NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Coming Off the Bench... What the Hell Is This Monster?!

Chapter 4: Coming Off the Bench... What the Hell Is This Monster?!

There was 1 minute and 22 seconds left in the first half. The score: 34–29. New Mexico State was up by five.

Just when it looked like both teams would head into halftime with a narrow gap, things suddenly flipped on their head!

New Mexico State turned up the heat—fast. Their point guard, Doug Brown, used a screen to blow past the defense, attacked the rim hard, and finished through contact—and one!

Then, off some slick ball movement, Noah Richardson and Branson knocked down back-to-back open threes from the perimeter.

Bang! Bang!

Just like that, the scoreboard lit up: 43–29.

A sudden 9–0 run sent New Mexico State into the break with a commanding 14-point lead!

The Texas Longhorns’ bench went quiet. The whole squad looked shell-shocked.

And here’s the thing—a 14-point halftime deficit in the NCAA ain’t the same as in the NBA.

The NBA runs on a four-quarter system, 12 minutes each. Total game time? 48 minutes.

But the NCAA splits the game into two 20-minute halves—only 40 minutes total.

On top of that, instead of the NBA’s 24-second shot clock, college ball runs on 35 seconds per possession.

Translation? Everything’s slower.

There are plenty of NCAA games where the final score doesn’t even hit 60.

A 13–14 point gap in this kind of game? That’s huge. And it’ll mess with a player’s head.

While the teams hit the locker rooms, Texas cheerleaders hit the court, dancing hard to boost morale.

No lie—the University of Texas had some serious heat on the squad. Beautiful girls, killer moves, and eyes that could melt steel.

But the fans weren’t having it. No one felt like clapping.

They knew—if the Longhorns didn’t switch something up, this was gonna be an early exit. One and done in the Top 64!

---

”Oh! The No. 4 seed Texas Longhorns are in trouble!”

”They just hit a black hole at the end of the first half—New Mexico State drops a 9–0 run and suddenly it’s a 13-point game!”

The two commentators didn’t hold back, breaking down the game during the halftime show.

”New Mexico State came ready. Better chemistry, better hustle. Texas? They still look like they’re warming up out there.”

”Let’s see what Coach Barnes has up his sleeve for the second half. If they lose this, it’ll be the first major upset of March Madness this year!”

And you know how fans love a good underdog story. As soon as the word ”upset” was dropped, people leaned in.

That’s the magic of March Madness—crazy upsets and dark horse runs. It’s why the whole country tunes in.

---

Back in the Texas locker room, the mood was heavy.

Coach Rick Barnes was scribbling furiously on the whiteboard, laying out his second-half strategy. Off-ball screens, cuts, floor spacing—he was drawing it all up.

The players sat quietly, locked in—or maybe just shell-shocked.

Kevin Durant, the team’s undisputed star, sat with his head down. He should’ve been the one rallying the troops, but... that wasn’t him.

Durant was introverted. A silent killer on the court, but off it? Not the vocal type.

Coach Barnes had protected him all season—gave him the keys, the green light, the freedom to hoop. But leadership? That was never part of the training.

And once again, Chen Yan wasn’t in the rotation.

The disappointment hit hard. He knew he could help. He was burning to get out there.

”Be patient. Your time’s coming. Stay ready.”

Offensive coach Russell Springman gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Springman believed in Chen. He’d seen what the kid could do in practice—how locked in he was this week. But Springman didn’t control subs. That was all on Coach Barnes.

”Thanks, Coach. I’m ready whenever you need me.”

Chen gave a firm nod, eyes focused.

---

Second half. Game back on.

Coach Barnes’ off-ball screen plays got DJ Augustin some wide-open looks. Two clean threes...

Clang.

Clang.

Both rimmed out.

The crowd groaned. DJ was ice cold tonight.

And it wasn’t just him—all the Longhorns’ perimeter shooters were bricking.

Even the commentator joked:

”Are the Longhorns tryin’ to build a new rim out here? This is straight iron!”

