No. 1 Sniper Mission: Go toe-to-toe with rookie Tim Duncan and dominate the matchup.
Just reading the challenge, Zhao Dong already knew this one's gonna be tougher than the last. When the system says "dominate," it means both ends—scoring buckets and locking dudes down.
Mission Requirements:
Drop 50+ on Duncan and hold him under 20.
Snag 15 boards while keeping him under double-digit rebounds.
Get the dub.
Mission Rewards: Every basic skill levels up. Any base skill under elite gets bumped straight to 90.
The task looked raw, but Zhao Dong couldn't help wondering if the system had it out for Duncan. Trying to send the rookie back to college, huh?
But then again, the system's name is "Dynasty Sniper"—it's built for this.
Duncan did grind in the NCAA for four years, maxed out his rookie foundation. Going for a 50 and 15 while locking him to 20 and 10? That's no walk in the park.
Still, the man's new to the league. Catch him slippin' early before he settles in, and there's a real shot.
He could only pick one mission. Robinson or Duncan?
Zhao Dong leaned toward the Admiral at first—easier triple-double.
But Duncan's challenge had better rewards. Too tempting.
---
"Zhao, lunch is ready!" Lindsay called, walking over with two steaks.
"Mmm... smells fire," Zhao Dong grinned, giving her a thumbs up.
Lindsay had real skills with Western dishes and was learning Chinese cooking from him too. Encouragement was key, or else she might dip, and he'd be stuck cheffing daily.
"Zhao, your averages are almost a triple-double. Why not push for it?" she asked.
Zhao Dong replied, "Charlie Ward and Childs are still running point. I'm not the primary playmaker, so hitting double-digit assists is tough.
Our guards ain't dropping big points either—Charlie and Chris barely get buckets. I'm lucky to hit eight or nine dimes in a game.
If I start chasing assists and cut down my shots, the team's whole efficiency takes a hit.
Right now, my FG% and offensive efficiency are top of the team—and the whole league, really.
I already pass on a lot of shots I could take.
But if I pass when I got a clean look, and my teammate's chance of making it is lower than mine... that's just bad basketball."
Lindsay nodded, "Makes sense. I was just asking."
She added, "Silver Demon been signing second-tier players, all the big names are locked in. Nike, Adidas, Reebok—they got the market on lock. If we're gonna compete, we gotta be patient and wait for our shot."
"No rush," Zhao Dong said with a smile. "Zhao Dong Sporting Goods is focused on the domestic market. That was the plan from the jump. We'll take our time building a real brand."
"Unless you take Jordan's spot," she teased.
Zhao Dong laughed, "Even if I did, that's Jordan's market. Hard to touch that. I'm Chinese, after all."
"Yeah..." she nodded again.
Just then, Zhao Dong's phone rang. It was Wells.
"Zhao, we found the penthouse you were looking for," Wells said.
"Where at?"
"Right next to the World Trade Center. Prime location."
"World Trade Center? Not bad—wait, nah!"
Zhao Dong's brain flashed. 9/11... just three years away. Ain't no way he'd risk living there. What if the future played out the same way?
"Something wrong?" Wells asked, confused.
"Hold up."
He covered the mic and turned to Lindsay. "Hey, what if I got us a big villa instead? That top-floor stuff ain't safe. Fire breaks out, we're toast."
"I'll love whatever you pick," she smiled.
"Say less. Big villa it is."
Back to the phone, Zhao Dong said, "Wells, scratch the penthouse. I want the best villa money can buy."
"What? Man... I wasted time scouting that penthouse!"
Lindsay took the phone, "Hello, Mr. Wells."
"Hi, Miss Lindsay."
"Any updates on the team?"
"It's messy. No NBA chances right now. I'm checking in with the NFL next."
"Thanks, appreciate it."
---
December 2 — Game Day.
Outside the Knicks' locker room, Zhao Dong pulled Coach Nelson aside.
"Coach, I wanna guard Tim Duncan tonight."
Nelson laughed, "Trying to give the rookie a welcome party? Sure, go ahead."
The Spurs weren't in the East, so this game didn't affect the Knicks much standings-wise.
Zhao Dong had been debating all night which mission to go for. He finally locked in on Duncan—rewards too good to pass up.
Starting Lineups:
Spurs: David Robinson, Tim Duncan, Sean Elliott, Willy DeNagro, Avery Johnson
Knicks: Marcus Camby, Zhao Dong, Charles Oakley, Allan Houston, Charlie Ward
The game was being broadcast nationwide by NBC.
