At the post-game interview, Larry Bird was asked,
"Larry, how valuable do you think the Knicks' championship is? And how about Zhao Dong's Finals MVP?"
Bird thought for a moment, then nodded firmly.
"The Knicks took down a gauntlet of juggernauts, including the Bulls. This championship is damn valuable—no doubt about it.
Jordan dropped 69 points in Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals, and they still lost. That says it all about how strong the Knicks were.
As for Zhao Dong's FMVP? Haha!
Even though the Jazz weren't as strong as the Bulls, they were still a hell of a team with Karl Malone and John Stockton leading the charge.
Zhao Dong carried the Knicks to take down such a superstar duo.
That MVP? Priceless."
"Single-core victory?" the reporter asked.
Bird scoffed.
"You kidding? Who else was the core in the Finals? Zhao Dong did it solo."
After the on-court celebration, Zhao Dong saw Lindsay off, then made his way to the Knicks' post-game press conference.
"Zhao Dong, you just won a championship and FMVP as a rookie.
What's your long-term goal?"
A New York Times reporter fired off the first question.
Zhao Dong flashed a cocky grin.
"Long-term goal?
Simple—I wanna build a dynasty right here in New York.
In the Knicks, in Madison Square Garden, in the mecca of basketball.
I want other superstars to come and join me.
You satisfied with that answer?"
"Oh!"
The crowd gasped in surprise at his bold ambition.
"Arrogant much?"
A Salt Lake City reporter snapped.
"You think you can crush other superstars?"
Zhao Dong's eyes narrowed coldly.
"Without teamwork, teams like the Jazz will never beat me.
I'm only gonna get stronger.
And trust me—you can't stop me."
"Zhao Dong, the Bulls just announced that Jerry Krause is planning to revamp the roster.
Do you think they'll take you down next season?"
Zhao Dong smirked smugly.
"Krause's best move?
He might as well trade Pippen.
Tell me, is there any small forward in the league that can match up with me?
Nah.
And I can run the point too.
Where's he gonna find a PG who can check me?
Bring back Magic Johnson?
Hell, his best bet is to turn back time and keep me on the Bulls.
Otherwise?
He's just gonna watch me destroy his team again."
"Wait—play point guard?"
A Chicago reporter asked, surprised.
Zhao Dong grinned confidently.
"Why not?
I can run the offense as a point-forward, break through, dish, and shoot lights out.
What's the difference?"
"Damn, Harper's screwed,"
The reporter muttered nervously, imagining Ron Harper getting torched by Zhao Dong next season.
"Zhao Dong, will the Knicks make any roster upgrades?"
"No clue."
Zhao Dong shrugged.
"Not my job.
I just ball out."
"What about your personal goals?"
Zhao Dong's eyes hardened with determination.
"Personally?
I wanna surpass Michael Jordan and become the God of Basketball."
"God of Basketball?!"
The press erupted in shock.
"Isn't that a bit too bold?"
Someone scoffed.
"You've only won one chip and one FMVP.
You're still light-years away from being the God of Basketball."
Zhao Dong chuckled.
"That's why it's a long-term goal.
Give me ten years.
I'll get there."
A reporter suddenly asked,
"Zhao Dong, it's rumored you rejected offers from Nike, Adidas, and other sneaker brands.
Why?"
Zhao Dong winked playfully.
"That's a secret.
I'll tell you guys next time."
"Do you think your scoring can reach Jordan's level?"
Zhao Dong nodded confidently.
"My game is more versatile—I do a lot more than just score.
I pass, I defend, I run the show.
But next season?
You'll see me level up my scoring.
I'll close the gap with Jordan."
"Do you think the Knicks beat the Bulls in the Eastern Finals because of your lineup or because you shut down Jordan?"
Zhao Dong snorted.
"Man, that series is old news.
Why are you still asking about it?
You a Jordan fanboy or what?"
"Yeah, I am.
Even though you won the title, I still think Jordan and the Bulls are the strongest team."
Zhao Dong grinned coldly.
"Oh really?
Then how come they got eliminated?
You call that the strongest team?
Pfft.
If they were really the best, they wouldn't have lost."
The reporter shut up, embarrassed.
Zhao Dong signaled the host to move on, ignoring the flustered journalist.
The press conference lasted for an hour before finally wrapping up.
---
Back in the locker room, the Knicks were waiting for him.
The moment he stepped in, his teammates and management ambushed him with champagne, drenching him in sticky celebration spray.
