"Hey, Grant, we goin' at it today. Either you take me down, or I take you down," Zhao Dong greeted.
Grant Hill wasn't used to Zhao Dong's way of talking but smiled and said, "Hey, Zhao Dong."
As both teams hit the court, the cameras once again zoomed in on Zhao Dong's Silver Demon sneakers.
In just two days, the hype around these kicks had exploded across North America. The design was fire, and it had that natural appeal that made people want a pair.
"Mr. President, I got some intel. Zhao Dong's company is headquartered in Beijing, China, and they don't have a U.S. branch yet."
At Nike headquarters, Phil Knight listened as his assistant reported.
"Also, Zhao Dong has sent over hundreds of sneakers for his teammates."
"That means Zhao Dong Sporting Goods is ready to launch. Their tech is solid. Get me a pair ASAP. And send a team to China—poach their talent, clean out their R&D department," Knight ordered immediately.
A similar conversation was happening at Adidas' headquarters in New York. CEO Robert Louis-Dreyfus had flown in just to give the same orders.
Back at Madison Square Garden, the game tipped off. Camby won the jump, and the Knicks were on the attack.
Grant Hill got the ball on the right wing, facing Zhao Dong.
Hill was 6'8", 225 pounds, and quick as hell. He moved like a guard, maybe even faster than Zhao Dong.
He didn't have a three-ball, though, which was a weak spot for a perimeter player. Zhao Dong took a step back, locking in on Hill's drive.
Hill didn't stay still—he kept moving, always keeping his momentum.
"Michael Jordan, one of the best perimeter defenders ever, got beat by Hill's first step before. Zhao Dong might be in trouble here," Matt Goukas analyzed on the NBC broadcast.
"Squeak!"
The sharp sound of sneakers cutting the hardwood rang out as Hill exploded forward, hit a nasty crossover, and blew by Zhao Dong in one move.
Zhao Dong reacted fast, but Hill's first step was insane. He was gone before Zhao Dong could cut him off.
But the moment Hill passed him, Zhao Dong whipped around and lunged for a diving steal.
His Silver Demon sneakers bit into the floor, their grip unreal. Even as his body tilted at a crazy 40-degree angle, he didn't slip. Instead, he got just the traction he needed.
That sneaker grip made the move perfect.
"Gotcha!"
As he launched himself forward, his right hand flicked at the ball.
*Smack!*
The ball popped free from Hill's control.
"Ohhh!"
The MSG crowd erupted as Zhao Dong hit the deck for a crazy defensive play.
Charlie Ward snatched up the loose ball, crediting Zhao Dong for the steal.
"Unbelievable defense!" Matt's 's voice boomed over the broadcast.
"That's some soccer goalie reflexes!" Marv shouted.
"No, that's a volleyball diving save," Goukas countered. "You see players do it to save a ball from going out, but I've never seen it used to rip a steal like that!"
"Man, Zhao Dong plays like his life's on the line," Marv added.
"Yeah, but he's gotta be careful. Plays like that put a ton of stress on the knees, ankles, and feet," Goukas warned.
On the break, the Knicks pushed the pace. Allan Houston finished it off with a smooth layup.
2-0, Knicks up.
Grant Hill, who had just gotten his pocket picked, looked stunned. He had never seen anyone pull a move like that. He kept glancing at Zhao Dong like he was some kind of basketball mutant.
"Yo, boss, how the hell did you do that?" Houston jogged back, eyes wide.
"Easy," Zhao Dong grinned. "Turn, dive, swipe."
"…Bruh," Houston blinked, completely speechless.
"You get your kicks yet?" Oakley hollered. "Man, if I tried that move in any other sneakers, I'd either slip or bust my sole clean off."
"Relax, they'll be here tomorrow," Zhao Dong chuckled.
"Bet! Can't wait to lace 'em up," Oakley and the guys hollered back.
Pistons' turn to attack. Hill brought it up past half-court, staying aggressive.
Zhao Dong backpedaled, keeping his stance wide. He knew Hill was going for another drive—dude's whole game was built on speed. This time, Zhao Dong was ready to get blown by again.
As Hill neared the arc, he shifted gears and launched into another crossover, slicing past Zhao Dong with ease.
The move was pure silk, effortless.
But this time, Hill kept his dribble tight, stepping farther away from Zhao Dong to prevent another sneaky steal.
Zhao Dong spun around and took off. His Silver Demons dug in, letting him explode forward with a faster first step.
Just as Hill cleared him, Zhao Dong stayed on his tail, only a step behind—not completely out of position.
Oakley slid up from the low post to help, forcing Hill to adjust. Grant cut to the rim, calling for the pass.
Hill dished it off immediately.
Zhao Dong switched assignments on the fly, sprinting past Oakley to challenge Grant.
Oakley was a beast on defense—his game was basically streetball brawling. Hill didn't want that smoke, so he dumped it off.
Hill caught it inside and rose up for a short jumper near the basket.
But Zhao Dong wasn't done.
*Whoosh!*
Flying in from behind, he launched into the air.
*Smack!*
He swatted the shot clean.
"OH! HUGE BLOCK BY ZHAO DONG! OAKLEY SNAGS THE BALL!"