Up in the booth, Marv Albert was live with Matt Goukas.
"Duncan's exactly why the Spurs tanked," Marv said. "Kid's got textbook fundamentals. Four years of college really shaped him. Steady as they come."
Goukas added, "Everyone's watching the boards tonight—Duncan vs. Zhao Dong. Who's king of the glass?"
"No contest," Marv grinned. "Zhao's the better rebounder, hands down."
Goukas nodded, "Duncan gets boards on the low blocks, wings. Zhao? He owns the entire paint."
"And from a fan perspective, Zhao's way more entertaining. Dude got the full bag—mid-range, post fades, power dunks. Duncan's game is clean but dry. That's gonna affect his All-Star votes down the line."
"But real talk, Zhao's rebounding highlight reels aren't crazy flashy," Goukas countered.
Marv laughed, "That's 'cause in the regular season, he's chillin'. You seen him throw up a board jumper lately? Nah. It's either a jam or a turnaround J. Dude hit a 360 dunk in the air just last week."
Starters were heading to the floor.
Zhao Dong stood with his crew at the tunnel. The Spurs' starters were already lined up on the other side, waiting for the showdown.
He never really liked the Spurs, especially the ones under Popovich.
Bowen, who later joined them, was out there throwing dirty plays non-stop. Popovich? Yeah, he had a big hand in all that and definitely got his cut. Worse yet, the old man even backed up those wild comments from the Rockets' GM years later.
Zhao Dong took a quick look at their starting five. They got a better point guard and a strong inside presence. On paper? Their lineup had more championship upside than the Knicks, no cap.
But based on his memory, this Spurs squad got knocked out by the Jazz 4–1 in the second round. So yeah—they got flaws.
Tim Duncan kept his eyes locked on Zhao Dong. In his eyes, Zhao Dong was the best rebounder he'd ever seen—outside of himself, maybe even better.
These past few months, he'd been studying Zhao Dong's rebounding techniques and felt like his own game had gotten a solid boost.
Still, seeing Zhao Dong quiet, Duncan didn't feel right initiating a convo.
Funny thing is, he's only a year older than Zhao Dong, but with Zhao Dong already near MJ's level in clout, a rookie like him didn't dare act casual.
"Yo, Zhao Dong." David Robinson walked up and greeted him.
"Sup, David." Zhao Dong gave him a quick nod.
When you looked at the four top centers, only Dream and Shaq won rings as the true franchise guy. The other two—like Robinson—didn't have that same legendary weight.
Just then, the visiting team rolled out.
"Zhao Dong, what's your take on this Spurs lineup?" Oakley asked.
"Once the Jazz start declining, the Spurs and Lakers are the future of the West," Zhao Dong said, flashing a slight grin.
"They that nice?" Oakley raised his brows.
"Tim Duncan can carry any team. Straight-up franchise cornerstone," Zhao Dong nodded.
Twenty minutes later, tip-off.
Camby and Duncan jumped for the ball.
This version of Duncan was still super athletic—dude was a monster at Wake Forest and earned the nickname Demon Deacons. He didn't turn into a floor-bound big until he tore his meniscus in 2000.
Spurs got first possession.
Duncan tried cutting to the rim, but Zhao Dong denied the entry pass, sliding around and locking him up. So Tim dropped into the right-side low post instead.
Now, Duncan didn't have that jacked-up muscle look, but his frame was thick—crazy strong bones. Dude could bang.
Zhao Dong felt the pressure and gave up some space to avoid foul trouble.
Then Avery Johnson tried to feed the post. With Charlie Ward right there, he floated a half-high pass.
SCREECH!
Zhao Dong exploded off the floor, shifted laterally, and jumped the passing lane.
The Silver Demon—his kicks—gripped the hardwood like glue. That grip? It gave him the base to launch with full power.
One stride. One leap. He snatched the ball one-handed.
"Oh! Zhao Dong picks it off—he's on the break!" the commentator shouted.
Duncan froze. Zhao Dong had already taken off down the court, so he scrambled to give chase.
But even a young, bouncy Duncan couldn't keep up. Zhao Dong was just built different.
Avery Johnson rushed back on D. He sprinted to the paint and hit the free throw line just in time to see Zhao Dong flying in from the wing, ball in hand. The sheer momentum made his chest tighten.
