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Chapter 452 - No Flying In My House

As Toronto's newly crowned main guy, third-year DeRozan had been on a real upswing. With him tweaking his shooting mechanics, his mid-range was still a work in progress, but his three-point touch was noticeably better than what Lin Yi remembered.

So far this season, DeRozan was putting up 23.4 per game—confident, sociable, and without the quiet heaviness he carried in another timeline. Maybe a little too confident lately…

Among the players of the 2009 draft, only Harden wasn't averaging 20+, and that little fact had DeRozan feeling himself. He even changed his group chat nickname to: "DeMar: Going for the scoring title next season."

Honestly? You could understand why he felt bold. His development had been smooth, and his mid-range-heavy game wasn't exactly fashionable in this era. Still, Lin Yi hadn't abandoned the mid-range himself; there were nights when it could save you.

DeRozan's touch had always been soft, so with a cleaner release, his three was bound to come around. And on a rebuilding Raptors team, he had the greenest of lights. If the Thunder hadn't let Durant brick his way into becoming who he is now, who's to say he turns into a scoring machine?

Right before heading to New York, DeRozan fired up the 2009 draft group chat—basically an All-Star lounge—and declared, "New York's next. We're taking down the Showtime. Lin Yi's getting stepped on."

Harden replied: "And if you don't make it back?"

DeRozan shot back: "Then I don't make it back!"

The Knicks had been stumbling recently, and DeRozan smelled an opening. Beat Lin Yi once, and he'd brag about it all year long in the chat. Haven't Griffin and Harden been getting dunked on by Lin Yi every time they cross paths?

So he led his men to New York with a heroic plan to slay Lin Yi.

...

On the 21st, when the Raptors visited the Garden, DeRozan and his crew came out like they were charging into a boss battle.

Lin Yi looked at them and thought, Oh? You're lining yourselves up? Great.

The Raptors' strategy was simple: wear him down. Exhaust the MVP, and the Knicks' offense would be a lot less scary.

So Lin Yi and Paul agreed on a clean split—Lin Yi would anchor the defense, and CP3 would take over the scoring load.

Swat.

Early in the first quarter, Lin Yi sent DeRozan's layup into orbit. DeRozan slapped his chest afterward, still hyped. "A dream doesn't die because of one block!"

Swat.

Swat.

Swat.

A dream does die after that many.

The Raptors' morale hit negative digits. DeRozan just stood there, speechless.

Lin Yi hadn't had this much fun blocking shots since that massacre against Philly. His blocks were down to about two per game this season, mostly because people had stopped challenging him unless they were Kyrie-level fearless.

But tonight? Toronto acted like they had a coupon for unlimited attempts at the rim. Did they not know New York was already known as the Block Capital of the league?

Lin Yi ended the first quarter with a career-high six blocks.

By the second quarter, the Raptors were noticeably quieter. Their plan to exhaust Lin Yi clearly wasn't working.

Outside of DeRozan, they didn't have reliable attackers. No one expected Calderon to go full Spanish kamikaze. And Bargnani… well. Not everyone from Rome fought like a gladiator. Some were more like soft, oven-fresh pizza.

Late in the second, as Paul found his rhythm and the Knicks' shooters started flowing, the lead stretched. Lin Yi, abandoning the ballhandling, kept finding ways to assist.

In the third, the Raptors tried to fire back from deep. DeRozan led the charge, but the more anxious they became, the more they clanged the glass. The Knicks' guards turned into sewer gremlins, scrapping for every rebound.

DeRozan was panicking. If this kept up, Harden would roast him alive in the group chat.

Their personal rivalry went back to college—DeRozan hit two game-winners on Harden back then, and The Beard had been salty ever since. They'd been competing nonstop in the league, too.

And while DeRozan was currently outscoring Harden this season, Lin Yi tonight was playing like a mountain with legs.

But he clenched his jaw.

No way I'm giving up like this.

With two minutes left in the third quarter, DeRozan caught the ball on the wing, hands clenched tight, eyes locked in. He slipped past Klay Thompson with a sharp first step. At this point, with the Raptors struggling and his pride hanging by a thread, DeRozan felt he needed at least one moment tonight he wouldn't be embarrassed to remember.

So he gathered himself, took off, and launched.

For a second, it felt like the whole arena froze. DeRozan rose like a striking axe, carving a path straight toward the rim.

Toronto has always had its high-flyers. After Vince Carter, DeMar was supposed to be the next one to keep the tradition alive—and for a moment, he really did look like he was gliding in on a UFO.

Even the American commentators flinched as he kept rising. Lin Yi had dominated the highlights so thoroughly these past years that people tended to forget… this era still had dunkers who could take the air out of a gym.

He's got it!

DeRozan's dunk attempt was violent—fast, clean, and determined.

But—

Just as he felt the rim within reach, maybe 30 centimeters from his hand, something massive slid across his vision.

A hand.

Lin Yi had been lurking on the weak side the entire time, tracking the play like a shadow. And tonight, his timing on blocks had been ridiculous—his reads, his angles, everything. He looked like he'd borrowed a page from peak Marcus Camby.

Swat!

Lin Yi's right hand smashed the ball out of DeRozan's grip, sending it flying. Madison Square Garden detonated.

On the Knicks' bench, Tony was already waving his towel over his head, shouting, "That's the one! That's the record!"

Commentators everywhere shot up in their seats.

DeRozan, meanwhile, hung in the air a split second longer, stunned. By the time he landed, he wasn't even sure he wanted to attempt another dunk this week—maybe this season.

And Lin Yi? He just looked at him with a small, knowing smile.

The crowd roared back to life.

"MVP—!"

"MVP—!"

"MVP—!"

Phones lit up all around the Garden. Fans watching at home sprinted to Weibo and Twitter.

Because the moment before that block, Lin Yi's stat line was already sitting at 14 points, 19 rebounds, 11 assists, and 9 blocks.

And with that swat on DeRozan—

He hit double digits.

"Unbelievable! Lin just recorded the third quadruple-double of his career!" Barkley practically flailed at the desk.

Rookie year, sophomore year, now year three—one each season.

Lin Yi had done it again.

...

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