Champion Rules

Chapter 95 091: The Sacred Flame of June Has Been Touched Ahead of Schedule (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)

According to traditional thinking, the match between Lynch and Dirk Nowitzki must be a clash of opposing forces.

It's only natural that the best defensive player would match up against the best offensive player.

But the crazy New Yorkers tore the script to shreds.

Why insist on playing defensively? Why just stand by and watch Dirk Nowitzki showcase his skills?

We'll draw our swords too! And then we'll fencing!
Rather than having Lynch engage in an uncertain defensive battle with the German machine, it would be better to unleash the offensive talent of this all-around warrior.

Dirk Nowitzki is indeed very strong, but his scoring still mainly comes from jump shots.

Since it's a jump shot, there will definitely be fluctuations in shooting touch.

Lynch is different; his finishing around the basket is tougher and his efficiency is more consistent.

Since defense can't solve the problem, let's use offense.

Jason Terry dribbled the basketball beyond the three-point line, Lynch's provocative words still echoing in his ears.

Stephon Marbury smirked, "Little princess, do you know Caesar is not someone to mess with?"

Enraged, the assassin, known as "The Jet," immediately called for Dampier to set a screen.

Lin Qi knew exactly what he meant. If Lin Qi didn't accept the challenge from this hothead who was eager to be fucked, he would seem rather unromantic.

Lynch decisively switched positions to the jet.

Eric Dampier excitedly sank into the low post, his rough back muscles tormenting Marbury's small weight.

As a formidable second-best center in the West, scoring isn't his forte, but he's still confident in his ability to post up point guards.

Jason Terry didn't pass the ball; at that moment, all he could see was that arrogant King of New York.

He's going to beat him and shut him up!

The guard from Seattle quickly dribbled between his legs, trying to shift Lynch's weight.

Although Lynch possesses top-tier agility for his size, he still struggles against a nimble guard like Terry, knowing he can't keep up with his speed.

Therefore, he cleverly maintained a suitable defensive distance, with his arms outstretched, making the most of his advantages.

Seeing Lynch so far away, Terry smirked. He suddenly gathered the ball, took a step back, and launched a three-pointer.

Terry felt this shot was particularly good; his signature step-back three-pointer had pierced the throats of countless powerhouses, and the boos from Madison Square Garden had turned into a triumphant symphony in his ears.

You're the fucking princess!
But the spotlight on the dome was suddenly cut off by a dark, overwhelming shadow. Lynch had given Terry a lot of space, but his arms were long enough. Combined with precise timing of his jump, Lynch delivered a "fuck your basketball dream" block!
The seasoned Sam Cassell sprinted forward almost the instant the block was completed, grabbed the ball just before it went out of bounds, and then launched a lightning-fast run across the court, easily scoring a layup.

Despite a 4-0 lead, the Dallas Mavericks' unstoppable offense was stifled by the Knicks' offense at Madison Square Garden.

In the footage, Sam Cassell laughs and throws a punch. Josh Howard's normally menacing face appears quite handsome against the backdrop of Cassell's signature crooked smile.

Lin Qi shook his head as he walked toward Marbury: "Go and comfort your little princess, don't let her cry."

Jason Terry gritted his teeth; he suddenly regretted his decision.

If he had chosen to drive straight and shoot, he wouldn't have been publicly humiliated by that New York madman.

In this possession, Terry once again had the ball and ran a pick-and-roll with Dampier.

Dampier swore that Marbury's hips were practically crushed by his own buttocks. Like a heavy truck running over a roadside can, like a plus-size mature woman tormenting a high school boy.

But Jason Terry just wouldn't pass the ball out.

The jet engine roared, and Terry seized the opportunity to accelerate and break through, easily gaining a positional advantage before raising his hand for a layup.

Just as the basketball was about to bounce off the backboard, Lynch flicked the bottom of the ball with his fingertip. The basketball immediately lost its spin and slumped softly against the side of the rim.

He once again thwarted Terry's efforts!

"Damn it!" Terry's pupils dilated; he had just completely surpassed Lynch!

Lynch's strategy of trading length for speed was correct. He couldn't always stop Terry, but he also sent a signal—don't fucking think that calling out my name is an easy thing, give up that idea as soon as possible!
"The second block, Jason Terry's choice to challenge Lynch was a mistake. Did he think he was dealing with a slow, big guy?" Kevin Harlan had no idea what Terry was thinking.