He bailed.
BOOM!
Zhao Dong rose up and slammed it home.
YEAHHHH!
The whole crowd erupted.
"That pass was way too telegraphed," Marv complained.
"Avery, stop throwing lazy passes!" Popovich barked from the sidelines, making Johnson flinch.
Spurs went back to work.
Robinson got the rock on the left block and sized up Camby.
Prime Admiral? He was built different—like Chamberlain and Shaq-level athleticism. Fastest of the elite bigs, best bounce, and a straight bucket-getter. Man had two scoring titles, one more than Shaq.
Even now, he still had more than enough to bully Camby.
Back to the basket, fake left, fake right—he shook Camby just enough to spin and go for the jumper.
Camby was a leaper with long arms, and he got up fast trying to block.
But then Robinson showed off his body control.
Mid-air collision. Camby lost his balance. Robinson? Steady as ever.
Wait, what?!
Just as the ball left his hand—SMACK!
Zhao Dong came flying from the weak side, leapt high, and snatched the ball outta the air with one hand.
BOOM!
The arena exploded again.
"OOOHHHH!!" Marv Albert couldn't hold back. "Block! Zhao Dong just erased the Admiral's jumper from the sky!"
"Duncan couldn't get there in time. He wasn't quick enough to screen Zhao Dong off," Matt Goukas broke it down on NBC. "That allowed Zhao Dong to rotate for that nasty help-side block."
"The Spurs' twin towers need more chemistry. If Robinson had swung it, Duncan was wide open," Marv analyzed.
"Use your head, David! You ever heard of passing the damn ball?!" Popovich shouted again.
Next Knicks possession, Junior Johnson locked up Charlie Ward on the fast break, so they set up half-court.
Zhao Dong didn't chill in the low post this time. He popped out to the right wing and pulled Duncan out with him.
That's the nightmare every big defender had now that Zhao Dong added a jumper.
Don't follow? He'll shoot your team out the gym.
Try to stay with him? Good luck. He's faster than most guards.
Duncan followed, but you could see the worry in his eyes.
Charlie Ward flashed a tactical signal at the top of the arc, then took a quick step-back to shake Johnson.
Right then, Zhao Dong made a hard cut to the rim, dusting Duncan with a clean backdoor.
Ward floated the ball to the rim.
Zhao Dong caught it mid-air with his right, took one stride, and exploded off the floor.
Robinson was waiting. He'd rotated from the left post, met Zhao Dong at the rim, and went up strong.
But mid-air, Zhao Dong tucked the ball, ducked under the contest, spun mid-air, and flipped it back up with his fingertips on the way down.
"Swish!"
Bucket. Nothing but net.
"Pretty!"
The commentator went wild: "Zhao Dong just shook off the number one pick, Tim Duncan, with a smooth reverse cut, then pulled up and faked the Admiral like he was guarding air. Man, Zhao Dong's treating the Spurs' Twin Towers like they're JV!"
Duncan, who'd chased him down under the rim, stood there stunned. His eyes locked on Zhao Dong, disbelief written all over his face.
Sure, Duncan could throw it down if he had to. But that stop-and-pop jumper on the move? That's some guard-level finesse. He couldn't even imagine pulling it off.
"Mr. Admiral," Zhao Dong smirked, trash talk rolling smooth off his tongue, "Welcome to Madison Square Garden. Hope you enjoy the show tonight."
"Snort!"
David Robinson grunted. Admiral? Man, if I really was an admiral, I wouldn't be out here hooping. I'd be out overseas making bank, spreading peace... and collecting fat checks.
0–4. Spurs ball.
Avery Johnson broke down the defense but bricked the mid-range jumper.
Zhao Dong knew Duncan's game like the back of his hand. The guy feasted on offensive boards. So Zhao turned and boxed him out hard, locking down the defensive rebound.
Knicks pushed it.
Their wings flew down the court. The ball ended up in Allan Houston's hands.
He pulled up on the left wing, right at the three-point line. Spurs two-guard Avery Johnson rushed him, but Houston wasn't trying to shoot. He zipped the ball away.
Zhao Dong was already ahead of all four bigs on the court. He dashed through the top of the arc, bulldozing his way into the paint.
Right then, Houston dropped a dime.
"Bang!"
