When Zhao Dong got home around noon, Lindsay had already prepped the bath for him. Dude slid into the tub, soaked up, and popped open the system.
His first matchup with the Lakers was off the bench, where he bagged Kobe's Peak jumping talent. Since then, the system hadn't given him any tasks against L.A. again.
The Lakers this season? Nasty squad. Big Diesel O'Neal holding it down in the paint, Eddie Jones and Nick Van Exel running the backcourt. Stacked all around. On paper, they're just as strong as the Knicks. Zhao Dong figured the system would toss him a mission this time.
Sure enough, task loaded in.
Superstar Sniper Mission: Go toe-to-toe with O'Neal.
Objectives:
Drop 30+ points on Shaq's head
Posterize him with a dunk
Shoot at a 70% clip
Snag 15+ boards
Walk away with the dub
Reward: Complete all of it, and you earn a Fragment of Dominance.
"Fragment of Dominance? The hell is that?" Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow.
A real superstar needs dominance, or you ain't a real threat. But what's with these 'fragments'?
"Dominance Fragments are short for Dominance Badge Fragments," the system explained. "Collect six of 'em, and you get the full badge."
"What does this badge even do?" Zhao Dong asked, still soaking.
"When double-teamed, confidence +100%. Triple-teamed? +200%. Quad-teamed? +300%. Quad + media heat? +500%. Quad + media + fans booing? Unlimited confidence boost."
"Bruh…" Zhao Dong almost choked on water.
"Yo system, you tryna turn me into Kobe 2.0 or what? That badge sounds cracked!"
"Zhao Dong, lunch is ready!" Lindsay called out from the kitchen.
"Aight, coming!"
He shut down the system quick.
During lunch, Lindsay asked, "Zhao Dong, a lotta people in the league been throwing shade at Silver Demon lately. You think that's gonna mess up the launch?"
"Quality speaks for itself," Zhao Dong said, taking a bite. "Once we set up the U.S. branch and start locking in player deals, we'll clap back hard."
Lindsay flipped the TV on. "Two of Japan's top ten commercial banks and securities firms just went under. And yesterday, 41 execs jumped from buildings. Countrywide."
Zhao Dong nodded. "Japan's always had a crazy high suicide rate. But with the Plaza Accord and now this financial mess… they ain't losing just a decade, they're losing 20, maybe 30 years of development."
"Pfft—" Lindsay burst out laughing at his savage take.
---
Next day. Madison Square Garden. Game night. Knicks vs. Lakers.
Around noon, Zhao Dong rang up Chen Jian and Huang Zhiwen, handing them two lists.
First list? NCAA and high school ballers they could snag on second-tier sneaker deals—low cash, high upside.
Second list? The big fish. Players worthy of signature shoe deals—top-tier contracts. Not many on this one. Elton Brand, a high lottery pick, was one of 'em.
Then Zhao Dong handed over another folder. "This one's Vince Carter. Give him a top-level contract. No debate."
"Top-level?" Chen Jian blinked, flipping through Carter's profile.
Zhao Dong remembered Puma signing Carter for $50M over six years. That deal made Puma's stocks jump 30%. In just one year after Carter's legendary 2000 Olympic dunk, dude cashed $30M from endorsements.
Carter's career stretched over two decades. And before Zhao Dong was reborn, dude was still trying to lace 'em up again.
But... Bruce Bowen clipped him a few times. Messed up his knees. Turned him from high-flyer to jump shooter. His marketability tanked after that.
Truth is, players that rely on athleticism have short windows to really fly.
"$50M over six years is cool. If there's competition, take it to $60M," Zhao Dong said, referencing that Puma deal.
"What?!"
Chen Jian and Huang Zhiwen both looked like they got hit with a freight train.
"Fifty to sixty mil?! That's hundreds of millions in RMB!"
Zhao Dong chuckled. "We want elite. We can't waste top-tier deals on B-list stars. Let Nike take them. For us, Carter's the guy to push the brand."
