NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 93: Chapter 93: Unstoppable Pull-Up Shot, Explosive Start!

Chapter 93: Unstoppable Pull-Up Shot, Explosive Start!

Chen Yan gave a firm nod, signaling that he’d fully commit to the coach’s strategy.

He wasn’t about to get carried away just because he’d had a few standout performances.

Chen Yan knew exactly who he was — not an All-Star, not a superstar. He was a rookie.

At best, a rookie with a good-looking jump shot, a high draft pick, and a stat line that caught attention.

But he understood something many didn’t: knowing your role mattered.

It helped build chemistry with your teammates and trust with the coaching staff.

Soon, both teams made their way onto the court through the tunnel.

After the introductions wrapped, the starters from each side gathered at center court.

Wizards starting five:

Gilbert Arenas, DeShawn Stevenson, Caron Butler, Antawn Jamison, Brendan Haywood.

Now, they weren’t quite on the level of San Antonio’s ”GDP” or the Nets’ ”Big Three,”

but make no mistake — the Wizards’ trio could bring serious heat.

Jamison?

Criminally underrated. Quietly dropped over 20,000 points in his career.

And just recently? He torched the Sonics and Lakers with back-to-back 50-point nights.

Butler?

Straight-up aggressive. Dude had been locked up fifteen times by age fifteen.

Tough as nails. Averaging nearly 20 a game in recent seasons.

And Arenas...

Say no more. Dropping buckets was just another day at the office for Agent Zero.

The Suns starting lineup:

Steve Nash, Chen Yan, Grant Hill, Boris Diaw, Amar’e Stoudemire.

Hill once again started in place of Raja Bell.

Sure, Bell had the edge on defense, but Hill brought a smoother one-on-one offensive game.

This was D’Antoni’s most explosive offensive unit.

The ball went up—Stoudemire won the tip.

Nash wasted no time.

He sprinted ahead, pushing the pace like the engine of a Ferrari.

Just past the top of the arc, Nash whipped a smooth behind-the-back pass.

Chen Yan flew in from behind the play, caught it in rhythm—

—pull-up three from just outside the arc!

The Suns’ offensive philosophy was simple:

If you’re open, you shoot.

D’Antoni didn’t mind a miss, but hesitating? That was the sin.

Chen Yan let it fly.

With a 90-rated three-point shot, it felt automatic the moment it left his hands.

”Swish!”

Nothing but net.

Five seconds into the game, and Chen Yan was already on the board with a cold-blooded three.

”Boom! Pull-up triple to start the game!”

”That’s confidence. Chen Yan saw the gap and didn’t blink!”

Back in the CCTV5 studio, Zhang Weiping and Coach Xu were on commentary duty.

In the packed house at the Footprint Center, the crowd exploded.

Chen Yan glanced around. It had been a while since he’d felt this kind of home energy.

And something else caught his eye —

More fans were rocking his jersey.

Taking down the Lakers had won over a lot of hearts.

Now it was the Wizards’ turn.

Arenas walked the ball up, eyes scanning the floor.

Caron Butler broke free off a back screen, cutting hard along the baseline.

But Arenas wasn’t looking to pass.

Not tonight.

He’d already made up his mind — this game was gonna be his show.

One-on-one with Nash, Arenas didn’t bother with finesse.

He bulldozed his way forward, a fullback with a basketball.

Years of training with resistance parachutes gave him ridiculous upper body strength.

Nash tried to hold his ground — but truthfully, two Nashes might not have been enough.

Arenas powered his way into the lane, took one step inside the free-throw line,

and lofted a high floater before Amar’e could rotate.

Bucket.

Wizards on the board, 3–2.

Nash, stoic as always, calmly walked to the baseline to inbound.

He didn’t worry about stopping Arenas. That wasn’t the Suns’ style.

The plan? Outscore the hell outta everyone.

Diaw caught the ball and kicked it back to Nash, who sprinted it past half court.

Hill came up high to set the screen. They ran the two-man action clean.

Nash used the screen, drew help, and hit Hill with the slip pass in the pocket.

Hill caught, pump faked just outside the arc.

Caron Butler bit, leaning the wrong way.

Boom—Hill exploded past him to the rack.

DeShawn Stevenson left Chen Yan in the corner to rotate and help.

Wrong move.

Hill spotted it and swung the pass to the corner.

”Corner triple! Chen Yan!”

Wide open.

Chen Yan pulled the trigger.

”Swish!”

Again.

Pure.

The crowd went wild as Chen Yan held his follow-through,

then casually jogged back on defense.