Young Avery Johnson had no idea what Terry was thinking, so he started yelling at him from the sidelines.

"You damn Nigger, has your brain been fried by the Texas sun?! What are you doing?! Give it to Dirk, give the damn ball to Dirk, my nigger!"

Jason Terry shook his wrist in frustration, admitting that he had been blinded by anger and had been too eager to respond to Lynch.

But going one-on-one with Lynch is not an easy task. He now understands why Anthony, who was so strong in the Finals last season, seemed to be unable to play in the Eastern Conference Finals.

Lynch's defense can completely change the level of an offensive player.

The game continued, and Stephon Marbury drove hard against Terry.

Terry's greatest weapon on the defensive end is his quick hands, but steals are not the whole story of defense.

Throughout his career, Jason Terry was unable to make any positive defensive contributions to the teams he played for.

Seeing Marbury drive straight into the paint, Dirk Nowitzki had to rush back to the paint; he couldn't just watch his team continue to fall behind.

Marbury jumped up inside the paint and found Michael Pietrus on the weak side.

TNT commentator Kevin Harlan shouted, "The Frenchman is throwing so fast!"

"Shh!"

7 is better than 0!

Michael Pietrus is a standard 3D wing, a less productive version of Caldwell-Pope.

He possesses excellent physical attributes, solid defense, decent shooting, but poor ball-handling skills.

Players with these technical characteristics may not become superstars, but they can become excellent supporting players.

Lynch thought that acquiring Pietrus in exchange for a 09 first-round pick and a 06 second-round pick was a good move, since the Knicks also had a 09 first-round pick from the Timberwolves.

Pietrus raised three fingers to retreat on defense, experiencing the joy of playing the power forward position.

Under normal circumstances, it's not so easy for him to get into an open space.

But when he plays the power forward position, he doesn't need to move around much, and the opponent will leave him open to protect the rim.

The feeling of victory grew even stronger at this moment.

However, the Mavericks finally broke their scoring drought in this possession.

Dirk Nowitzki drove hard to the basket and then pulled up for a mid-range jumper over Pietrus, scoring the basket.

"The French were quickly defeated by the Germans!" Kevin Harlan said for the second time today.

Clare Wilkens didn't seem to care about conceding the goal; he just calmly chewed his gum.

Could Dirk Nowitzki maintain his perfect shooting accuracy throughout the entire game against this kind of defense? Obviously not.

Michael Pietrus may have a bullied-looking face, but he's actually a very aggressive defender who constantly puts physical contact on his opponents. Like a cactus, every touch comes at a bloody price.

On the defensive end, Lynch will continue to use pick-and-rolls to target Nowitzki, further increasing his workload and exposing Nowitzki to the high-temperature furnace of both offense and defense.

He can't stay accurate forever.

What followed was a thrilling offensive battle for Knicks fans.

Both sides scored a lot of goals, with Dirk Nowitzki tormenting Michael Pietrus with his diverse shooting skills.

Many people mistakenly believe that Dirk Nowitzki couldn't play with his back to the basket during this period, but in fact, his back-to-the-basket efficiency was even higher than Duncan's.

His real problem is that he's not very willing to play with his back to the basket; he still hates physical contact deep down, especially with someone like Michael Pietrus.

Whenever the Frenchman roughly braced his lower back with his elbow and rammed his supporting leg with his knee, the elegant German felt as if he were touching a hot iron.

This subconscious avoidance sealed his ability to turn his back.

Dirk Nowitzki's skills are actually pretty much perfect this season, but his mentality isn't strong enough yet.

So he kept facing up and shooting. As a 213cm center, he didn't even have the desire to back down Michael Pietrus.

Lynch, on the other hand, tormented Dirk with aggressive drives and back-to-the-basket moves.

Every time Lynch raised his hand to call for a screen, the cheers at Madison Square Garden reached a new climax.

Lynch had an easy time one-on-one with Dirk Nowitzki. If he couldn't break through, he would turn to back off, and if double-teamed, he would pass the ball. Dirk Nowitzki was helpless.

In the first half, Dirk was able to maintain his offensive efficiency.

But this extreme exhaustion on both offense and defense finally revealed its ferocious fangs in the third quarter.

Nowitzki's once-proud shooting accuracy began to betray him, with his jump shots, which used to go in smoothly, now hitting the front of the net one after another.