"Boss, no matter how sick he is, he ain't better than you," Chen Jian said.
"Facts," Huang Zhiwen nodded.
Zhao Dong laughed. "C'mon, I can't be the only face of the brand. That'd be boring as hell!"
His net worth was climbing fast. This season, he'd turned down every single ad deal. Ringo Wells, his agent, was ready to strangle him.
---
Evening. After walking Lindsay to her seat, Zhao Dong was headed back to the locker room when he bumped into Shaq in the hallway.
"Yo, Zhao Dong."
"Yo, Shaq."
After throwing hands with Karl Malone last time, they'd gone from strangers to chill acquaintances. Could shoot the breeze for a few if they crossed paths.
Shaq looked around real quick, then pulled Zhao Dong into a corner like they were doing a drug deal.
"Hey, yo… let me get a pair of your Silver Demon Ones…"
Cough!
Zhao Dong almost choked again.
Bruh, what did you say during your last press con? Talked mad trash about his brand!
"You rockin' Reebok! What you want mine for?" Zhao Dong squinted at him.
"Man, just to collect 'em… wear 'em at the crib," Shaq grinned.
"I'll hook you up, but in tonight's game—you gotta let me dunk on you," Zhao Dong smirked.
"Hell nah. I'll snatch your soul before that happens."
Shaq's face went cold, then flipped to a grin again. "Alright, what if I let you dunk?"
"Lame. You think I need permission to smash on you?" Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow.
"What do you want then? Gimme the Silver Demons now!" Shaq barked.
Zhao Dong laughed. "So how's my Silver Demon looking?"
"One word—clean!" Shaq gave it to him straight.
"Nope." Zhao Dong turned and bounced.
"Zhao Dong! Man, you stingy as hell!"
Shaq cursed behind him, but could only watch as Zhao Dong walked off, grinning.
Back in the locker room, the squad was gettin' changed out of their gear.
Zhao Dong cracked a grin and asked, "Aight fellas, after two games in 'em, how y'all feelin' about the Silver Demons?"
"Straight fire!"
Allan Houston gave him a big thumbs up.
"The cushioning and grip? Way better than Nike, Adidas, or Reebok. And the breathability and comfort—bro, it's next level. Boss Zhao, you 'bout to cash out, man! Take us with you, let's fly together!" John Starks hollered.
"Boss, sign us up!" the whole team joined in, hyped.
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Didn't I tell y'all to throw some of your paycheck into that fund I told you about? You'd already be stacking by now."
He added, "Look, real talk—any of y'all who don't got sneaker deals, my company's gonna hook you up soon. Y'all know what kind of contracts we talkin' about."
Most of the squad couldn't pull endorsement money and were just on free gear deals—a third-tier contract.
"Damn shame I'm locked in with Nike," Allan Houston sighed.
He had a second-tier Nike deal—basic, no signature kicks, and barely any endorsement cash. He couldn't rock the Silver Demons on-court publicly, only sneak 'em on like what Shaq was planning to do.
Same situation for Camby and Larry Johnson. They weren't allowed to lace up Silver Demons in front of the cameras.
The rest—Oakley included—were stuck in third-tier contracts. Free shoes, no check. No legal strings attached, though. They'd already worn the Silver Demons in the last two games. Nike and Adidas had reached out to their agents trying to shut it down, but they couldn't really do anything.
Thirty minutes later, both squads dropped their starting lineups.
Lakers: Shaq, Robert Horry, Rick Fox, Eddie Jones, Nick Van Exel
Knicks: Camby, Oakley, Zhao Dong, Allan Houston, Charlie Ward
CCTV wasn't airing the game tonight—they were showing Jordan's matchup instead. NBC had the nationwide broadcast in the U.S.
This season, the Knicks were second only to the Bulls in national TV games with 61—just five less than Jordan's squad. Almost all their home games were aired across the country.
"You know, Matt," Marv Albert said on NBC broadcast, "in the offseason, Jerry West wanted to trade Eddie Jones for the Heat's rookie pickup—Tracy McGrady."