Even James Dolan, the owner, wasn't spared.
Laughing, Dolan wiped his face.
But the party wasn't over—there was still one more thing: splitting the cash.
The playoff revenue had to be distributed among the players.
Since the Knicks played so many home games and had insane ticket sales, every player was about to cash out big.
Even bench players were taking home hundreds of thousands.
For Zhao Dong, the number was solid.
But for guys like Oakley, who was making only $2 million a year, this bonus was huge.
James Dolan waved over a few staffers carrying massive duffle bags.
"One for each of you.
You guys earned it."
Dolan grinned, handing a bag full of cash to Zhao Dong.
"Appreciate it!"
Zhao Dong grinned, grabbing the bag.
The players rushed forward, snatching up their bags of cash.
Grinning mischievously, Zhao Dong grabbed a few fistfuls of banknotes and threw them into the air.
"Here, have some fun!"
"Oh-ho! Me too!"
Larry Johnson laughed, doing the same.
Soon, the whole locker room was caught in a money rainstorm, bills flying everywhere.
The management and even Dolan were cracking up.
---
Meanwhile, news of the Knicks' championship and Zhao Dong's FMVP exploded nationwide.
Zhao Dong's rookie season dominance was the talk of the country, and with CCTV broadcasting his games twice a week, his fanbase was skyrocketing.
Back in Beijing, the hometown fans were going crazy.
Since Zhao Dong was a Beijing native, the entire city was lit up in celebration.
Elementary schools, middle schools, high schools—even kindergartens—hung up bright banners to celebrate his championship win.
At his family home, the place was packed with relatives, friends, neighbors, and even Liu Yumin, the director of China's basketball department, who showed up personally.
"Dongzi's mom, your son just won a championship.
He's gotta treat us to a feast, right?"
Someone joked.
Li Meizhu, grinning ear to ear, waved them off.
"Treat you? Pfft.
Nah.
How about this—I'm treating everyone here!
Young and old, we're all hitting a restaurant for lunch.
My treat!"
Zhao Zhenguo, Dong's father, shook his head with a pained look.
"This crazy woman…
That's gotta be at least two hundred people.
She's gonna empty my wallet.
The next morning, Zhao Dong slowly cracked his eyes open, his head pounding.
He was lying in a hotel bed, still feeling the after-effects of the wild celebration.
Next to him was Larry Johnson, snoring away.
"Damn..."
Zhao Dong muttered, rubbing his temples.
He didn't usually drink, but last night?
He'd gone overboard.
Still, he could hold his liquor, so he was just buzzed, not wasted.
Glancing at his watch, he saw it was already 9 AM.
The championship parade was kicking off at noon—time to move.
He nudged Larry.
"Yo, Larry!
Get your ass up, man.
Parade's about to start."
Larry groaned, rubbing his face.
"Shit… yeah, yeah."
He slowly sat up, still looking half-dead.
"I'm heading back to the hotel to change,"
Zhao Dong said, standing up.
"You better hurry too."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm on it."
Larry stretched out before sluggishly getting up.
---
The parade was the ultimate glory moment.
Thousands of Knicks fans were about to flood the streets, and Zhao Dong knew he had to show up in style—the sharpest fit, the cleanest cut.
As soon as he stepped into the hall, he ran into Ernie Grunfeld.
"Zhao Dong!
You're up?
Good timing—I was about to wake your ass,"
Grunfeld greeted with a smirk.
"You're the man of the hour—gotta look sharp.
You're the freshest dude in New York today."
Zhao Dong flashed a cocky grin.
"You know it.
I'm heading back to the hotel to change right now."
Grunfeld nodded approvingly.
"Real talk though,"
He added,
"You need to buy a crib in New York.
You can't keep crashing at the training base or hotels."
Zhao Dong shrugged casually.
"Yeah, I know.
I'll let Wells handle it during the offseason."
Grunfeld patted him on the back.
"Good call.
Oh, by the way,
I already got the hotel to arrange a car for you, so you're all set.
No need to call for one."
"Appreciate it."
Zhao Dong nodded before heading out.
---
Across North America, the media was on fire, going crazy over the Knicks' championship win and Zhao Dong's Finals MVP.
The New York Times ran a bold headline:
"The Bulls' Era is Dead.
Jordan is History.
The New York Knicks Are the New Kings."
The Washington Post questioned the dynasty shift:
"Golden Tyrant's Rise, Bulls Fall.
Can Jordan Still Dominate?"