The Spurs' perimeter guys didn't even dare contest him. With that full-speed sprint? They practically cleared the lane. Zhao caught it clean and exploded for a two-handed jam that shook the rim.
"Ahhhh!"
Another vicious slam. MSG went absolutely nuts, and the Knicks faithful lost their minds.
"Clamp him! Stop him! Lock his ass up! Don't let him jump! I don't care how—take him down if you have to!"
On the sideline, Popovich roared with zero chill, showing that old-school military grit he brought from the service.
The crowd went quiet just long enough for the players to hear his screaming.
Zhao Dong heard every word. He pointed straight at Pop and barked, "Coach, if that happens, your whole squad—including Robinson and Tim Duncan—better be laid out in our paint. I don't talk trash for fun. I back that up."
Pop's eyes widened like he'd just heard the wildest thing ever. A Chinese dude talking spicy... to him?
"Boooo!"
MSG exploded with boos, a tidal wave crashing across the arena.
"Snort!"
Popovich turned away, back toward the bench.
"Listen up!" Zhao Dong shouted to his teammates. "Tonight, we're putting these boys in the dirt!"
"BEAT THEM!" the crowd roared in unison.
Spurs ball.
Camby stepped up and sent Robinson's jumper into the seats.
Allan Houston snatched the loose ball.
"Get back! Get back!" Pop screamed again.
The Spurs scrambled, cutting off the fast break just in time.
Zhao Dong drifted out to the right wing. Charlie Ward brought the ball up, but Avery Johnson pressed up tight. Zhao immediately called for it.
Duncan stepped out to help, but Zhao Dong crossed between his legs like a point guard, forcing the rookie big man to backpedal in a panic.
He could've pulled up right there. Wide open jumper. Duncan wasn't stopping that.
But Zhao kept pushing.
He forced Duncan deep into the paint. To his credit, Duncan held his ground—feet steady, timing on point. That's why he was the number one pick. The guy had poise for days.
"This is cheating, man. Dude's a power forward, not a damn point guard," Matt Goukas laughed on the NBC broadcast.
"Double him! Double him!" Popovich hollered from the sideline.
Robinson and Sean Elliott came flying in to trap.
But Zhao was already two steps ahead. He got Duncan right under the rim, then faked hard—ball raised with both hands, head up like he was about to throw it down.
Duncan bit. Jumped hard. He'd been waiting for that exact move.
"Uh oh..."
Too late. He knew he was cooked.
Zhao Dong actually jumped right after. For real this time.
"Bang!"
Duncan swiped with his right hand, smacking Zhao's left arm and the ball.
But Zhao's grip was too strong—palming it with both hands like a vice.
"BOOM!"
He slammed it home with both hands, crashing into Duncan mid-air and sending him tumbling to the hardwood.
"WHAM!"
Duncan landed awkwardly, hitting the deck hard.
"YEAHHHHH!" MSG shook as the crowd lost it.
"Zhao Dong just dunked all over the No. 1 pick and knocked him straight to the floor!" Marv Albert's voice was electric. "This man's a monster! He's tearing the Spurs apart!"
"BEEEEEEP!"
Whistle.
Ref pointed at Duncan and signaled the foul. And one.
Zhao Dong stepped to the line. Splash.
0–9. Spurs get the ball in.
Pop called timeout.
"Crazy start to this one," Matt Goukas chuckled. "The Spurs might be ranked fourth in the league, ahead of the Knicks, but rankings don't mean a thing when Zhao Dong turns up like this."
"When the Knicks played the Lakers, Zhao went head-to-head with Shaq and lit him up," Marv Albert added. "Sure, Shaq wasn't going 100% on defense, but when Zhao Dong flips that switch, I don't think there's a single big in this league who can stop him in the paint."
"Size, strength, footwork, guard handles, elite speed—he's like a 6'10" point guard with a big man's body," Goukas said. "Straight up mutant."
"Duncan's gonna be a star, no doubt," Marv nodded. "But trying to stop a Finals MVP in full beast mode? That's just unrealistic."
Back on the bench, Popovich was livid.
"Where's the defense?! The help? The rotation? The screens?! What the hell are y'all doing out there? You look like statues!"
Timeout over. Spurs ball.
Avery Johnson finally shook Allan Houston and got a clean look. Splash. First bucket of the game for San Antonio.
"Alright, that's a relief," Goukas said. "At least they're on the board."
"Yeah," Marv laughed. "If this turned into a blowout, our ratings would take a hit."