"Oh yeah?" Matt Goukas replied. "Why didn't it go down?"
"Buss shut it down," Marv explained. "Coach Harris thought dumping Jones for a rookie like McGrady would kill their title hopes. But, honestly, with how stacked the Bulls are, even the Knicks are long shots. Lakers ain't really in the race. Jerry's move was more long-term thinking—it could've worked out big."
Matt chuckled. "That's debatable. Eddie Jones dropped 17.2 points, 4.1 boards, 3.4 dimes, and 2.4 steals last season. He's a two-way dog. McGrady's just a rookie—no one knows if he can even hang."
On the sideline, Jerry West—the logo himself—was shaking hands with Knicks GM Ernie Grunfeld.
"If we'd traded for Zhao last year, we might've bagged a title," West thought, clearly regretting the past.
Over on the court, Kobe was warming up.
Kid was hungry to start, but last season he only started six games—averaged 15.5 minutes and 7.6 points. And that guy on the Knicks he really didn't vibe with? Yeah, he was now a damn All-Star starter. That stung.
Still, the Lakers believed in Kobe heavy. This season he was getting over 20 minutes a night, stats looking better too. But nah, still coming off the bench.
He'd been grinding hard all summer, bulked up a bit, and now he felt like he could take on a whole squad solo.
Fifteen minutes later, starting lineups were set, and players took the floor.
As Zhao Dong walked past the Lakers bench, he couldn't help but take a shot at Kobe, who'd just sat down.
"Yo Kobe! Still comin' off the bench, huh? Ain't you the only lottery rookie still ridin' pine?"
PFFT!
A bunch of heads turned and started crackin' up—including some of Kobe's own teammates.
Kobe damn near jumped up outta his seat. Who the hell talks like that?! He shot a cold stare at Zhao Dong but didn't say nothin'. Dude had to eat it. He wasn't at Zhao's level yet.
"Haha!" Zhao Dong laughed, clearly amused.
"Yo, Zhao!"
Jerry West called out with a smile.
Zhao nodded. "Hey, Mr. West."
"You can call me Jerry," West replied.
"Aight, cool."
Zhao gave him a nod and kept it movin'.
Knicks GM Ernie Grunfeld saw the exchange and wasn't sweatin' it at all. No way Jerry was poachin' Zhao.
Knicks had deeper pockets than the Lakers. Their owner was richer and more generous. New York was a bigger stage than L.A., more influence globally, and Zhao was the face of the city now.
The Lakers could roll up with an excavator and still couldn't dig him outta New York. Only way they'd have a shot is if they sent in an army of Hollywood A-listers and runway models.
But even then—was there a woman out there more fine, classy, and filthy rich than Miss Lindsay?
Game tipped off. Shaq won the jump, Lakers went on the attack.
First play? Big Diesel went straight beast mode.
He bullied Camby into the paint like he weighed nothin', caught the rock, and then BOOM—double-handed monster jam that damn near shattered the rim.
BANG!
As the ball smashed through, Camby got leveled and collapsed under the rim.
Madison Square Garden went quiet for a second—then some fans actually clapped after O'Neal threw down that dunk.
Zhao Dong wasn't shocked. Knicks fans and New York media were like Wall Street traders—cold-blooded, emotional, unpredictable. They'll hype you up or tear you down in a heartbeat, no remorse.
Well, now he was one of those speculators too, so he knew the game.
He walked over, helped Camby up, and asked, "You good, Marcus?"
"Ugh…"
Camby took a few deep breaths and shook his head.
Zhao Dong noticed a real look of fear on Camby's face.
"Even though Camby bulked up last season, he's still only 100 kilos. Dude's a twig standing next to the Big Diesel," Matt Goukas laughed on the mic.
"If this happens a few more times, Camby might go down. He can't bang with Shaq," Marv Albert added.
Knicks ball.
Zhao Dong brought it up past halfcourt, then got the ball on the left wing, with Rick Fox guarding him.