Meanwhile, the Los Angeles Daily went for mockery:
"Zhao Dong Brags About Forcing Superstars to Join Him.
Confident?
Cocky?
Or Just Plain Crazy?"
The Utah Daily News took a shot:
"Zhao Dong Claims He'll Surpass Jordan.
Delusional After Just One Ring?"
Meanwhile, the New York Sports Daily pulled no punches:
"Jordan Lost the Bet With the God of Basketball—But Won't Apologize.
Poor Sportsmanship."
Fans were divided, and sports talk shows were eating it up.
Zhao Dong's cocky remarks were stirring up controversy, keeping the media circus spinning.
---
At that moment, Michael Jordan, chilling at a private beach house, was seething.
He was fishing by the sea, but the stacks of newspapers piling up around him were pissing him off.
"This little bastard…
Stealing my godhood?"
Jordan growled, his jaw clenched.
Crushing a newspaper in his hand, he suddenly snapped his fishing rod in half.
"If Ewing doesn't step the hell up next season,
I'll crush you myself.
No reinforcements needed.
And you can forget about a damn apology.
I'll retire before I say sorry."
---
By noon, Zhao Dong, with Lindsay on his arm, strolled into the Knicks headquarters carrying his FMVP trophy.
The wives and girlfriends of the players gushed the moment they saw Lindsay.
"Damn! Miss Lindsay's drop-dead gorgeous!"
"Zhao Dong and Lindsay?
What a power couple!"
"Man, even with all the A-list celebrities at MSG last night, none of them could hold a candle to Lindsay."
Even Patrick Ewing showed up with his wife, despite sitting out the playoffs due to injury.
He'd chosen a conservative treatment instead of surgery, knowing that at his age, surgery would kill his career.
What he didn't know?
He was already on Grunfeld's trade list.
If he had?
He probably wouldn't be smiling at the parade.
---
After a while, everyone boarded the double-decker open-roof bus and rolled out of the headquarters.
Outside, the streets were packed with countless Knicks fans, and the roar of the crowd was deafening the moment the bus appeared.
The parade route looped through the city center, passing by City Hall.
Fans lined the streets, flooding every corner.
The bus crawled slowly, barely moving through the sea of fans.
"Zhao Dong! Zhao Dong!"
"FMVP! FMVP!"
Holding his FMVP trophy in one hand, Zhao Dong clutched Lindsay's hand with the other, basking in the glory.
As the undisputed king of this championship run, he received the loudest, wildest cheers.
The look in his eyes?
Pure confidence.
He was just getting started.
Ewing stood next to him, feeling all kinds of emotions. He finally got the championship he had been dreaming of, but he missed out on the most important part—the Finals. To make it worse, the Finals MVP ended up in Zhao Dong's hands. It was a bittersweet moment—happy, yet disappointed.
Watching the crowd go wild for Zhao Dong while he only got a handful of cheers stung a bit. Seeing the trophy in Zhao Dong's hands made him feel even more dejected.
The first stop of the championship parade was Manhattan, followed by Long Island. Since Zhao Dong was a student at Stony Brook University in Long Island, his popularity there was off the charts—probably the highest in all of New York.
When the motorcade reached Long Island, the streets were packed with fans, their chants of "Zhao Dong! Zhao Dong!" echoing everywhere.
"Ah! Here he comes! Zhao Dong! Zhao Dong!"
As the bus rolled through, the crowd went nuts, waving and screaming for him.
"Damn, what a fanbase!"
Seeing white and black folks alike going crazy over a Chinese player shocked a woman in her early thirties standing in the crowd.
Next to her stood a woman with a similar appearance and a young girl around eight or nine years old. All three were quite pretty.
"Sis, isn't he famous back home too?" the younger woman asked, a bit puzzled.
"He is, but not like this. Basketball's just picking up in China—it only blew up this year," the older woman replied.
"Damn, then he's basically a sports god in the U.S., especially in New York. His influence here must be massive," the younger one said in awe.
"How does he compare to Hollywood stars?"
"If you're talking first-tier athletes, he's probably on par with A-listers. But sports are huge in the U.S., so a superstar like him might even surpass them in influence."
"He's a full-blown sports superstar now?"
"In New York? No doubt. Nationwide? Not quite yet. But come on—he just won the title in his rookie season and snagged the Finals MVP. Plus, he's got the looks and a wild personality. It's only a matter of time before he becomes a megastar."
"Sis, do you think he'll immigrate?"
