Courtyard Houses: From Bronze Compasses to Global Reach

Chapter 215: Keep Spending Money

That evening, Lin Yan contacted Alexander through telepathy, stating succinctly: "Alexander, find me a professional indoor basketball court, the best one, fully equipped, with good privacy, suitable for long-term training. Money is not an issue."

Alexander's efficiency was as high as ever. In less than two hours, he replied via telepathy: "Young Master, everything is in order. We have rented the New York Knicks' home arena—Madison Square Garden (3rd generation)—during non-game hours, from 4 PM to 7 PM every day. The venue is exclusively available for your and your coaching team's use, and all relevant management personnel and equipment support will be in place."

Madison Square Garden (1925 version), this behemoth located at the intersection of 50th Street and Eighth Avenue, was already one of New York's landmarks at the time. Although professional basketball was not as prestigious as college basketball and hockey at that time, the history of the venue and its professional facilities were undoubtedly top-notch.

The following afternoon, when Lin Yan arrived by car with Coach Marcus Holt and his assistants, Tom and Mike, Coach Holt looked at the familiar stadium entrance with disbelief on his face.

"Lin...you said you found a professional court...this...this is MSG (Madison Square Garden)?!" Holt's voice trembled. As a former NBA player, he knew this place all too well; it was where he had once fought! He never imagined that one day he would be here for private training, with a high school student and two practice partners, outside of game time.

Tom and Mike were dumbfounded; they had only ever seen this place in newspapers and on television! "My God...we're going to play ball in here?" Tom's voice trembled.

Lin Yan remained calm and simply nodded slightly: "The environment here should meet your requirements, Coach Holt. Let's go in."

Guided by waiting staff, they entered the spacious arena through a dedicated passage. Beneath the massive dome, tens of thousands of seats lay silent, save for the well-maintained hardwood floor in the center, which gleamed under the overhead lights. The Knicks' home logo was clearly visible. The air was thick with the distinctive scent of old arenas—a mixture of polishing agents, a touch of tobacco, and dust—a scent that blended history and competition.

"This...this is absolutely incredible!" Coach Holt stepped onto the familiar floor, stomped hard, and felt the solid feedback. His excitement was palpable. "Training here is completely different! Lin, you've impressed me once again!"

Tom and Mike excitedly rushed onto the court with their basketballs, eager to experience the feeling of running and dribbling on a professional court. Even though the stands were empty, they were still flushed with excitement.

Lin Yan observed all of this and said to Coach Holt, "Well then, Coach, let's begin. On this field, I hope we can improve much faster."

Coach Marcus Holt crossed his arms and watched Lin Yan, Tom, and Mike warming up. His gaze was mainly fixed on Lin Yan. This Asian boy's physical test scores at school were already impressive enough, but he always felt that there was something more hidden beneath that slender exterior.

"Alright, guys," Coach Holt blew his whistle, "same as always. After warming up, we'll go through the physical tests first. Let me see what you guys can bring out on this real NBA court."

Tom and Mike seemed a little nervous but also excited. Testing in this basketball mecca was a different experience for them.

Lin Yan took a deep breath. The feeling of forcibly suppressing his power during previous training sessions, leading to stiff and distorted movements and hindering his teamwork, had made him extremely uncomfortable. It was like dancing in heavy armor—powerful but unable to move freely. He decided to loosen his restrictions a little today, even if it was just to allow himself to play more "comfortably."

The first exercise is the bench press.

The weight was increased to an astonishing 340 pounds. Tom and Mike stared at the stack of barbell plates, swallowing hard. When it was Lin Yan's turn, he lay back in the push chair and gripped the barbell.

"rise!"

Coach Holt was ready to protect him at any moment, but Lin Yan's arm was as steady as a machine, smoothly pushing up and lowering the weight that would make most professional players grit their teeth. Once, twice... five times! Throughout the entire process, his breathing was not even noticeably disordered, and there was no sign of strain on his face, as if he was not pushing up a 300-pound iron lump, but a slightly heavier wooden stick.

Coach Holt's pen paused on the notebook. He stared intently at Lin Yan's arm, his mind racing: "This...this is absolutely not the strength a high school student should have! He definitely held back at school! And he held back most of it!"

The second item is jumping.

Run-up, push off the ground!

The next moment, Holt, Tom, and Mike all gaped in astonishment.

Lin Yan's figure seemed to defy gravity, suddenly rising at an absurd speed. He not only easily surpassed the rim, but his entire forearm even exceeded the rim's horizontal plane! He seemed to pause almost imperceptibly in the air before gently landing.

"God..." Tom murmured, "Is...is he flying?"

Mike was speechless, but he pointed forcefully at the still slightly swaying basket.

Coach Holt quickly estimated the height, his heart pounding: "That vertical jump...it's definitely over 48 inches (about 1.22 meters)! That's legendary! In school, he only 'grazed' the top of the backboard?"

The third item is speed and agility.

In the third-quarter sprint, Lin Yan shot off like an arrow, the timer stopping at 3.05 seconds.

Relay run in the restricted area, 10.1 seconds.

He was already fast at school, but now he's even faster! His starts, changes of direction, and accelerations are as smooth as a cheetah's, with a visible, crushing sense of speed.

"Monster... Monster..." Tom looked at Lin Yan's running figure and finally found his voice again.

Mike nodded vigorously, his eyes filled with proud excitement: "I knew it! Lin wasn't taking it seriously at school at all!"

Coach Holt closed his notebook, which was barely filled with notes; he no longer needed data to confirm his findings. He walked to the sidelines, looked at Lin Yan, whose breathing was even and who seemed to have just taken a stroll, and spoke with barely suppressed excitement:

"Lin...you..." He paused, organizing his thoughts, "Was the data you gave us at school just a joke?"

Lin Yan wiped away non-existent sweat and smiled somewhat sheepishly: "Sorry, Coach. I wasn't used to it before, and I tightened my muscles too much, which made me unable to play properly. Today I relaxed a bit, and it felt smoother."

"Loosen up a little?" Coach Holt almost yelled. "You call that 'a little'?! Your performance now is like going from an outstanding high school student to a future superstar! You're a completely different species!"

He patted Lin Yan's shoulder forcefully, his eyes burning as if he were looking at an uncut gold mine: "Good! Very good! That's more like it! From now on, forget about that feeling of being restrained! I want you to get used to thinking, running, and fighting in this state! Your ceiling... I can't see it at all!"

He turned to Tom and Mike, who were equally stunned: "And you two! Don't just stand there! You're lucky to witness the birth of a monster and become his first partners! Keep up with him! We have a lot more to learn!"

After confirming Lin Yan's unfathomable "monster-level" talent, Coach Marcus Holt suppressed his excitement and began his core work as a mentor—polishing the fundamentals.

"Listen, Lin!" Holt's voice echoed in the empty arena, carrying an undeniable seriousness. "Your talent is a gift from God, but your rough technique is just the tattered newspaper wrapping that gift! What we need to do now is tear off that newspaper and replace it with the finest silk! From today onward, forget your instinctive and physical tricks, let's start from scratch!"