"Oh man, Zhao Dong's calling for isolation—Fox is in trouble!" the commentator hyped up.
SQUEAK!
Zhao Dong stepped up to the three-point line, slowed down, then hit the gas. Just a simple rhythm shift, and boom—he blew right past Fox.
He didn't really like flashy crossovers or too much sauce. He could do it, but it wasn't his style.
"Bang!"
The crowd and commentary lit up as the Knicks cleared out. Oakley drifted to the right wing, way beyond the arc. Camby couldn't shoot that far, so he posted up on the low left block. Zhao Dong drove straight from the elbow, dribbling strong into the paint.
O'Neal dropped off Camby to protect the rim.
Zhao Dong hit the lane hard, took off from about two meters out—flying in like a missile.
Shaq was posted under the rim like a brick wall, hands up ready to deny everything.
He swore if Zhao Dong dared to go for a dunk, he'd yank him out the air.
But Zhao Dong had other plans. Mid-air, he twisted—rotated around Shaq, pulling off a slick 90-degree spin, then a full 360 aerial rotation, gliding to the right side of the hoop.
Shaq, a half-step too slow, was already falling back down to earth while Zhao Dong was still floating.
BANG!
Right at the end of the flight, Zhao Dong reached out and hammered it home with one hand on the right side.
That finish was a little forced—too much weight to stay up forever—but it was nasty.
"OHHHH! WHAT DID ZHAO DONG JUST DO?!"
The crowd went insane. The commentator sounded like he saw a UFO crash through the Garden:
"A full 360 spin mid-air after breaking down the D? That was art. But he ain't Jordan—he's 6'9", 250 pounds of muscle!"
Under the rim, Shaq just stared at Zhao Dong, stunned.
He could take it if it were Jordan. But this? He couldn't believe it.
"OOOOHHH!"
Finally, the nearly 20,000 fans in MSG woke up and exploded. Their roars shook the whole building.
"Unreal body control!"
Marv Albert shouted, damn near jumping out his chair.
"That play's going down in history. Big men don't do that. Not like this."
Matt Goukas added with pure hype.
"Even most shooting guards can't pull that off. Hell, this ain't even small forward stuff. That's elite 2-guard slashing. No doubt Zhao Dong wants a shot at Jordan!"
Marv was hyped now.
"And MJ's in his 30s now. He can't hold that GOAT energy forever. If Zhao Dong doesn't get that 1-on-1 showdown with him soon, he might miss the chance to take the crown himself."
Matt nodded in agreement.
On the Knicks bench, Coach Don Nelson and the staff had their jaws on the floor. No one knew Zhao Dong had that kind of core strength.
Even the Lakers' front office boss, Jerry West, looked like he'd seen a ghost. Regret hit him hard. If only he had snagged Zhao Dong last year... the Lakers wouldn't have needed to chase a franchise player for another decade.
As Zhao Dong jogged back, he pointed at Shaq and shouted:
"Yo Shaq, I'm dunkin' on you tonight, best believe that!"
"Don't even try it!"
Shaq roared back, loud as a T-Rex.
Lakers possession.
"Give me the damn ball!"
Shaq was heated. He knew that highlight would be all over SportsCenter. Hell, it might go down as one of the best plays ever. And he was the background dude—humiliating.
He needed payback. Bad.
BANG!
He caught it in the post and went beast mode, bumping Camby so hard the man flew to the ground.
BOOM!
As Shaq went up to throw down, both Oakley and Zhao Dong collapsed on him, smothering the ball before he could finish.
"Whistle!"
A sharp blow from the ref stopped everything.
Shaq's dunk didn't land. He looked ready to fight someone.
But seeing Oakley and Zhao Dong in front of him—two of the league's most feared enforcers—he chilled out. Zhao Dong already concussed Karl Malone earlier in the season. That's not a dude you just swing at.
Both Zhao Dong and Oakley raised their hands to signal the foul.
The ref pointed at Oakley and made the call.
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