Zhao Dong came down, same play as before.
First, he slipped out of the paint. Then he doubled back, shook Duncan, and cut hard to the rim.
Houston hit him with a clean pass.
Zhao caught it, and Robinson rotated over. Sean Elliott came flying in from the wing too.
"Bang!"
Zhao took one dribble forward, then spun around—using his back to shield off Elliott and drawing Robinson in.
But the next second, just as Robinson leaned in, Zhao blew past him.
Straight to the basket.
At this point, Duncan had just rotated back into the paint, and Zhao Dong came flying at him like a bat outta hell.
"BOOM!"
Zhao Dong turned into a beast on the break. He cocked it back and detonated the rim with a violent slam that shook the whole backboard. Duncan tried to contest, but it was like getting hit by a freight train. He stumbled back and hit the hardwood—again.
"YEAHHH!!"
Madison Square Garden was straight-up erupting! The back-to-back poster dunks had the whole crowd losing their minds.
"Oh my GOD! Another vicious jam! Haha! The number one pick, Tim Duncan—the guy the media's been hyping up for months—looks like a deer in headlights out here. Zhao Dong is bullying this man! Straight-up ownin' the paint and showing no mercy!"
The broadcast booth was on fire, with Marv Albert losing his voice and Matt Goukas laughing in disbelief.
Duncan got up slow, his breathing ragged. Pressure was getting to him, and you could see the weight in his eyes.
Yeah, Duncan could dunk too, no doubt—but not with this kind of power. Zhao Dong's first step was lethal, and once he got going, nobody was stopping him. Ground or air—it didn't matter.
Zhao Dong turned to head back on D, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder.
"Oh, my bad—I forgot. Rookie, welcome to the NBA. Hope you enjoy the show tonight."
Duncan swallowed, picked up the ball off the baseline, and walked it out. He didn't even glance at Zhao Dong.
"Man, no wonder they call him the Stone Buddha. Dude got ice in his veins," Zhao Dong thought.
But the truth was, Duncan's face just hid the storm brewing inside. He was rattled—real rattled.
2:11 left in the quarter. Spurs ball.
Duncan inbounded it, but Knicks guard Charlie Ward—known for his clamps—jumped the pass and stripped rookie John in the backcourt.
Zhao Dong saw the play and bolted toward the rack.
Ward hit him in stride. Zhao Dong caught it on the move at the elbow and exploded.
Duncan was trailing, but Zhao Dong had already taken flight.
"BOOM!"
One-handed tomahawk. Brutal. Another full-speed poster on Duncan, and this time the impact sent the rookie flying backward. Duncan slid across the hardwood and didn't stop until he hit a poor sideline reporter.
(TL: Poor Tim Duncan )
"COUGH! COUGH!"
Duncan lay on the floor, holding his ribs, coughing hard. He couldn't breathe.
MSG was going feral.
"This is ANIMALISTIC!"
Nearly 20,000 Knicks fans were on their feet, howling like wolves. The adrenaline in the building was insane.
"This is just savage! Zhao Dong is out here destroying a future star! Man, I hope Tim Duncan survives this madness," said Marv Albert from the sidelines.
Spurs assistant coach Mike Budenholzer leaned over to Popovich. "Greg, we can't let this continue. Zhao Dong is straight-up hunting Tim!"
Pop just clenched his jaw. One beat. Two beats. Then he answered, "No. I believe in Tim. If he can't survive this, he's not the one we need. This is his trial by fire."
Budenholzer blinked. "...Are you serious?"
Letting the rookie—your franchise cornerstone—take this kind of punishment? From the Finals MVP? From one of the league's most feared players?
But Pop didn't blink. No sub. No timeout.
Game on.
Zhao Dong, fired up for his mission—and maybe a little petty toward Popovich—went full beast mode. He torched Duncan on both ends. It was personal.
Duncan, maxed out physically, just couldn't hang.
In terms of raw scoring? Jordan might be the only dude better than Zhao Dong right now. Duncan? Not even close. He was a machine—stable, efficient—but he wasn't built to go shot-for-shot in a firefight.
And mentally, Duncan thought it was just a normal regular season game. Meanwhile, Zhao Dong came in like it was Game 7 of the Finals.
Defensively, Zhao Dong was even more intense than on offense. After getting dunked on three times, Duncan was mentally shellshocked. No matter how hard he tried to lock in, he couldn't catch his breath or rhythm.