Sometimes, it felt damn good being the sniper.

”Rookie, you got lucky with that one. But don’t expect another easy shot like that,” DeShawn Stevenson said as he jogged up beside Chen Yan, trying to get into his head.

Stevenson, drafted 23rd overall by the Utah Jazz back in 2000, came into the league with the bold comparison to Michael Jordan on his scouting report. Arrogant template? Absolutely. Reality? Not even close.

Over the years, Stevenson proved to be a decent role player—an 11-points-a-game type with a solid three-ball and some defensive chops. But as far as greatness or Jordan-like status? Not even in the same galaxy. The only real similarity between him and MJ was the mouth. And when it came to trash talk, DeShawn Stevenson was elite—especially when it came to LeBron James. Around the league, he was known as the King’s No.1 hater.

But back to the game.

Arenas had the rock, and once again, he waved off the screen. One-on-one with Nash. He gave a quick crossover between the legs, stepped back—pull-up three!

Splash.

6–5.

Arenas raised his arms in celebration, nodding toward the front-row fans. The boos came raining down, but Gil didn’t flinch—he fed off that energy. Some players folded under pressure. Arenas? He lit up.

Stevenson couldn’t help himself. ”See that? That’s the real No. 0. You? You don’t even deserve to wear that number. Might as well switch jerseys now.”

Chen Yan grinned and fired back. ”Before I switch numbers, you should switch your draft template. Jordan? What is that, 50-year-old Jordan? 60?”

The crowd laughed. Stevenson’s trash talk bounced right off.

Meanwhile, Nash had already brought the ball up the court. No transition chance this time—Washington got back on D.

Stoudemire stepped up to set the screen.

Pick-and-roll. Nash fed him the rock. Mid-range jumper from STAT—off the back iron.

Bang!

And then came Chen Yan—flying outta nowhere.

BOOM!!!

One-handed put-back slam!

The arena erupted.

”OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

”Yo that was nasty!”

”Where did Chen come from?!”

”This dude got EIGHT points already and hasn’t even dribbled the ball!”

Fans couldn’t stop buzzing. And then—

Ding!

Fan Chemistry +1.

The system chimed in.

”Completing highlight plays can boost your fan chemistry.”

”Deshawn! Lock in! Keep an eye on your man!” Wizards coach Eddie Jordan shouted from the bench.

But Stevenson just threw up his hands. ”Man, it’s not that I ain’t trying—dude’s moving like a damn ghost!”

One second, Chen was jawing with Stevenson out by the arc. Next second, he made a quick jab, stopped on a dime, and exploded toward the rim. DeShawn couldn’t keep up—Chen was just too quick, too smooth. They weren’t in the same league when it came to speed and body control.

Back on offense, Arenas finally decided to share the rock.

Suns brought a double team off the pick-and-roll with Haywood. Arenas saw it coming and zipped the ball to the big man. Haywood wasn’t known for scoring—just your typical blue-collar center. He took one stiff dribble, pulled up for a mid-range J—clank.

Boris Diaw snagged the board, pivoted, and instantly looked up.

There he was—Chen Yan, already streaking toward the frontcourt.

Full-court bullet pass.

Perfect.

Right on target near the half-court line.

Chen caught it in stride, eyes locked on Stevenson.

Quick stop at the left wing—45-degree angle.

Chen pulled up.

No hesitation.

Dry pull-up jumper.

”Got it!” Zhang Heli yelled before the ball even touched the rim.

Swish!

Straight cash.

Unreal.

Stevenson was right in his face. Didn’t matter. Chen Yan just didn’t care. The rookie drained it like it was a practice shot.

Three threes.

No fear.

No mercy.

This one wasn’t even a clean look. That was a tough, contested pull-up. Completely unguardable.

The arena was losing its mind.

”Chen~~~~~ YAN!!!”

The DJ stretched his name out, firing up the entire crowd.

The West Arena was shaking now. Fans on their feet. Cameras flashing. The energy was electric.

Chen Yan? Dude was buzzing. Adrenaline pumping. This was what he lived for.

Beep!

Wizards timeout.

Eddie Jordan had no choice but to call it. Chen Yan was too hot. They had to cool him down somehow.

As he jogged back to the bench, Chen dapped up every teammate—chest bumps, high-fives, hyped-up grins all around.

Even Coach D’Antoni cracked a big smile, patting him on the back. ”Damn good work, kid.”

Truth was, D’Antoni hadn’t even drawn anything up for Chen tonight. He just exploded outta nowhere.

And now, the Suns had a whole new weapon on their hands.

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