NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 237: Chapter 237: Chen Yan and Iverson Clash, Teammates Become Casualties!

Chapter 237: Chen Yan and Iverson Clash, Teammates Become Casualties!

”Jordan would’ve gone speechless watching that play, and Drexler might’ve cried.”

”Chen Yan’s playing with pure confidence tonight—just fearless basketball.”

”Even Camby didn’t know what just flew past him!”

”To hang in the air that long and still finish the layup... that’s unreal talent.”

”His timing before the catch was insane. He fooled the entire defense in one move!”

The crowd inside the arena was electric, and fans watching across the world felt the same rush. Difficult plays like that always sent adrenaline through every viewer. For fans back home, watching their idol pull off that kind of highlight on the biggest stage of the NBA playoffs was beyond thrilling.

”Good pass, Grant!” Chen Yan said as he jogged back to defense, patting Hill on the shoulder.

Hill smiled, ever humble. ”Your cut was perfect. I just threw it where you were heading.”

On the next Denver possession, Anthony Carter barely crossed half court before Iverson called for the ball.

He was irritated with the officials from the previous play—and there was only one way Allen Iverson knew how to respond: by scoring.

Facing Raja Bell, Iverson began a series of tight crossovers near the top of the key. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

George Karl frowned from the sideline. Bell was one of the league’s top perimeter defenders. Going one-on-one against him repeatedly wasn’t the smartest choice. But Iverson had earned the right to take those chances.

After a few sharp dribbles, Iverson exploded forward, then suddenly slowed at the free-throw line—a hesitation that froze Bell just enough for him to read the defense.

”Bang!”

He shifted his weight, snapping the ball between his legs into his signature move—the butterfly crossover.

”Ohhhhhh!”

In an instant, Iverson slid past Bell, and the crowd erupted.

Raja Bell’s legs wobbled, then gave out completely. He fell backward, landing hard on the floor as Iverson rose into a jumper.

A clean shake. A perfect highlight.

Bell lay there, motionless for a second, his pride wounded. Getting crossed by Iverson wasn’t shameful—most defenders had been—but being dropped by the veteran version of AI still stung.

Iverson’s jumper from the free-throw line swished through the net.

51–44, Nuggets.

The Denver bench erupted. Carmelo Anthony and J.R. Smith were waving towels like madmen.

That bucket didn’t just score points—it sent a message.

As Iverson jogged back, he shot Chen Yan a grin. ”Hey, I just dropped your teammate. What are you gonna do about it?”

Chen Yan smirked. ”Raja, set a screen for me next play. I’ll get you a bucket back.”

He patted Bell’s back as they lined up for offense.

Bell was moved—and fired up. Before Chen even called for the ball, Bell hustled up to the high post to set a screen.

Chen stood at the top of the key, watching. He pointed left, signaling Bell to shift the screen to the opposite side.

The moment Bell adjusted—Chen exploded.

”Bang!”

A sharp one-handed in-and-out move sent him slicing through traffic. First Iverson, then Kenyon Martin—then, accidentally, his own teammate Raja Bell.

Bell tried to recover and reposition for another screen, but Chen’s footwork was so quick that Bell’s balance betrayed him. His knees buckled, his sneakers slid, and he hit the hardwood for the second time in a single play.

Chen’s movement had confused the entire floor—opponents and teammates alike.

”Damn it!” Bell cursed under his breath as he fell again.

Never in his career did he imagine he’d get crossed up by his own teammate. Watching Chen charge into the paint, Bell could only lie there, staring up in disbelief.

Chen took one long stride into the lane, planted, and launched himself into the air.

Boom!

The rim thundered as he threw down a ferocious dunk.

The arena’s DJ roared into the mic, drawing out his name—”Chennnnnnn Yaaaaaan!”—and the crowd erupted into chaos.

Chen turned with a grin, glancing at Iverson. ”That one’s for you, Allen.”

Iverson chuckled, shaking his head. ”We’ll see.”

Their words sounded like trash talk, but there was respect underneath it—a recognition between two scorers who lived for the same thrill.

Behind them, Raja Bell finally got up, rubbing his back with a groan. ”You two keep fighting,” he muttered. ”I’ll just keep being the sacrifice.”

The camera caught Bell’s deadpan expression, and even the commentators couldn’t hold back their laughter.

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