By the final buzzer, the Knicks had blown the doors off the Spurs, 105–65.
A 40-point beatdown.
Zhao Dong played 42 minutes. He went 23-of-30 from the field, 10-of-11 at the line, and finished with a monster line:
56 points, 17 rebounds, 3 assists, 3 steals, 6 blocks, 2 turnovers, and 4 fouls.
New career-high in the regular season. His old one was 54. And he did it with style.
On the flip side, Duncan got cooked.
Zhao Dong gave him 3 steals and 5 blocks, locked him down to just 2-of-13 from the field, and limited him to:
6 points, 6 boards, 1 assist, 6 turnovers, and 3 fouls.
Roughest game of Duncan's young career.
He stood at center court after the game, dazed. It was like he couldn't believe what just happened.
Zhao Dong walked past the Spurs' bench and caught a hard glare from Popovich. He smirked.
"You know what I hate most? A team that's got talent but plays like trash on purpose. Every time I see it, I snap. Next time we see y'all? I'm dropping another 50."
Pop's jaw tightened. But what could he do?
---
Post-game, locker room interview.
Knicks reporter Thomas grinned. "Zhao Dong, you haven't gone this crazy in a game all season. What got into you tonight?"
Zhao Dong leaned back, smirked.
"I'm the first undrafted dude to win Finals MVP. First to win a ring as a rookie, too. That's right, huh?"
"Yeah, you're the GOAT when it comes to undrafted stories," Thomas laughed.
"Yeah, cool title, huh? But real talk—I hate that label. So when I see dudes with that golden ticket, No. 1 picks or whatever, I just wanna test what they're made of."
"PFFT!"
Reporters couldn't help but laugh.
"What's your take on Tim Duncan?" one of them asked.
Zhao Dong nodded, serious now.
"I ain't clownin' him. The dude's a star, for real. He just had a bad game. He's a rookie. I'm looking forward to seeing him grow. He's gonna own this league one day."
Coming from someone a year younger than Duncan, that meant something.
"Do you think the Spurs have a shot at the title this year?"
"Not yet. They gotta get better shooters on the outside. That spacing ain't there."
"What about the Knicks?"
"We the strongest Knicks team ever."
"Stronger than last year? Stronger than your first two rings?"
Zhao Dong didn't hesitate.
"No doubt."
He walked off, interview over.
He wasn't capping either. With rebounding machines like Danny Fortson and a young Ben Wallace growing fast, plus Camby in the mix, this Knicks team was dangerous. Zhao Dong wouldn't even need to dominate the paint for them to win down the road.
He could run the point from the perimeter, handle the rock, and set the offense in motion. Old man Nelson's playbook would finally click with someone like him, and the squad would definitely level up.
But now? He's stuck in the low post. Without him running the break, a lot of transition plays just die out.
On the walk back to the locker room, Zhao Dong caught up with Oakley and Big Ben.
"Yo Ben, how many minutes you getting now?" he asked casually.
"Boss, 'bout seven a night," Big Ben mumbled.
"Man, that's light."
Zhao Dong eyed him up. A month into lifting, and Big Ben was noticeably bulkier since joining the team.
"Keep hittin' them weights. And let Charles sharpen your D. I want you anchoring our defense down low—nothin' gets past you in the paint," he said.
"Yes sir, Boss!" Big Ben lit up.
"Old Nelson got Ben runnin' the 3 or 4 spots," Oakley chimed in. "But it's not really his thing."
"Just give it time," Zhao Dong nodded. "Coach'll adjust. Ben's struggling out there on the wing, but he's coachable."
Back in the locker room, Zhao Dong fired up his system mid-shower.
[SYSTEM] Congrats, mission complete. Sniper Challenge: SUCCESS.
- Ball Handling: 96
- Shooting: 96
- Passing: 90
"Damn, Duncan's fundamentals are next level," Zhao Dong muttered.
His passing and catching just jumped from 86 to 90—more dimes incoming.
Meanwhile, over in the Spurs' locker room, Duncan, sore all over, needed help just to peel off his jersey.
"My right ankle's sprained, left knee's tight, wrist hurts, shoulder's sore, back's stiff... and lower back too," he listed to the team doc and the trainer. Way worse than just bruises. Most of it came from getting slammed on the floor.