Thankfully, Durant started to heat up.

He nailed a couple of tough mid-range jumpers from the elbow—classic KD stuff. Smooth. Silky. Unstoppable.

But still—one man can only do so much.

Texas had no rhythm. No flow. Durant might’ve been putting points on the board, but the rest of the team? Just standing around.

They looked like a bunch of solo acts instead of a squad.

Time ticked away. The lead hovered around 10.

On the sideline, Coach Barnes looked calm—but under that suit? He was drenched in sweat.

He knew this game was slipping.

---

”Beep!”

Ref’s whistle echoed through the arena. Durant had just attacked the paint again when the ref made the call.

Offensive foul!

The crowd gasped. That was a gut punch.

Durant didn’t argue. Just dropped his head and walked away.

He looked spent.

The cheers from Texas fans were dying out. Morale? In the gutter.

”Oh man! Durant charges in tryin’ to make a play and gets called for a charge!”

”Texas is in deep trouble now. KD needs help—he can’t carry this by himself!”

They weren’t lying. At this point, Texas’ only play was ”give it to KD and hope for the best.”

”This is lookin’ like an upset, folks. Texas just ain’t got the juice tonight.”

”At this rate, Durant’s gonna run outta gas before the final buzzer.”

”No. 4 seed... going down in the first round? This is wild!”

”You think this loss gonna hurt KD’s draft stock?”

Speculation started flying from fans in the stands and viewers at home.

With 11:02 left on the clock, the ref blew the whistle for a TV timeout.

Score: 52–39. New Mexico State still up by 13.

Texas Was Running Out of Time

Rick Barnes knew one thing—if they didn’t turn this around soon, he might as well head home and grab his fishing rod.

”Chen! You’re in after the timeout!”

The huddle had barely formed when Coach Barnes shouted the name everyone least expected.

Caught off guard, Chen Yan instantly straightened his back.

Finally.

The moment he’d been waiting for had come!

”Don’t stress it—treat it like a practice game,” Barnes said, pointing rapidly at the whiteboard, racing against the clock. ”Play your game, attack the paint, help Kevin get open looks, and push the break when you can. Got it?”

Chen Yan nodded, eyes sharp.

The short timeout ended in a flash.

As the buzzer rang, Chen Yan ripped off his warm-up gear and stepped onto the court alongside the starters.

The arena buzzed as the announcers noticed the change.

”Coming out of the timeout, Texas is making a substitution—Justin Mason out, Chen Yan in. A Chinese international student and the only foreign player on the Longhorns roster, he plays the two-guard position. This season, he’s averaging 1.3 points and 1.1 assists a game.”

”Could he be the Longhorns’ secret weapon?”

The sarcasm in the commentators’ tone was obvious. With those numbers, no one was expecting fireworks.

But from the sidelines, Asian fans erupted into cheers.

They knew the odds. A asian player making it to March Madness? That was rare. Getting minutes? Even rarer.

And then—

Ding!

Main Mission [Comeback] Activated. Objective: Help the Texas Longhorns come back and win before the final buzzer!

Rewards: 6 Honor Points, Wade’s Signature Skill [Phantom Step], and unlock the next stage of the Main Mission!

The system’s voice echoed in Chen Yan’s mind.

His already pounding heart skipped a beat.

He glanced at the scoreboard.

Down by 13?

That’s nothing.

Victory—and those rewards—I want it all.

He believed in his talent. He believed in himself.

The comeback started now.

He made his way to the man he’d be guarding—Noah Richardson.

Richardson gave him a sideways look.

”What’s this? Texas waving the white flag or something? Y’all really throwing in a bench warmer now?”

Then, grinning arrogantly, he leaned in.

”I’m about to cook you, bro. You gonna regret stepping on this court.”

Typical trash talk from a guy leading the scoreboard.

Chen Yan had read enough sports novels to know this script. There was always some loud-mouthed villain on the court. Back then, he thought it was just cheesy fiction.

