarter.
Twelve minutes.
Ten shots. Ten makes.
Five threes. One free throw.
Twenty-six points. Zero misses.
The numbers didn't look real.
Online, the world exploded.
"100% from the field? That's NBA 2K-level stuff!"
"He did it again! Last time against Boston he was also perfect!"
"Chen Yan's got some kind of vendetta against the Celtics."
"26 in one quarter — he's not human tonight!"
"A one-man carnival. The court is his stage."
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