The Mavericks' head coach stood on the sidelines, anxiously tugging at his tie, watching helplessly as Nowitzki's shooting arc became increasingly straight.

The Germans had to pass the ball to others, but they weren't as threatening as Dirk Nowitzki. Forcing Nowitzki to give up his shot was already a success.

Lenny Wilkens knew his tactical poison was working, and it was only a matter of time before he killed the Mavericks.

Dirk Nowitzki was beginning to decline, but Lynch showed no signs of slowing down. In the sixth minute of the third quarter, Lynch once again appeared in front of Nowitzki using a screen.

The German's long, blond hair clung awkwardly to his pale forehead. As Lynch volleyed the ball and collided with Dirk Nowitzki's chest, he could clearly hear the German's hidden groan of pain in his throat.

Nowitzki roughly grabbed Lynch's jersey—don't think Dirk is some innocent white lotus rising from the mud; those who succeed in the NBA are no pushovers.

Dampier also came over to help defend, but Lynch was not affected at all. He leaned on Nowitzki and forced a layup, still scoring despite the contact!

Lynch barked angrily at Nowitzki, while Dirk simply shook his head and walked away.

"28 points! This is destined to be another high-scoring night for Lynch!" Kevin Harlan could see that Lynch's desire for victory was inexhaustible today. He had entered a killing mode, just like when he took down his nemesis Shaq last season.

What puzzled Kevin Harlan was that Dirk Nowitzki had never provoked Lynch.

Yes, Mark Cuban's big mouth is annoying.

Yes, the jets' trash talk is nasty.

But none of that has anything to do with Dirk Nowitzki.

None of that would have made Lynch so cruel to the mild-mannered German.

As the current number one MVP in the league, Dirk has always maintained a low profile.

Why does Lynch look like he's about to dismember Dirk?
Just to prove he can beat the number one MVP?
This basket gave the Knicks a 9-point lead, forcing Avery Johnson to call a timeout.

"It's time to take a breather." On the Knicks' bench, head coach Lenny Wilkens glanced at the clock—with 5 minutes and 42 seconds left in the third quarter, the team was leading by 9 points, a golden window for their star players to recover their energy.

But Lynch refused.

"No need, let's just wipe them out in one fell swoop and break their backbone completely!"

Lin Qi's gaze sharpened; he was determined to deliver the fatal blow.

He wanted to turn the game into garbage time.

He didn't want to give the Dallas Mavericks any chance.

Because Lynch knew that this strong Western team was very likely to step onto the final battlefield in June—considering that history might deviate, Lynch could only say very likely.

If the Knicks can beat the Pistons and the Heat, then they'll have to beat the Mavericks too.

Because nobody remembers those guys who made it to the Finals but lost.

So Lynch wants to beat the Dallas Mavericks; he wants to prove himself tonight.

Lenny Wilkens didn't argue with Lynch: "Fine, but stay calm."

"Ah."

Avery Johnson predicted that Lynch might be benched, as Lynch hadn't rested since the third quarter, so he didn't let Dirk rest.

"Use this time to catch up. We're number one in the West, and our goal is the championship. We can't let those bastards humiliate us!"

Dirk Nowitzki clenched his fist, but when he stood up and saw Lynch continue playing, his fist instantly relaxed.

"Damn it!" Dirk's fingertips trembled as the usually mild-mannered German swore in his native language on the field.

Avery Johnson also changed tactics on the fly: "Josh, double-team Lynch, ignore the others!"

The game continued, and Michael Pietrus continued to keep the German team bogged down, making it impossible for them to get any shooting space.

Finally, Nowitzki passed the ball to Jason Terry, but Marbury stole it the moment Terry touched it.

The cheers at Madison Square Garden felt like a cage to Dirk, making him feel immense pressure.

Lynch faced Nowitzki again, and just as he was about to turn his back to him, Josh Howard arrived, waving his long arms.

But Lynch was no longer a rookie in the league, and he calmly passed the ball to Marbury.

Lynch hadn't embarrassed Marbury in front of Terry, and Marbury hadn't disappointed Lynch either.

The net rolled, and amidst the shouts of the young general and the increasingly gloomy expression on the jet's face, the point difference widened to double digits, 12 points.

"Now, who is the unqualified number two?" the New York Lone Wolf roared at his opponent, veins bulging on his neck.

He will never forget the humiliation of last season's Eastern Conference Finals, and he will never let anyone bring up similar things about him again.