But now, standing here, face-to-face with a real-life trash talker?

Guess art really does imitate life.

A small smirk curled at the corner of Chen Yan’s mouth.

Richardson froze.

The hell’s he smiling at?

Was he being mocked? Clowned right to his face?

Richardson suddenly felt triggered. He wasn’t letting that slide.

But truth was—Chen Yan wasn’t even thinking about him.

In his mind, Noah Richardson didn’t exist in the future NBA. He’d probably end up in a low-tier league or clock into a 9-to-5 after college ball.

Chen Yan didn’t see him as a threat.

Whistle!

The game resumed.

Doug Brown inbounded the ball from the sideline.

Richardson waved for it like a man possessed, thinking he had an easy bucket on Chen Yan.

Doug fed it to him low. Ground pass.

Too predictable.

Just as Richardson bent down to grab it—

Swipe!

Chen Yan darted in from the wing, poking the ball away just before it reached Richardson.

”Snap!”

He didn’t get full control—the ball deflected toward the sideline!

Doug Brown and Chen Yan both launched after it, a full-speed sprint to save the possession.

It was a 50-50 ball...

But Chen was gone—dusted Brown with sheer speed.

”Wooooah!!”

”Damn, that kid is quick!”

The crowd erupted.

Just before the ball rolled out, Chen lunged and grabbed it mid-air. But momentum carried him out of bounds.

Thinking fast, he twisted and fired the ball at Doug Brown’s leg as he flew out.

Bang!

The ball smacked Brown’s thigh and bounced out of bounds.

Chen went tumbling headfirst into the crowd—but luckily, the front-row fans broke his fall.

He wasn’t Shaq, after all. The crowd didn’t scatter like bowling pins.

Durant and DJ Augustin rushed over, grabbing his arms and pulling him to his feet.

The ref blew the whistle and pointed—Texas Ball!

”Wow! Chen came in hot—zero fear, full hustle!”

”Smart play, too. If he’d tried to save it blindly, it could’ve triggered a fast break the other way. Instead, he bounced it off Brown’s leg—earned a possession!”

The commentators, surprised but impressed, nodded in approval.

The fans? They went nuts.

Chen Yan didn’t just win a possession—he earned respect.

Sure, he had a system. But he was the one out there grinding.

Cheats don’t run fast breaks. He did.

No good attitude? No strong will?

Then all the talent in the world won’t help.

Ball inbounded.

Texas back on offense.

DJ Augustin brought it up, left hand shielding the rock, right hand guiding it upcourt.

New Mexico State stayed tough, especially clamping down on Durant.

They knew Durant didn’t like physical contact, so off the ball, they kept bumping into him—trying to mess with his rhythm by staying physical, roughing him up any chance they got.

At the left 45-degree wing near the free-throw line, Durant barely managed to catch the ball after wrestling for position.

But before he could even face up, two defenders from New Mexico State crashed down on him from both sides. They boxed him in tight—one on the left, one on the right—sandwiching him between their bodies.

At this point in the game, it was obvious to anyone watching: Texas had one way out, and his name was Kevin Durant.

Double him up and force someone else to beat you.

That ”someone else” just happened to be Chen Yan.

”KD!!”

Chen Yan shouted, then exploded off the baseline, cutting straight to the hoop without the ball.

Durant’s passing game was average, but his size and freakish wingspan made up for it. As soon as he heard Chen Yan, KD leapt and slung a high pass over the top.

Chen Yan caught it in stride—no wasted motion—then took off!

Marcus Gill, New Mexico’s center, stepped up to contest, but Chen Yan twisted midair, switching hands in flight, and scooped the ball under Gill’s outstretched arm!

The ball danced on the rim for a moment... then dropped through the net.

”Let’s go!”

Durant ran over, hyped, giving Chen Yan a hard high-five. Finally—someone else stepped up. KD could feel the pressure starting to lift.

Bang!

On the other end, New Mexico State missed. Chen Yan boxed out, timed his jump, and yanked down the board with one hand.

