At that moment, in another hall, the Chicago Bulls' post-game press conference was underway.
"Michael, are you satisfied with this year's lineup?" a reporter from the New York Times asked.
"Yeah, I'm satisfied," Jordan replied with a calm smile. Even though they had just lost, he looked relaxed and confident.
"Why's that?" the reporter pressed.
"We only lost by three. If not for that turnover at the end, we could've walked away with the win," Jordan chuckled, then leaned forward slightly. "I'm satisfied because this squad is practically brand new. After a long offseason and only a couple weeks of running together, we already put up this kind of fight against the Knicks—who barely changed their lineup. That says a lot."
"Who do you think is stronger—your team or the Knicks?" another reporter chimed in.
Jordan didn't hesitate. "Us, obviously."
He leaned back, his voice casual but firm. "Our scoring is spread out. That makes it harder for the Knicks' defense to lock in. Our offense—inside and out—is way more balanced than last season. Back then, our bigs were aging, always injured. But this season? Whether it's the starters or the bench, our guys inside can defend and score. They're durable. They're healthy."
He glanced toward a nearby rookie.
"And our rookie—Tracy McGrady—he's coming into his own. He dropped 24 tonight. That's real progress. I'm happy for the kid."
It was McGrady's first time at a post-game press conference, and the praise hit him like a lightning bolt.
At practice, all he ever heard was Jordan yelling.
"Rookie, why you standing around? Get your ass on the court!"
"What are you sitting down for again?"
"Damn it, run faster! You think you're a damn tree stump?"
"High schooler, hit the weight room. No slacking!"
Day in and day out, it was nonstop shouting—never praise, never acknowledgment. The pressure from Jordan felt like a ton of bricks.
But just now, in front of all those cameras… he actually praised him.
For the first time ever, Jordan gave him props. McGrady lowered his head. His eyes turned red. He tried to blink it back, but the tears welled up anyway.
—
As Zhao Dong stepped out of his own press conference, he ran into Jordan and the Bulls crew.
His gaze fell on McGrady, who still had red eyes.
Was Jordan really tearing into him even during the presser?
Zhao Dong raised a brow, then turned to Jordan. "You know that kid's got potential. Don't push him so hard you wreck his body."
Jordan scowled. "Mind your business. We've got the best staff in the league. Have you ever seen me injured from training?"
Zhao Dong grinned. "Just sayin'. Not everyone's built like you. Don't burn through his future just for today's wins."
Phil Jackson stepped up, smiling to ease the tension. "Zhao Dong, don't worry. We're handling Tracy with care. Our training is top-tier and fully backed by science. He won't get hurt."
As Zhao Dong turned and walked away, Jordan scoffed.
"You act like you know everything."
Then he looked back at McGrady.
"Tracy, you feel tired? You having trouble recovering after games?"
McGrady stayed silent for a second, then shook his head. "I'm good, Michael. I can keep up."
Jordan gave Zhao Dong one last glare. "See that? I told you. You talk too much."
McGrady watched Zhao Dong's back disappear down the hall, his eyes complicated. He often called Billups after games, and every time, he envied how easy things were for his old friend in New York.
To be honest, he would've rather been a Knick than a Bull.
—
The next morning, the media went off.
New York Times Sports:
"Zhao Dong exploded with 50+ points in the season opener—absolutely locked in.
Meanwhile, Latrell Sprewell struggled and Ernie Grunfeld's off-season trade looks like a bust.
On the flip side, Phil Jackson's move to bring in Oakley was genius. Not only did it weaken the Knicks' interior, but it strengthened the Bulls' frontcourt.
Tracy McGrady stood out big-time, showing the makings of a future star.
Comparing the two teams, the Knicks clearly lag behind the Bulls offensively. The Knicks better make some moves before the trade window closes."
As for the Spurs-Lakers matchup, they wrote:
"Shaq dominated in the paint but got locked down by the Spurs' Twin Towers. Add to that his horrendous free throw shooting, and the Lakers took the L.
If they wanna make the Finals, they need to fix Shaq's free throws ASAP and keep their perimeter game sharp to loosen up the Spurs' bigs."
Meanwhile, media outlets across the country were singing McGrady's praises. Some even called him a future superstar.
Back in New York, the local media fired shots at Ernie Grunfeld.
"Why didn't the Knicks trade Fortson for McGrady when they had the chance?"
"They passed on a future superstar!"
During a phone interview, a New York Sports Daily reporter hit Zhao Dong with the question directly.