Dude got dropped by Zhao Dong seven times in just one game. And that was with Zhao letting off late in the game. If he went full throttle, Duncan might not be walking right now.
"Get him in the ice bucket—cut that swelling down," the trainer said.
"Zhao Dong's playin' like it's the Finals against a damn rookie! That dude's insane!" Popovich barked, seeing Duncan's body covered in bruises.
At the post-game presser, the media crowd wasn't even that big. Pop let loose: "Targeting a rookie like that? It's disgraceful. He's tryin' to ruin the future of the league!"
A New York Sports Daily reporter shot back, "You think your rookie is the future of the league? Compared to Zhao Dong? You serious right now? The whole league supposed to orbit around Duncan?"
Pop grunted and looked away.
Then a New York Times reporter added, "Coach, you tanked a whole season just to get the No. 1 pick. And still, our undrafted guy's cooking your prize rookie."
"Gentlemen, let's keep the questions in order," the host tried to reel things in.
"Forget this," one New York reporter said. "Let's go talk to the real future of the league—Zhao Dong."
They bounced, and what was already a weak turnout became almost empty. Only about a dozen reporters were left, mostly nobodies and a couple from San Antonio.
Spurs management? Fuming. But what could they do? Small market team, no media clout. The New York press didn't even give a damn about their own Knicks—why would they care about San Antonio? The next day, Spurs might not even make the headlines.
Duncan sat there, disappointed. So this was what the spotlight looked like in the biggest city in the world? Barely a flicker.
He started thinking—maybe it'd be better if he'd gone second to Philly like Van Horn.
Meanwhile, back in the Knicks' massive press hall? Packed to the rafters. Media from across the globe. Flashes poppin' like fireworks. Hundreds of people. All eyes on Zhao Dong.
"Zhao, people say Miss Lindsay been buying teams for you. Some folks claim you a gigolo. Any truth to that?" one reporter asked.
Zhao Dong almost jumped outta his seat. "Man, I'm giving Miss Lindsay gifts too! Don't get it twisted!"
Another reporter chimed in, "Word is Zhao Dong Sporting Goods was a gift from her too. That true?"
"Tell me where that info came from," Zhao Dong snapped. "I'll hire 100 lawyers and sue that dude into the ground."
Far away in Chicago, Jordan suddenly sneezed. "Achoo! Achoo!"
"Someone talkin' bout me again?" he muttered, rubbing his nose.
Back in the room, Zhao Dong was heatin' up. Cameras clicked like crazy.
Then another reporter asked, "So what's your background back in China?"
Zhao Dong leaned back, smirked: "Man, my Zhao family ran the whole country a thousand years ago. We were emperors—dynasty lasted 319 years. Had 18 emperors. You know how we calculated wealth? GDP. Yeah, GDP. My fam's GDP back then? 80% of the world. That's right—the world. All the cash? Ours. Still wonderin' how I got money? Still think I need to sponge off someone?"
The room exploded.
"Yo!"
"No way!"
"Royal blood!"
Cameras went off like crazy.
Yang Yi, a reporter from Beijing Youth Daily, doubled over laughing in the corner. Dude just joined the paper this year, around Zhao Dong's age. Covered Yao Ming at the National Games, now he was in the States covering Zhao, Yao, and Hu Weidong.
"Foolin' everybody," Yang Yi chuckled.
Zhao Dong looked down at the sea of reporters, trying not to crack up. But deep inside, he was dying from holding back his laughter.
Next day, headlines all over the world blew up about Zhao Dong's "royal bloodline."
Every Chinese person who saw it was like, Wait, what?
"Zhao, were your ancestors really emperors?" Lindsay asked, wide-eyed.
"Oh yeah," Zhao Dong grinned. "Zhao family royalty. We even got the family tree to prove it."
"That's so amazing!" she gasped.
Zhao Dong, bored with nothing to do, kept messin' with her. "Let me tell you something. In China, if you trace your roots, nine outta ten people gonna find a noble ancestor somewhere. Your mom's last name is Liu, right? That's one of the biggest surnames in China—over 100 million people. Back in the day, the Liu family ran the Han Dynasty—29 emperors, ruled for over 400 years. You know why we call ourselves Han people? Because of your Liu family."
"…Han Dynasty? My Liu family? Then I… I wanna be Chinese too!" Lindsay stammered.
"Oh, just wait. One day we'll donate a few hundred mil to China, and boom—citizenship for you," