NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 381: Chapter 381: Pressure Spikes, Dancing on Team USA’s Defensive Line

Chapter 381: Pressure Spikes, Dancing on Team USA’s Defensive Line

The moment Yao Ming disappeared into the tunnel, the mood inside the arena shifted.

On the floor, shoulders tightened. In the stands, people stopped breathing normally. Yao was not just the tactical anchor, he was the emotional center of the entire team. Watching him leave felt like watching the spine get pulled out of the lineup.

But nobody collapsed.

Because Chen Yan was still out there.

Now every set of eyes found him. Teammates, fans, and especially Team USA. With Yao gone, China’s dual engine became a single engine. From here on out, the scouting report was simple. Load up on Chen, force anyone else to make plays.

Chen understood it too. The weight did not change his expression, but it did settle on his shoulders.

Wade stepped to the line and knocked down both free throws.

Then Coach K saw the same thing everyone else saw, and he reacted like a man who had coached a thousand tournament games.

”Full court. Full court. Do not let them walk it up,” he shouted.

Team USA’s pressure snapped into place.

...

Chen brought it up and immediately felt Chris Paul hunting at the ball. He slid into a big behind the back dribble and avoided the first swipe.

He tried to accelerate.

Wade came flying from the side, a second trap arriving right on the seam. Wade read the bounce, leaped into the lane, and tried to blow up the possession.

Chen could not change direction in that instant. Instead, he turned his body sideways and shielded the ball with his frame.

Bang.

Wade could not stop in time and smashed into him.

The whistle came fast. Offensive pressure, defensive desperation, and Wade’s first foul of the game.

Wade popped up with a shrug. One foul meant nothing to him.

China inbounded from the sideline.

Off ball, Wade stayed glued to Chen. The speed was suffocating, like trying to shake a shadow that ran faster than you did.

The inbound clock ticked down.

Yi Jianlian panicked and forced the pass late, staring at Chen and ignoring Wade’s position completely.

Slap.

Wade sprang up and knocked it away clean.

Team USA was gone the other direction, and on the break, LeBron finished with a simple 1 handed dunk.

73 to 66.

The lead felt bigger than the number.

...

China came back to attack, and Team USA pressed again.

Most guards in this situation would pick up their dribble immediately and throw an emergency pass. That was how turnovers happened. Once you stop your dribble, you enter a dead state, and Team USA’s defenders read your next move like subtitles.

Chen did the opposite.

He trusted his handle and his legs.

With quick in and out dribbles, he burst up the sideline, staying alive, staying slippery, refusing to surrender the ball.

And Team USA responded with the kind of respect that looked like punishment.

Wade, Paul, and LeBron converged.

A 3 man net.

For a moment, the floor shrank around Chen. Then he rose and fired a high, difficult pass out of the trap.

Sun Dasheng caught it in space, wide open on the perimeter.

He hesitated.

That half second was everything.

By the time he gathered, LeBron was already there.

Sun forced the 3 anyway.

Clank.

Team USA’s mobility swallowed the shot the same way their pressure swallowed ball handlers. Even when they did not get the steal, they recovered like rubber bands snapping back into place.

On the sideline, the broadcast voice rose with the moment, describing the chaos as it happened. Another voice followed, blunt and admiring, pointing out what the whole world was seeing, only a true superstar drew this kind of attention, and only a true superstar could survive it.

Howard secured the rebound and hit Paul.

Paul crossed mid court and swung to Wade. Wade took 1 hard step, kicked to Anthony on the perimeter.

Anthony rose immediately.

Miss.

Wang Zhizhi pulled down the defensive rebound.

Chen dropped back to receive the outlet. It had become his international habit, retreating to rescue possessions, taking pressure off his teammates by simply being the one guy who could survive the pressure.

He got the ball and moved up.

Again, Paul and Wade came at him, reaching, trapping, testing his patience, trying to grind him down.

They had not taken it from him yet, but the pressure was doing its job, forcing effort, forcing energy, forcing every dribble to matter.

This time, Chen changed the rhythm.

Paul lunged.

Chen snapped a crossover and slipped past him.

It looked simple on television, but it was not. Paul’s center of gravity was low, his hands were fast, and he had led the NBA in steals for a reason.

Chen closed the gap with Wade, then spun by him with surgical precision.

Now the building really woke up.

Fans had seen Team USA guards do this for years. Tonight, for the first time, they were watching a Chinese guard break elite defenders the same way.

Chen’s dribbling was flashy only because it was clean. Every move connected, no wasted motion, no performance for performance’s sake, just the fastest route through bodies.

He weaved forward, head up, eyes calm.

LeBron, seeing 2 defenders already beaten, backed off a step. He did not crowd. If he got turned too, the lane would be open, and Chen would be operating in empty space.

Chen watched LeBron retreat, then suddenly lowered his stance.

LeBron tensed, ready for the drive.

And Chen did the opposite.

He stopped on a dime and rose from beyond the international arc.

The fake acceleration, the sudden brake, the pull up.

LeBron closed hard, pushing off his back foot to contest, but Chen’s lift was high and his release was clean.

Swish.

73 to 69.

The ball dropped through like it had a reservation.

The arena detonated. Cheers crashed down in waves. Even the broadcast voices could not stay contained, praising the move and the shot, marveling at the ability to stop that fast and still rise into balance.

Chen gave almost nothing back.

No flex. No roar.

He jogged back with a blank expression and only slapped hands with teammates in passing.

He knew exactly why he was on that floor.

Not to perform.

To win.

And they were still trailing.

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