MSG exploded as the crowd went nuts.
"That's elite timing and hustle," Marv Albert raved. "Zhao Dong got blown by, but still recovered to make the play!"
"Dude's defense is unreal," Marv added.
"Yeah, but the scary part? He's just getting started," Goukas said with a grin.
Oakley's quick pass got tipped by Hill, and the Knicks reset into a half-court set. Zhao Dong had the rock on the left wing, behind the arc, and signaled for iso. He wanted that one-on-one with Hill.
Back then, Grant Hill was known for his slashing and smooth scoring, not so much for defense. He didn't really start locking guys up until the Suns years, when he shifted to a defensive role guarding other teams' best wings.
"The last dance, huh?"
Zhao Dong cracked a smirk as he stared down Hill.
Hill thought he was about to get a mouthful of trash talk—Zhao was known for that—but nah, the dude just exploded.
Bang!
Just like that, he blew by Hill like he was standing still, bumped him off balance, and bullied his way into the midrange.
Two steps from the paint, Pistons' bigs came sliding over, and Hill tried to recover from behind. But Zhao hit the brakes hard, rose up, and splashed a smooth jumper.
"Too easy for Zhao Dong! Hill couldn't stay in front, got shifted right outta his stance," Marv Albert called out from the NBC broadcast.
"Even if Hill's quicker, Zhao's too powerful and skilled. That strength, that stop-and-pop—Hill ain't on his level," Matt Goukas added.
"He's Jordan's so-called successor, but he ain't there yet. Zhao Dong's out here exposing that gap," Marv laughed.
Zhao cooked in the first half, dropping 28 points. Then in the second, he switched gears—setting the table for his teammates and racking up dimes.
On defense? Full playoff-mode intensity. Straight clamps.
Hill couldn't breathe. This wasn't even the playoffs, but Zhao was pressing him like it was Game 7.
Even Marv Albert was shook. "Is Zhao Dong targeting Hill tonight? Maybe he's got beef with that 'Jordan's successor' nickname?"
"He probably hates anything tied to MJ," Goukas said with a chuckle.
"Facts. And let's be real—the Bulls this season? They're OP. Zhao probably knows it'll be hell trying to beat 'em again, so maybe this is just him letting off some steam," Marv added.
With Zhao suffocating Hill all night, the Pistons couldn't get it going, and they took the L.
Final stat line for Zhao Dong: 48 points, 7 blocks, 12 assists. Straight up MVP-type performance.
And just like that, he checked off his mission: take down Hill and secure that "grand prize."
Sure enough, the system chimed in. His current speed and agility stats were limiting how much of Hill's first-step he could copy. Still, he'd unlocked it—just not fully optimized yet.
Didn't matter. That was a playoff weapon. Between Hill's first step and one of Jordan's signature moves, Zhao had some aces up his sleeve.
The Knicks weren't built like the Bulls, so he had to stash some tricks until it really mattered.
After his postgame media hit, he headed back to the locker room.
"Yo, Brother Hu, how you feeling?" Zhao asked.
"More intense than preseason, for sure," Hu Weidong said, grinning.
Hu had come off the bench for 11 minutes—2 of 5 from the field, hit both his free throws, finished with 6 points. Solid.
"Coach Nelson loves guys who can play multiple spots. You can swing between guard and forward, even run the point. You can hoop on both ends. Today helped your case for more minutes," Zhao said.
"I got you." Hu nodded, fired up.
"Yo, Zhao! You heard about the Bulls game tonight? They barely beat the Spurs, 87-83," Van Gundy called out.
"Did any of the Big Three rest?" Zhao asked.
"Nope. Full squad. But the Spurs' No. 1 pick went crazy—double-double with 22 boards," Van Gundy said.
"Tim Duncan?" Zhao chuckled.
"Yeah, man. Also, Ewing got cooked. Just 11 points on 32% shooting. Duncan blocked him three times," Van Gundy added.
"He tried to bang in the post, but Duncan's help D was elite tonight," Thibodeau chimed in.
"Our interior D might struggle against them," Zhao admitted.
"When we face the Spurs, we gotta pound it in the low post," Coach Nelson added with a sly smile.
"No doubt," Zhao nodded.
He already knew Duncan and Shaq couldn't match his foot speed. Duncan could hang, but he wasn't keeping up if Zhao turned on the jets.
"And when it's Bulls time, same deal—back to the post," Nelson said, nodding.
"Say less," Zhao grinned.
December 9th was circled on his calendar. That was the first showdown with the Super Bulls.
He couldn't wait to see just how "super" they really were.
Ewing's really gettin' up there in age, and all them injuries he's racked up over the years? Yeah, it's catchin' up to him. At this point, he's not a dominant big anymore.
Kidd? Man's a floor general for sure, but he ain't built to score heavy. The Bulls still gotta lean on MJ to get buckets.
And without Pippen out there, their ability to slash and attack the rim is mad weak.
Bottom line? Compared to last season, this Bulls squad ain't really upgraded offensively—even though they swapped out Pip for a watered-down version of a super center in Ewing.
