NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 270: Chapter 270: The Demon Sword is Unsheathed, Chen Yan Awakens [Bonus Chapter]

TL: 200PS

Chapter 270: The Demon Sword is Unsheathed, Chen Yan Awakens

The fourth quarter opened with both teams riding their starters hard. Playoff minutes were a different world. In the regular season, Duncan often sat early and regularly, averaging about 33 minutes. Now he was pushing near 40 a night, all rest schedules tossed out the window. Phoenix matched that urgency. Every possession in this round had a price tag, and nobody was paying it with the bench.

San Antonio struck first.

Duncan bullied his way to his favorite spot and knocked down a baseline jumper from the right side.

83 to 75.

Phoenix answered immediately.

Nash came off a screen, rose with that smooth high arcing release, and buried a mid range pullup.

85 to 75.

Nash was never just a passer. When the game tightened, he could score with the best of them. His lower average this season was less decline and more delegation, because Chen Yan’s arrival meant Nash did not have to carry every bucket himself.

The Spurs kept leaning inside. Duncan drew the double again, then kicked out to Finley at the right wing, a clean 45 degree look from three.

Finley let it fly, but it rimmed out.

Phoenix had a chance to run, but Raja Bell got flustered in traffic, bobbled the ball, and it skipped out of bounds. A turnover they could not afford, even with a lead.

”It’s fine,” Chen Yan said, jogging over. ”One mistake doesn’t change the game.”

Nash echoed him, giving Bell a quick pat on the back. Bell nodded hard. He was not the type to fold from one slip.

Back on the floor, Parker found a seam, sliced to the rim, and banked in a quick two.

Phoenix went right back to their power.

Stoudemire cleared space, drove hard into Oberto, drew contact, and calmly sank both free throws.

87 to 77.

The next stretch was a fistfight. Buckets and misses came in quick bursts, neither side giving an inch.

...

At 6:44, both teams reloaded their main units after a short breather.

Phoenix still led 94 to 85.

San Antonio ball.

Parker crossed half court and swung it to Ginobili. Manu lifted a hand, calling for isolation.

Chen Yan was waiting.

He was not known as an elite stopper, but his size and athleticism gave him a real ceiling when he locked in. Tonight, he was locked in. Ginobili tried two sharp direction changes, but Chen Yan stayed glued.

Most players would reset after that kind of resistance.

Ginobili was not most players.

He bent low, slithered past Chen Yan’s shoulder, and surged into the paint. Both men went up. Chen Yan clearly rose higher, ready to erase the shot.

But the ball slipped past his fingertips anyway.

Ginobili did not release at the top. He twisted midair and flung it almost flat while falling backward, basically shooting from his back. It was the kind of circus finish that could not be blocked, even by someone jumping higher.

The ball kissed the rim, danced twice, then dropped.

Phoenix fans groaned. The shot was absurd.

But that was Ginobili. He might be quiet for minutes, then suddenly hit something that looked like it belonged in a highlight reel.

He landed hard, sliding on his backside, and popped up instantly, not even waiting for help. He knew Phoenix would attack before he could blink.

They almost did.

Diaw pushed the ball up and found Chen Yan on the arc. Chen Yan had a look, but he swung it to Bell in the corner, cleaner angle, wide open.

Bell rose.

Bang.

Front rim and out.

Parker spun, snatched the rebound, and took off without waiting for anyone to organize.

Ginobili filled the lane. Parker hit him in stride.

Manu attacked the rim again. Diaw stepped up, chest square, refusing to give ground.

Contact.

Ginobili, still moving, whipped the ball from behind his head in a bizarre reverse motion.

Beep.

Swish.

And one.

The Spurs bench exploded, clapping and shouting. That was pure Phoenix style speed, turned back on Phoenix.

Ginobili walked to the line through a storm of boos and drilled the free throw.

94 to 90.

Five straight points from Ginobili, and the whole building felt the shift. If the Spurs were a calm lake, Manu was the stone that shattered the surface. Parker was their engine, Duncan their anchor, and Ginobili the wild hand on the steering wheel.

Popovich applauded on the sideline. He had given Manu the green light to hunt his own shot in this quarter. Time was shrinking fast, and a four point gap suddenly looked very real.

Phoenix needed an answer.

D Antoni hovered between calling timeout and letting them play. Nash did not wait. He crossed half court, calm, eyes scanning, and called the set himself.

Chen Yan sprinted along the baseline, curled out left, and caught the pass in rhythm.

From a steep left wing angle, he rose immediately.

Bowen stayed attached, but Chen Yan adjusted midair, leaning just enough to carve space.

The release was smooth, almost casual.

Swish.

97 to 90.

From the broadcast booth, Charles Barkley laughed. ”Man, that is cold blooded. You let him breathe for half a second, he is gonna cash it.”

Kenny Smith nodded. ”That is the difference. Phoenix moved the defense, then Chen Yan punished the shift. Perfect timing.”

That make was huge. It steadied Phoenix right when the Spurs were roaring, and it doubled as history.

With that shot, Chen Yan hit his ninth three pointer of the night, tying the NBA playoff single game record. And with nearly five minutes still on the clock, he had a wide open runway to claim it outright.

D Antoni finally let out the breath he had been holding. Early in the fourth, Chen Yan had played the right way, trusting the team and protecting the lead. But Ginobili’s surge forced the moment.

Now Chen Yan had stepped into it.

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