1 Bonus chapter for 400 powerstones
In Los Angeles, Blake Griffin's private gym had been taken over by Lin Yi.
For Griffin, training with Lin again was a mixed bag. On the one hand, it was exhausting — everyone else was gearing up for the season, while he was still stuck fighting for rookie honors against next year's crop of freshmen.
And yet… he couldn't deny it: every time he worked out with Lin, he pushed him to the limit.
Lin even flew in his two personal chefs to keep his nutrition on point — his weight-cutting plan was serious business this summer.
"Big guy," Griffin asked one morning between drills, glancing at Lin's plate of chicken and rice, "everyone else is trying to slim down, and you're bulking up? What gives?"
Lin grinned and patted Griffin's shoulder.
"Because I'm already too fast," he joked. "Gotta slow down a little — can't leave you slow guys in the dust too much."
Griffin just stared at him, deadpan. "…Right."
He absentmindedly reached down to ruffle his dog's head — only to stop short when he remembered he'd sent the dog to a friend's place for the summer.
On day one of training, they went straight into one-on-one. Griffin was every bit The Quake Lin remembered — tight handles for a big man, raw but explosive strength. If Lin hadn't already logged a year of NBA grind, he might've been in trouble.
Griffin, for his part, was a little stunned. Weren't NBA defenders supposed to be… better than this?
Lin could see what he was thinking, so he casually walked the ball up and drilled a logo three.
"Wanna try that?" Lin called over, smirking.
Griffin just shook his head. No words.
Truthfully, one-on-one wasn't something he relied on that much. In a real game, five-on-five? Lin could use screens and mismatches to conserve energy and pick his spots — something Griffin still had to learn. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel-fire.net
He also knew that while Blake's rookie season would be hot out of the gate, it was the players who kept evolving that ended up on top.
By day two, Griffin was already feeling the difference. Lin just had more ways to score, more ways to beat you — midrange, post, perimeter. Lin even teased him about his short wingspan.
"Blake, your arms are so short, man," Lin chuckled after another bucket. "Wanna borrow half of mine?"
"…Thanks. I'm good," Griffin muttered.
On day three, more players showed up — Harden, DeRozan, and Jonny Flynn. Harden and DeRozan were stronger and more physical than they'd been as rookies. You couldn't just coast on skill in the NBA — if you couldn't handle the contact, you couldn't stay on the floor.
Lin wasn't sure if Flynn's career would follow the same injury path as he remembered, but if it did… well, he could pursue his MBA at Harvard like in his past life.
On day four, Cousins and Wall joined, along with rookie Derrick Favors from Sacramento.
Even though Wall was the No.1 pick, he didn't act like it — during breaks, he was the one fetching snacks and drinks for the group.
But once the ball was live? He locked in.
Harden, meanwhile, was paying the price for all those late LA nights — he looked gassed halfway through.
"Yo Lin, check this out," Cousins kept saying during breaks, showing off some new post move or handle. Lin would just shake his head. "Big man, stick to the basics. Don't complicate it all the time, save the three-ball for later. You'll need it eventually."
Favors, on the other hand, listened carefully and soaked up what Lin and his group said. Lin figured if Rubio ended up with the Kings next year, Favors might surprise everyone.
By now, the intensity in Griffin's gym was starting to feel like a mini Team USA camp — iron sharpening iron.
Lin could tell Wall was going to be something special. Sure, his shooting form still needed work, but his ceiling? High.
Even Favors, quietly watching from the sidelines, was impressed by the senior guys and Blake. He whispered to no one in particular: "He really is a beast."
Lin just smiled to himself. He already knew Blake was going to prove a lot of people wrong next season. Even Cousins was having a hard time stopping him. These rookies just weren't ready for his combination of strength and explosiveness.
Later, during a water break, DeRozan spoke up.
"Yo, you guys think Blake's gonna challenge Lin in the dunk contest this year?"
DeRozan shuddered a little at his question, after getting completely outshone by Lin in last year's contest.
"I dunno," Flynn chimed in. "Doesn't Blake see Lin as his lifelong rival or something? Guy's obsessed."
Lin, sitting nearby with a towel over his shoulders, just smiled and said nothing.
During training, the trash talk and showboating came naturally. Now and then, someone would pull out their signature move, just to flex a little.
Griffin, of course, couldn't resist — his bounce was ridiculous. Over and over, he threw down rim-bending dunks, hanging on the iron like he owned it.
The more he did, the louder the group got, egging him on.
"Blake! You gotta do the dunk contest, man! Take on the Lin. Someone gotta put him in his place!" Harden hollered, and even DeMar chimed in from the baseline.
Lin Yi didn't need anyone to tell him what was coming. He already knew: even without the crowd hyping him up, Griffin was going to enter the dunk contest. It was in his blood.
But Lin just grinned to himself. He wasn't about to let Blake run away with the crown. Not when he already had a playbook full of creative dunks in his head.
If anything, Griffin's challenge made it even better. Their showdown could turn into one of those all-time contests — a duel for the ages.
Lin waited for a lull in the noise, then walked up to Blake with a smile and said,
"Alright then — it's settled. Blake… even Jordan needed Wilkins to make it interesting. Otherwise, winning's just boring."
Blake lit up like it was already dunk contest night, nodding eagerly as if he couldn't wait for tomorrow.
But then a little thought gnawed at him.
Wait… did Lin just call himself Jordan? And me… Wilkins?
Blake frowned. Something didn't sit right about that. Like Lin was already assuming he'd win.
I have to correct that assumption during the contest. I am going to win. No second-place stuff.
Steph's presence was missed by all, although the group did have regular message chats with him.
He would've been drilling the threes if he weren't busy with Team USA this summer.
The rest of the group was just as locked in.
For the young guys — especially the 20010 rookies — getting to train against NBA players every day was gold. Nobody wanted to waste the chance.
The one making the biggest leap was DeMar DeRozan. He knew the situation in Toronto — with Bosh leaving for Miami, the Raptors were going to need a new go-to guy.
Lin shared his two cents in a conversation during a water break
"DeMar, don't be afraid to take more shots. Demand the ball. They're gonna tank anyway next year — better you pad your numbers than just stand there watching."
DeRozan nodded, his usual easy grin replaced by something more determined.
You could see the work paying off already — his three-pointer was coming along nicely, especially from the elbows. Outside of Lin, Steph, and Harden, DeMar's jumper was probably the cleanest in the whole group.
Then, just as they were all locked into another round of drills, Lin's phone buzzed.
He glanced down, saw the caller ID.
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