But instead of giving the ball to DJ Augustin, he took off on his own.

New Mexico was still setting up their half-court defense—too late.

Chen Yan went full throttle, slicing between Noah Richardson and Branson like a blur.

Then he dropped his shoulder and attacked the rim like a missile.

”Yo—dude’s got NOS in his sneakers!”

BOOM!

One hard step... one huge one-handed slam!

New Mexico State’s defenders barely reacted in time. By the time they realized what happened, Chen Yan was hanging off the rim and the crowd was losing its mind.

First, he pulled off that slick under-the-arm reverse.

Now, a nasty one-arm poster?

In just two plays, Chen Yan had the building shaking!

Texas fans erupted as the score dropped to single digits. The comeback was real—and it had a name.

Chen Yan!

He clenched his fists, roaring in the moment as the crowd pumped him full of adrenaline.

The Longhorn bench was on fire—players jumping up and down, swinging towels and hyping each other.

Back to defense.

New Mexico State brought it up. Richardson called for the ball again, clearly still trying to go at Chen Yan.

Part of it was pride.

But the other part? That annoying smirk Chen Yan gave him—like he already knew what was coming.

According to the scouting report, Chen Yan was supposed to be the weak link, the easy target, the one you exploit.

And honestly, that used to be true.

But not anymore.

Chen Yan crouched low, lurking beside Richardson, baiting him, waiting for the perfect time to strike with his [God-Level Steal].

No full denial. No chest-to-chest defense. Just subtle pressure and fake openings—everything designed to give Richardson a false sense of control.

As soon as they passed it, he was gonna pounce.

But Doug Brown, New Mexico’s point guard, didn’t take the bait. Not because he read the defense—but because their coach told them to slow it down and kill the momentum.

Ironically, that decision started throwing their own rhythm off.

Doug Brown dribbled near the top of the arc, letting the clock run down. With nine seconds left, he called for a pick.

Texas switched smoothly. No daylight. So Doug reset.

Time ticked away.

Finally, with two seconds on the shot clock, Doug panicked and fired the ball to Richardson.

Richardson’s eyes went wide.

”Are you serious right now?”

You ignored me when I had time—and now you want me to bail you out?

Screw it. No choice.

Richardson squared up and chucked a tough shot right in Chen Yan’s face.

But Chen was ready.

He knew Richardson had no other option, so he sprung—long arms extended, full vertical, hands right in the shooter’s grill.

Swish.

Airball.

The buzzer sounded right after.

35-second violation.

The Longhorns clapped it up—this stop was huge.

Every possession mattered now.

Baseline inbound.

DJ Augustin walked it up and stopped just past the three-point line.

Chen Yan sprinted up from the corner, signaling for the ball.

DJ didn’t hesitate—he handed it off. In this moment, DJ knew his job: get the ball to the hot hand.

Chen Yan was cooking.

Two buckets. One rebound. One stop. A poster. And the crowd losing their minds.

He caught the ball and motioned with his off-hand—clear out.

Iso time.

Noah Richardson stepped up, guarding him again.

Chen Yan lowered his stance, started with a slow left-hand dribble... then snatched it hard to the right!

No wasted moves. No dancing. Just clean footwork and speed.

Richardson froze.

Feet stuck.

He was DONE.

”Ohhh!! Filthy move! Bro left him in the dust!”

”Smooth as hell! That’s AI vibes right there!!”

The two commentators went wild.

The crowd stood up—everyone on their feet now.

But Chen wasn’t done.

”Mom! Look—it’s a UFO!” a little kid yelled, pointing to the court.

Chen Yan flew down the lane, untouched, and rose up like a rocket!

Marcus Gill tried to rotate—too late.

BOOM!!!

One more poster! Chen Yammed it right on Gill!

Dude didn’t even get his arms up—Chen was already in the air, riding his shoulders.

The whole arena lost it.

Even New Mexico’s bench was stunned.

You’re telling me this guy averages 1.3 points a game?

This guy??

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