"Zhao Dong, reports say you supported Ernie Grunfeld's decision to keep Fortson. Do you regret not getting McGrady now?"
Zhao Dong's voice came through sharp. "Let me ask you—if we'd traded Fortson, who's gonna grab those boards for us?"
The reporter hesitated. "Uh… well…"
Zhao Dong didn't wait. "Last night, we barely held the rebounding edge. If Fortson had gone to the Bulls, it'd be déjà vu from last season all over again—Bulls killing us on the glass.
Between offense and rebounding, I'll take rebounding every time. Fortson's interior defense is something McGrady, in just his second year, can't give us.
Yeah, McGrady might become great. But we've got enough perimeter firepower. I'm not giving up our paint for that."
—
That night, Zhao Dong tried to use the two skill points he earned to boost his turnaround fadeaway jumper—but failed.
The system prompted: "Insufficient balance. Skill cannot be upgraded beyond Level 94."
Frustrated, he dumped the points into his spot-up jumper instead, raising it to Level 91.
—
The next day, the Knicks kicked off a four-game road trip: Magic, Pistons, Wizards, and the Philadelphia.
In Orlando, Zhao Dong lit it up again—another 50-point performance.
The media went crazy. Two straight 50-point games to open the season? The man was on fire.
That night, Hu Weidong started for the first time this season. He played 32 minutes, shot 6 of 14 from the field, hit one of four from deep, and knocked down all four free throws. He finished with 17 points. Solid—not great, but steady enough for a starter.
Still, Coach Don Nelson wasn't thrilled. With Ben Wallace and Fortson providing minimal scoring inside, the pressure to put up points fell heavily on the shooting guard position.
Nelson's expectations were clear: that spot needs to give him at least 20 a night.
So in the next game, he put Latrell back in the starting five.
Zhao Dong had been hoping to go 4-for-4 with 50+ games on this road trip—but then they hit Detroit, and he ran head-first into that tough-as-nails Pistons defense.
The Pistons came out looking like they were possessed by the spirit of the Bad Boys, playing a hard-nosed, physical game while controlling the pace. Neither team managed to break 80 points.
Although the Knicks managed to grind out a win, Zhao Dong only put up 38 points on 51% shooting—well below his usual standards.
Since he didn't meet the system task requirement, the upcoming game against the Wizards wasn't crucial. So he toned it down, passing the rock to Billups and Latrell, letting those two handle more of the action to help them develop.
Billups stepped up and handled all the playmaking duties, while Latrell took charge on offense. Both showed up big against the Wizards.
Billups dropped a career-high 8 assists in a Knicks jersey. He was so hyped, his smile nearly split his face.
Latrell looked like he was getting his groove back too—9 for 21 from the field, 2 of 5 from deep, and 6 of 9 from the line, finishing with 26 points.
What really got Nelson Sr. and Zhao Dong fired up wasn't the shooting percentage—it was the 9 free throw attempts. That meant Latrell was back to his old game: slashing with explosive speed and putting pressure on the rim. The Wizards' paint defenders were left scrambling.
After the game, the players hit the showers and did their usual post-game locker room breakdown. Meanwhile, Nelson and Van Gundy stepped out for a breather.
"Don, we're lacking some inside offense," Van Gundy said. "You think we should increase Danny Fortson's touches? I feel like there's some untapped offensive potential there."
Old Nelson chuckled, shaking his head. Not that he looked down on Van Gundy, but Jeff was still green on the offensive side—he'd mostly studied defense under Pat Riley.
"Fordson's job on this team is rebounding and defense, like Ben Wallace," Nelson said. "Offensive talent doesn't just mean scoring—it means being able to force the defense to adapt to you. Do you think Fordson has that?"
Van Gundy froze for a second. "Damn, Coach Riley never broke it down like that…"
Nelson continued, "Sure, Fordson can score around the rim, he's decent on second-chance points and better than Ben on mid-range, but he doesn't bend defenses. You give him more shots, you just lower the efficiency of the whole offense."
"I get it now," Van Gundy nodded seriously.
"I'm thinking of switching it up," Nelson added. "Let Fortson come off the bench or start as a pseudo-starter. That way, our second unit gets more size and rebounding.
"Let Willis play more with the starters. He's still got game, better scorer than Fortson, and he can stretch the floor a bit. At 213 cm, he's our tallest guy too. He's solid on defense and on the boards.
"As for the bench, Barkley's too banged up to bang in the post. Let Fortson handle that while Barkley roams around the perimeter. Let's see how that combo works."
