NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 70: Chapter 70: Competing with Wade, the Game is Exciting!

Chapter 70: Competing with Wade, the Game is Exciting!

Chen Yan’s style of showboating was different from the norm.

He didn’t overdo it—he made it look smooth, natural, and damn near elegant.

Not flashy. Not over-the-top. Just the right touch of flair.

NBA fans are used to wild celebrations after big buckets—chest thumps, primal screams, over-the-top antics. But Chen Yan’s low-key, confident pose after his buzzer-beater? That was something fresh. Cool. Cold-blooded.

During the quarter break, the arena’s jumbotron replayed Chen Yan’s buzzer-beating three-pointer on a loop—along with his signature ”calm celebration.” The crowd loved it.

Even while Coach D’Antoni was drawing up plays on the whiteboard, Chen Yan kept glancing up at the replay, trying not to smirk.

Yeah, that shot had a bit of luck on it. The rebound bounce, the clock ticking down—it wasn’t all skill.

But hey, a lot of iconic buzzer-beaters in the NBA come with a dash of luck. That doesn’t make them any less legendary.

As the cameras panned across the crowd, fans could be seen imitating Chen Yan’s pose—hands on the chin, chin slightly raised, cool as ice. It was already catching on.

The quarter break didn’t last long, and D’Antoni kept Chen Yan on the floor to start the second.

He was on fire—6-for-6 in the first quarter—and D’Antoni wasn’t about to kill that momentum.

Chen Yan joined Barea, Grant Hill, Kelenna Azubuike, and Matt Barnes on the court.

It was the Suns’ small-ball unit. They’d run it in the last game, and it clicked. D’Antoni wanted to see if lightning could strike twice.

The second quarter opened with a bang.

Smush Parker tried to get flashy—pulling a streetball-style between-the-legs dribble in front of Chen Yan.

Bad move.

Chen read it like a book, swiped the ball clean, and took off down the court.

All five Suns sprinted into transition. Chen pushed the ball hard, got to the three-point line, and without breaking stride—he lobbed it up.

Boom!

Grant Hill elevated, caught the alley-oop mid-air, and hammered it home.

Vintage Hill.

For a second, it felt like 1995 again.

Hill—once hailed as one of Jordan’s successors—was still showing flashes of that athletic brilliance. Injuries had taken a toll over the years, but he still had hops when it counted.

This season, Coach D’Antoni had shifted Hill to the sixth-man role. Hill didn’t complain. No ego. No chasing stats. He just wanted to enjoy the game and finish his career healthy.

Every time teammates hyped up Chen Yan’s dunks or drives, Hill would be the quiet voice of reason—pulling Chen aside and telling him to stay smart, to protect his body. Hill knew too well how brutal injuries could be.

From the bench and the stands, reactions flew in.

”No way! Chen Yan passed the ball?”

”That’s gotta be his first assist in two games!”

”He finally pressed the pass button!”

While the fans went wild over the alley-oop, Chinese netizens online seemed to zero in on one thing: Chen actually passed the damn ball.

Back on the floor, the Suns stuck to their up-tempo game plan.

Even without Nash leading the second unit, J.J. Barea stepped up.

He didn’t have Nash’s surgical passing or floor vision, but the dude played like a firecracker—relentless and explosive.

Two straight drives to the basket. Two finishes through contact. Two fouls drawn.

Barea was bulldozing his way into the paint like a mini cannonball.

And Azubuike? He was finding his groove too.

Compared to last game, his off-ball movement and cuts were more fluid. His reads were sharper. He wasn’t just standing around—he was flowing within the offense.

Matt Barnes drained a transition three, pushing the Suns’ lead even further.

The Heat bench was gassed. Every possession felt like a track meet against Phoenix’s relentless five-out attack.

Barely three minutes into the second quarter, the lead ballooned to 15.

Next dead ball, Dwyane Wade stood up, yanked off his warm-ups, and headed to the scorer’s table.

The message was loud and clear: it was time to hoop.

Pat Riley didn’t hesitate—he threw in ”White Chocolate” Jason Williams and Ricky Davis along with Wade, hoping to turn the tide.

D’Antoni? He kept his second unit in. They were cooking, and he wanted to ride the wave.

Wade wasted no time. First play back, he ran a pick-and-roll with Udonis Haslem. These two had chemistry baked in since Wade’s rookie year—pure instinct.

Azubuike tried to anticipate the screen, jumping ahead to cut Wade off early.

Big mistake.

Wade saw it and hit him with an in-and-out, exploding in the opposite direction.

Azubuike was toast.

Barnes rotated over from the wing to help, trying to bail out his teammate.

Wade hit the brakes mid-lane, baited Barnes into shifting his weight, then hit him with his signature phantom step—quick shift left, explosive plant off his right.

Gone.

One-handed jam. Vintage Flash.

Wade landed, screaming with fire in his eyes, then looked straight at Chen Yan.

That look said it all: This is how the phantom step is really done, rookie.

Chen Yan felt the challenge. There was only one way to respond.

Answer back.

Suns’ possession.

Barea brought it up, called for a clear-out, then tossed it to Chen Yan on the left wing.

Ricky Davis slid over to guard him. The same Ricky Davis who once shot at his own hoop just to chase a triple-double rebound. That dude. The league had to change the rules because of him.

Chen Yan already worked him in the first quarter—Ricky’s D was lazy at best.

Now? Showtime.

Chen hit a smooth between-the-legs dribble, watched Ricky lean in too eager—and BOOM—quick crossover, gone.

Ricky didn’t even try to recover.

Wide open lane.

But just as Chen cocked back to drive, Wade came flying in from the wing.

He was hunting a block.

Wade’s swat timing was elite—historic level for a guard. Chen knew he couldn’t mess around.

Right as Wade closed the gap, Chen planted, gathered—and fired off [Magic Shadow].

His footwork flowed like water. No stutter, no pause.

He glided to the opposite side of the rim and kissed a reverse layup off the glass.

Bucket.

Wade skidded past, confused and a step late.

He’d seen every Eurostep in the book—but this? Chen’s rhythm and footwork didn’t match any known pattern.

Wade’s pride flared. No more smiles. No more ass-pats.

Now it was personal.

Next Heat possession, Wade ran another pick-and-roll and hit a soft floater just outside the restricted area. Pure touch.

Chen brought it back. Two off-ball screens cleared his path. He glided into the paint for a silky layup.

Wade’s turn.

He isolated Azubuike up top, sized him up, spun off contact, and hit a fadeaway from the midrange. Net.

Suns came down again. Chen took Ricky Davis, shook him with a jab, then nailed a stop-on-a-dime midrange pull-up.

Swish.

It was back and forth. A battle of superstars. Each bucket was an answer. Each possession brought the crowd higher.

”That’s how you show up in a rivalry,” the commentator shouted. ”Chen Yan, just his second game—and he’s trading blows with D-Wade like a seasoned vet!”

The arena was shaking. Fans were on their feet.

This wasn’t just a game anymore—it was a duel.

Check my Pâtreon for Advanced Chapters

Pâtreon .com/Fanficlord03

Change (â) to (a)

https://discord