NBA: Journey To Become Unplayable.

The All-Star Game MVP didn't carry the same weight as the regular season award, let alone the Finals MVP, but Lin Yi wasn't bothered by that. To him, standing on that stage again mattered. Winning it for the second straight year felt special.

In NBA history, only Bob Pettit, one of the league's ancient giants, had managed back-to-back All-Star MVPs. And now Lin Yi had joined him. Another line carved into the record books by the league's most relentless record-chaser.

Nearby, Griffin clenched his fists. He'd been smiling all weekend, but inside he was restless. Lin Yi had become the kind of benchmark he couldn't ignore. "Alright," he muttered to himself, "that's the standard now. That's the mountain."

LeBron, for his part, felt the pressure differently. The more he played alongside Lin Yi, the more he realized how much harder it would be to face him come playoff time. That sense of looming danger only grew stronger after tonight.

Kobe had gone at it as fiercely as ever, but age was catching up with him. Losing on his home floor stung, yet it wasn't the kind of scar that would keep him awake the way it might have ten years earlier. When Lin Yi caught sight of Kobe sharing a laugh with Shaq afterward, he couldn't help but sigh.

Shaq cracked a joke in his usual booming tone: "By the time your kid learns to hoop, Shareef's already gonna be in the league!"

Kobe just smirked. Maybe reconciliation was real, maybe it wasn't—but at least they were talking.

Lin Yi's acceptance speech was short and to the point. He even slipped in a New Year's greeting to Chinese fans.

Stern blinked, confused. "What did he just say? Something about… homework?"

..

In front of televisions across China, students groaned in unison. Nothing like being reminded about unfinished assignments by your basketball idol.

"Lin Yi, you traitor!" one kid blasted on Weibo. "I was ready to binge on games all weekend, and now I feel guilty!"

Another typed furiously: "Lin, even if you tell me to study, you can't stop me from becoming your fan. But seriously… this hurts."

A third fan tried switching sides in mock protest: "That's it. I'm moving to Durant's camp. Thirty years of loyalty start today."

Half an hour later, that same fan sheepishly admitted: "Okay, fine, Durant's jumper is smooth, but I'm back. Gotta finish my math homework first though…"

..

Lin Yi had no idea his casual remark had sparked chaos online. Parents, meanwhile, applauded. Watching basketball was one thing—an idol reminding kids to study? That was rare.

He'd always been different in that way. Even with his sneaker line doing well, he wasn't about to milk fans dry. When one buyer tagged him online after purchasing 100 pairs of his Death sneakers and begged for an autograph, Lin Yi had replied: "Take it easy. Shoes aren't worth squandering such huge amounts on."

He later mailed the guy some signed sneakers for his efforts.

He still remembered the days when instant noodles were dinner, when catching a game or buying a pair of shoes meant making sacrifices. Maybe that's why he refused to let profit come out of such squander.

Later that night, holding the MVP trophy, deep in thought about his future.

Before Lin Yi could drift too far in thought, Curry bounced up to him. The young guard reached out and tapped the trophy again, the same as last year.

"You know," Curry grinned, "last time I touched it, I won the Rising Stars MVP and the Three-Point Contest. Touch it again now, maybe next year I sneak into the All-Star Game too!"

Lin Yi laughed before flicking his forehead. "Hey, keep dreaming. In the East, you'd have a shot. In the West? Those guard spots are brutal."

The All-Star break wrapped, and just like that, everyone scattered. Players boarded flights, coaches hit their offices, and storylines drifted back to their home markets.

Lin Yi, Shaq, and D'Antoni headed back to New York together. The headlines in Los Angeles could wait. The Knicks had their eyes set on something bigger—an 18th straight win, tying a franchise record.

…

At the Knicks' facility, the team mood was still riding high. Livingston even came in on crutches, determined to sweat alongside his teammates. He could only manage upper-body drills, but his presence meant something.

"A team's spirit," Marbury noted from the sideline, "isn't built on wins alone. It's this. The atmosphere. The commitment."

The All-Star Weekend marked a natural divide in the season. The stretch run wasn't for the faint of heart. Around the league, teams made moves—Perkins shipped out to Oklahoma City, Jeff Green to Boston. Both sides knew why.

The Celtics wanted another body to throw at Lin Yi in the playoffs, someone to ease the load on Garnett. The Thunder wanted muscle to back their young stars and maybe stand tall against Dallas.

Lin Yi read the trade news and thought, "Good. The stronger the West gets, the better chance someone knocks off Dirk and the Mavs."

The coaching carousel was shifting, too. Sloan, a titan with over a thousand wins, had finally stepped away. His rift with Deron Williams had been the last straw.

Elsewhere, Baron Davis and Mo Williams swapped homes, while whispers circled about the Heat sniffing around Yi Jianlian. That didn't happen—the Wizards saw him as a cornerstone after the Arenas fiasco. For once, Yi's reputation as a good soldier worked in his favor.

As February 24 rolled around, all eyes turned to Madison Square Garden. The Knicks were hosting the Bucks, with history within reach. One more win would equal the longest winning streak in franchise history.

The Garden crowd had been buzzing ever since Lin Yi's All-Star MVP speech. The city was alive with its own map war—New Yorkers talking trash about Los Angeles, defending their star as one of their own.

From the opening tip, the Knicks looked sharp. The Bucks struggled to keep pace. D'Antoni tweaked rotations, O'Neal volunteered to save his legs, and Whiteside continued to grow into his role.

Everything pointed to another win… until luck decided otherwise.

Because just when it felt like the Knicks were about to coast past Milwaukee, the basketball gods played another cruel trick.

An accident. Another one.

...

Please do leave a review, helps with the book's exposure.

Feel like joining a Patreon for free and subscribing to advanced chapters?

Visit the link:

[email protected]/GRANDMAESTA_30

Change @ to a