---
February 14 – Arrival in Philadelphia
The Knicks boarded a flight to Philly riding a four-game win streak. With their core lineup mostly intact and firing on all cylinders, they held the top spot in both the Eastern Conference and the entire league.
But it wasn't a solo lead—the Spurs and the 76ers had also started 4–0.
"The Email Duo is cookin'—55 points a game between them, looking like a title team," one analyst said.
"The Spurs' Twin Towers are just eating teams alive out West," added another.
Media buzz surrounded those two squads.
Meanwhile, in Beijing, a bombshell dropped—Zhao Dong Sports' headquarters publicly announced a massive $2 billion investment from Zhao Dong and Lindsay.
That news traveled fast.
With Lindsay pulling strings behind the scenes, word spread through North America like wildfire.
When the Knicks arrived in Philly, the media swarmed. The team had no choice but to hold a press conference at the hotel.
"Zhao Dong, the 76ers have started 4–0, the Email duo's averaging 55 points per game, and they're only getting better. Do you still think they're not a championship-level team?" a local reporter asked, puffing with pride.
Zhao Dong smirked. "Maybe they've got title-level talent, but they don't have what it takes to beat the Knicks."
"Why's that?" the reporter fired back, clearly annoyed.
"Because I'm built to shut down the Mailman," Zhao Dong said coldly. "Offense or defense, I own him."
The room went dead silent. Even the reporter couldn't argue—it wasn't bragging, just facts.
"Zhao Dong," a New York Times reporter jumped in, "Zhao Dong Sports just announced a $2 billion capital injection from you and Miss Lindsay. Can you confirm that?"
Before Zhao Dong could reply, Fordson leaned over and whispered to Big Ben, eyes wide, "Damn, our guy's rich rich."
Ben Wallace, usually expressionless, actually nodded, his envy visible. "Two billion's no joke."
Zhao Dong simply nodded. "Yeah, the money's in."
"Miss Lindsay once said in front of Michael Jordan in London that she was gonna tear Nike apart," the reporter continued. "So, is this investment aimed at acquiring Nike?"
"Zhao Dong Sports and Nike are direct competitors," Zhao Dong said casually. "It's normal business strategy to try and acquire a rival. No need to overthink it."
"Is this gonna be a public acquisition then? Are other companies allowed to bid?" the reporter pressed.
"Of course," Zhao Dong replied. "Storm Fund is handling the Nike breakup. Legally, other companies can bid. Zhao Dong Sports is just one of many contenders."
The reporter opened his mouth for another question, but Zhao Dong cut him off.
"If you want the details, ask Zhao Dong Sports or Storm Fund directly. I don't hold any management roles in either."
A Philly sports reporter changed the subject. "Zhao Dong, Iverson's averaging 30.5 through the first four games. As someone drafted in the same class, what's your take on his play?"
"As the number one pick and a scoring guard, averaging over 30 is elite," Zhao Dong replied. "His efficiency's solid too. He deserves his flowers."
But that answer didn't sit well with everyone.
A reporter from a local paper snapped, "You say it like you're critiquing a rookie. Your tone's way too condescending. You think you're better than Allen?"
Zhao Dong blinked. "Wait, I'm not allowed to evaluate Iverson now? Didn't y'all just ask me to?"
"No no!" The first reporter quickly jumped in. "He doesn't speak for me. That wasn't a setup."
"I'm talking about your tone," the angry reporter emphasized again.
Zhao Dong gave him a look. "My tone? You think I'm condescending? Bro, I am above Iverson—at least for now. What's the issue with saying the truth?"
Zhao Dong smirked, eyes narrowed with disdain. "I talked the same way to Jordan. And I earned that right—I beat him twice. Even he wasn't as salty as you."
He leaned forward, voice sharp and cutting.
"If you've got a problem with that, tell Iverson to beat me first.
I'm telling you now, I'm defending my dynasty this season. Last year, I took all the major individual honors while Iverson was still grinding just to make the playoffs. So if you want him to stand shoulder to shoulder with me—if you want me to see him as an equal instead of someone I'm looking down on—then he better beat me when it counts. He better rack up the hard accolades.
Otherwise? You'll have to accept my tone and my attitude. You don't get to choose how I speak about him. You haven't earned that."
"…"
The reporter's face twisted in frustration, his lips tightening as his nostrils flared. He turned toward his cameraman and muttered under his breath, "Damn arrogant bastard. He's just a Chinese guy."