Josh Howard dribbled the ball and drove to the mid-range, drawing Lynch's attention before passing the ball to Dampier.

Dampier had barely lifted his feet off the ground when he was met with a barrage of blood from Lynch.

Dampier stumbled to the ground, shaking his head in exasperation. "You guys didn't pass to me when Marbury was guarding me, but now that Lynch is guarding me, you're passing pretty fast!"

The Mavericks' morale was crumbling, and Lynch's catch-and-shoot three-pointer in transition accelerated the process.

Lin Qi received a pass from Marbury as soon as he reached the three-point line and took the shot before the Mavericks' defense was fully settled.

"A 15-point deficit! My God, the game might not even need a fourth quarter! The Western Conference leaders are being scorched by hellfire!" Kevin Harlan never expected the Western Conference leaders to be so thoroughly humiliated by the Eastern Conference leaders.

Lin Qi pounded his chest muscles, beads of sweat sliding down the grooves of his muscles.

Behind him, Dirk Nowitzki stood frozen in place, his blond hair soaked dark with sweat.

Lynch, like a bloodthirsty wolf, utterly tore the Germans apart.

On the sidelines, Lenny Wilkens chewed his tasteless gum, his gaze piercing through the boiling stadium.

The unconventional idea of ​​five all-around players creating maximum space, with a super ball-handler using invincible one-on-one attacks to destroy the defense, both excited and terrified the veteran coach.

He felt as if he had touched the future.

If Lynch still had the ability to control the universe, would this be the ultimate answer to end everything?

The Mavericks have collapsed. Dirk Nowitzki hasn't acted like a true leader to turn the tide; he lacks the determination and courage.

Perhaps, when he defeated LeBron James in 2011, he saw his 2006 self in that bewildered No. 6.

Dirk can't see anything now; all he can see is fear and confusion.

In the final possession of the third quarter, Lynch, in a mischievous move, had Eddie Jones set a screen for him.

This mischievous pick-and-roll dragged Jason Terry like a puppet in front of the New York tyrant.

The roar of the 20,000 spectators at Madison Square Garden rising to their feet almost lifted the dome. Lynch casually dribbled the basketball, baring his fangs at his opponent, who was 20 centimeters shorter than him: "Ready for your final performance, little princess?"

"Farewell, you motherfucker!" Terry tried to steal the ball, but Lynch immediately switched to a back-to-the-basket position and used his strong body to block Terry.

Then he turned and drove to the basket. Terry was about to steal the ball when Lynch raised the ball high with both hands, took two big steps from beyond the three-point line, and slammed it in for a score!
With 36 points, 10 rebounds, and 7 assists in three quarters, Lynch extended the lead to 25 points.

The Dallas Mavericks were completely buried at Madison Square Garden.

Lynch fell from the basket, and the Mavericks called another timeout.

New York's number 20 walked toward Jason Terry, who had made offensive remarks before the game, but Terry actually turned around and ran away.

"That's right, run away! Run away to your castle and hide. Tell the princes who are coming to rescue you that every one of them will die!"

Michael Pietrus whistled; having spent the first two years of his professional career in Oakland, he never imagined winning a game in the NBA would be so easy.

New York was indeed filled with the scent of victory.

The taste of victory is tinged with the blood of the enemy.

Pietrus almost fell in love with the feeling.

As Lynch walked off the court, New York fans felt he had given the top seed in the West and the number one in the MVP race a harsh lesson.

But no one knew that Lin Qi had already touched the Olympic flame in June ahead of schedule.

The wheels of time have already turned, but people are completely unaware of it.

The fourth quarter indeed turned into garbage time. After the game, a reporter found Michael Pietrus, who made his first start for the Knicks today.

"Michael, you defended Dirk Nowitzki today. You made the MVP leader look so pathetic. What do you have to say about that?"

Michael Pietrus looked completely bewildered.

"I?"

He knew, of course, that Dirk Nowitzki's poor performance wasn't solely his doing; without Lynch's offensive efforts, he wouldn't have been able to guard that guy one-on-one.

But when victory comes, all the praise will come knocking on your door.

Michael Pietrus almost fell in love with the feeling.

"My feelings? I love Lynch, I love this team, and I'm willing to do anything for the team to win."

That evening, Stephen A. Smith posted a sentence on his blog.

"Who would have thought that the French would be conquered by the Chinese at such a faster pace?"

(End of this chapter)