Zhao Dong wasn't buyin' into the media hype. He didn't see that big of a gap between the Knicks and Bulls, and he sure as hell didn't believe Chicago already had the chip locked up.
Next morning, Chen Jian pulled up in New York with Huang Zhiwen and an assistant in tow.
Droppin' off sneakers? Just part of the mission. The real goal? Settin' up the U.S. headquarters. All-Star Weekend was only four months away—clock's tickin'.
"I'm back, baby!" Huang Zhiwen exhaled as he stepped off the plane.
He'd dipped outta the U.S. in the past after a white exec snatched his promotion. Mad bitter, he packed up, went back to China, and started his own thing. Didn't go well. Bankruptcy.
"Let's move. Boss wants to bankrupt Nike and Adidas. We got work to do," Chen Jian said.
"C'mon, you know he's just messin' around," Huang replied, half-laughin'.
Even though he believed in the Silver Demon I's, takin' out Nike on their home turf? That's a tall order.
Adidas? That's a Euro game. Football runs the show over there. Even harder.
By noon, Zhao Dong and Lindsay linked up with Chen Jian and his team for lunch before headin' to the practice facility, boxes of sneakers in hand.
They were leavin' New York at 2 p.m. for back-to-back road games.
"The boss always pullin' up last."
"Man, the stars always take their sweet time."
The team bus was already loaded and ready. When Zhao Dong's Hummer rolled into the lot, the whole squad lit up.
He popped the trunk and hollered, "Yo! Come check what I brought for y'all!"
"Yo, kicks?"
John Starks was first to jump out the bus, eyes locked on the sneaker boxes.
Everybody else followed, hyped.
"Chill, chill! Names are on the boxes—don't be snatchin' stuff!" Zhao Dong barked.
"Yo, these are fire! I finally got a pair!" Danny Fortson damn near kissed his shoes.
"I'm rockin' these right now," Larry Johnson said, not even trying to wait.
"Alright, alright, load up! Time to roll!" Zhao Dong shouted.
"Zhao Dong, we gettin' ours too? Gotta keep these on ice for the collection!" Old Nelson said, smilin'.
"Yeah, yeah, hook us up too!" Van Gundy yelled.
"Bet. I'll hook y'all up when we get back from the road," Zhao Dong grinned.
The Knicks hit the road and picked up two more dubs. Zhao Dong dropped 30+ in one, 40+ in the other. Through the first four games? Dude was averaging 42.5 PPG, leadin' the whole league—12 points ahead of MJ, who sat at 30.2.
Stats after four games? 42.5 points, 10.5 boards, 8 dimes, 1.5 steals, 4 blocks, 2.5 turnovers, 3 fouls per.
If he wasn't so focused on droppin' buckets, he probably could've pulled a triple-double average. Two more assists a night? Easy.
But this season, with the roster they had, he had to carry the scoring load.
The New York Times ran with:
"The New York Tyrant is flexin' his scoring dominance—he's already locked up the scoring title."
Even The New York Sports Daily showed love:
"Jordan averaged 37.1 PPG in his peak season. If Zhao Dong keeps this up, he could be right there."
The LA Daily News though? They kept it salty:
"Zhao Dong takes a third of the team's shots. Not shocking he scores this much. But it's also 'cause the Super Bulls are just too strong. He knows defending the chip is a long shot, so now he's chasing personal accolades—scoring title, MVP, that kinda thing."
On the 7th, the Knicks came back to the Big Apple. The Lakers landed too—they were set to clash on the 8th.
"Shaq, you tryna get a pair of those Silver Demons?" a NY Sports Daily reporter asked during the Lakers' presser.
In those three days, the Knicks picked up back-to-back wins. But the real buzz? The Silver Demon I's.
Most of the Knicks were already rockin' 'em. One word: drip.
"O'Neal, you rockin' with the Silver Demon look?" one reporter asked.
"Yeah, they clean," Shaq nodded. "But I'm with Reebok."
Shaq had beef with Nike. They didn't want to give him his own signature shoe, so he signed with Reebok instead.
"Some players ain't messin' with the Silver Demons. That mean they low-quality?" the reporter followed up.
"I ain't worn 'em, and I won't—unless Reebok drops me. So I don't really know and I ain't got nothin' to say," Shaq shrugged with a smile.
Truth was, Reebok already tried to get him to diss the Silver Demon brand, but he shut that down quick.
"That's not my job. I'm the face, not the boss," he thought. "Let the suits handle the beef."
While that was going down, the league dropped the first MVP rankings of the season.
Both the Knicks and Bulls were undefeated at 4-0, sittin' atop the East.
But it was Zhao Dong—not MJ—at the top of the MVP ladder.
Stern wanted to slot Jordan in at number one. But Zhao Dong's stats were just too insane. And when you looked at the team rosters? MJ had the Super Bulls, and that knocked some points off his case.
Plus, Jordan already snatched last season's MVP. A lotta folks didn't even think he deserved it, so Stern knew MJ would need to go nuclear to get it again this year.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Do you want to read Advanced Chapters?
Visit this link:
Påtreon.com/Fanficlord03
Change (å) to (a)
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Check my Discord!
https://discord.gg/MntqcdpRZ9