His partner gave him a warning look and whispered, "Don't forget who you're talking about. He's a billionaire now. His wife's a big name on Wall Street. If he hears you talking like that, he'll sic his legal team on you in a heartbeat—and just the lawyer fees alone could bankrupt you."
"…"
The reporter froze, then quickly shut his mouth.
———
After the press conference wrapped, Coach Nelson Sr. immediately gathered everyone for a tactical meeting.
Jeff Van Gundy stepped forward to give a breakdown. "Let's talk about Philly. Their offense in the first four games isn't based on the pick-and-rolls that Karl Malone thrives on. They're a completely different beast compared to the Jazz. Their game plan's straightforward—Iverson breaks down the defense and scores. Simple but deadly.
Basically, the Mailman steps out to pull defenders, and Iverson attacks the lane. Malone's still playing his physical style—those damn elbows of his are clearing paths like always."
Coach Nelson nodded. "Makes his shot easier. Creates that space."
Van Gundy continued, "Iverson's evolved too. He's not just relying on speed now. He's added better control and more directional shifts in his drives. That makes him way more dangerous. He's also hitting that pull-up jumper more consistently—his mid-range shooting over the first four games is at 43%.
Let me break it down:
Close-range shots: 35%
Mid-range: 41%
Long-range twos: 47%
Three-point shooting: 34%
Overall shooting: 46%
It's an efficient stat line."
Zhao Dong leaned back in his seat, arms folded. He didn't know Iverson's numbers from this point in his past life, but he was sure about one thing—in the area near the basket, Iverson had never cracked 30%. That part of the floor was always a war zone, where big men swatted shots like flies. That used to be Iverson's weakest area. Back then, his mid-range was maybe 30%. Now it had jumped by more than 10%. That alone showed how much Iverson had grown. His three-point shooting? 34%—definitely better than before.
Van Gundy flipped to another chart. "Let's look at their starting lineup:
Center: Theo Ratliff, age 26. Rim protector. Solid defender. About 30% of his offense comes from two-point jumpers—he hits those at 43%. Most of his scoring comes around the basket. Hits 40% near the rim. Not bad.
Power Forward: Karl Malone—no intro needed. Same style. Elbows, post-ups, mid-range shots.
Small Forward: George Lynch. Role player. Not much to say.
Shooting Guard: Allen Iverson. We just covered him.
Point Guard: Eric Snow. Second-round pick back in '95. Philly traded for him mid-last season. He's now their full-time starter. Offense? Mid. No three-point threat. But he's got solid court vision—averaging 6.5 assists in four games. He's helping Iverson stay efficient.
Their offense flows smoother now because Iverson doesn't have to do everything. Defensively, the combo of Ratliff and Malone inside is elite. They rebound well, they protect the paint, and they score.
On the perimeter, Snow does a good job as a floor general. Iverson's defense? Still a weak point, but he hustles. He gets back in transition fast and doesn't give up on plays.
Now, if Zhao Dong is at the three, I suspect they'll go for foul tactics. They'll throw role players at him, rough him up, try to kill his rhythm."
Coach Nelson took over again. "Their weak spot is the No. 2 guard. That's our mismatch window. Zhao Dong's going to get a lot of chances to attack Iverson or whoever switches onto him. We've got to make that count.
Now let's focus on our end. Defense starts in the paint. Let's work to limit their inside scoring.
On offense, Zhao Dong, you've got freedom. Inside, outside—your call. On defense, same as usual—you're guarding Malone."
He turned to the bench. "Fortson, you're coming off the bench this game."
"Ah?!" Danny Fortson's face fell like he'd just been told Santa wasn't real.
Coach Nelson chuckled. "Relax. You'll still get good minutes. You're young—you need the reps."
Fortson exhaled in relief. As long as he got minutes, he didn't care about starting. Coming off the bench might even boost his numbers.
"Kevin, you're starting," Nelson continued. "Pull out the defense, give the guards room to penetrate."
"Got it," Kevin Willis nodded.
Then Nelson looked to Zhao Dong. "Anything you want to add?"
Zhao Dong thought for a second. "Yeah. Latrell, you've got a tough assignment tomorrow. Keep your head on defense."
Van Gundy chimed in immediately, voice sharp. "Latrell, we built this team on defense. That can't slip."
"I know," Sprewell nodded seriously.
He was no slouch on defense—he'd made All-Defensive Second Team in just his second year—but sometimes he got too caught up in offense and let things slide on the other end.
Now wasn't the time for that.
Not when the dynasty was on the line.
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