"He could easily. If he wanted to, it'd be a walk in the park. He wouldn't even have to do anything—the Knicks wouldn't have to lift a finger either. The immigration office would show up at his door begging him to become a U.S. citizen. That's how big he is."
"Ugh, lucky bastard!"
The older woman sighed, thinking about how she had to marry an American and still wait in line to get her papers. Meanwhile, someone like Zhao Dong could get in without breaking a sweat. The difference was just unfair.
---
When the parade reached Stony Brook University, the place went wild. This was Zhao Dong's turf. He was practically a legend here.
At least fifty ex-girlfriends were still fuming over him, five hundred women were rumored to have flirted with him, five thousand had him on their radar, and fifty thousand jealous rivals would probably kill to take his spot.
As the only sports megastar Stony Brook had ever produced, Zhao Dong's influence was huge. The university went all out—management joined the celebration, and a massive crowd of students flooded the campus. The entire place was buzzing with excitement.
Suddenly, a group of students held up a massive banner that read:
"WE DEMAND ZHAO DONG TO STOP STEALING OUR GIRLS!"
"Man, what the hell?!" Zhao Dong barked in embarrassment.
The crowd burst into laughter.
"Haha…"
"I haven't even picked up a girl here all season! These punks are just jealous of you standing next to me," Zhao Dong grumbled to Lindsay.
"Scumbag," Lindsay muttered under her breath.
"Nah, I'm clean. Haven't been a scumbag in a minute," Zhao Dong mumbled awkwardly.
"For you, Zhao Dong!"
The students weren't done yet. They rolled up the banner and had the football quarterback launch it onto the roof of a car.
"Get lost!"
Zhao Dong snatched it down in frustration.
He recognized the hecklers—they were all athletes. Hell, some of them were the guys he had swiped girlfriends from.
Then, he spotted two familiar faces in the crowd. One was Lin Min, and the other was a Korean beauty named Park.
He never made a move on Lin Min, but Park? Yeah, she practically threw herself at him, but he passed.
Still, he wasn't in the mood to chase girls today. His situation with Lindsay was still a mess, and his head was all over the place.
---
After the celebration at Stony Brook, the parade rolled on. The party wrapped up around 5 p.m., but the Knicks had a formal celebration dinner scheduled for the evening.
It was a fancy event. The governor of New York, the mayor, state and city council members, celebrities, businessmen, and all kinds of high-profile figures showed up.
Zhao Dong quickly realized that players like him didn't really mix with the upper class. The rich and powerful folks weren't interested in NBA athletes. At most, they'd raise their glasses and nod politely in passing.
"Man, the class divide is real," he sighed inwardly.
The dinner was less about the Knicks' championship and more of a high-society social event. The conversations drifted away from basketball to politics, business, and other elite topics.
Lindsay, who also attended, was a hit with the upper class, but she hated these types of events. She bailed early.
Zhao Dong didn't feel like sticking around either. He dipped out of the dinner, ending the day's festivities.
---
With the celebration over, Zhao Dong officially wrapped up his rookie season and headed into the five-month offseason.
After dropping Lindsay off, he returned to his hotel room, showered, and flopped onto the bed. He fired up his system.
"Congratulations to the host for winning the championship and Finals MVP. The rewards are as follows:
Choose a physical attribute to break the human limit and upgrade to Level 100.
A pair of indestructible basketball shoes, along with 8,200 related patented technical materials."
"Finally!"
Zhao Dong grinned at the prompt, excitement flooding through him.
"Which attribute should I level up?"
He mulled it over, then remembered the whole issue with physical limitations.
"System, if I boost my speed or hops, will they be capped by my other attributes?"
"Yes. Your flexibility will cap your speed and vertical. You'll need top-tier flexibility to remove the limit."
"What about strength?"
"Strength is divided into three categories: upper body, lower body, and core strength. You can pick one to break the limit."
Zhao Dong pondered for a moment.
Core strength seemed like the smartest move. It was essential for guards and wings, influencing most of their offensive skills.
Moves like fadeaways, step-back jumpers, and acrobatic layups all relied heavily on core strength.
"Upgrade my core strength."
"Confirmed. Boosting core strength..."
In under five minutes, the system completed the upgrade. His core strength jumped from Level 91 to Level 100, while his overall physical strength increased from Level 88 to Level 91.
But that wasn't all—there were extra surprises. Several of his technical skills were automatically upgraded thanks to the physical enhancement.
Zhao Dong smirked, feeling more confident than ever. His rookie season was over, but his reign was just beginning.
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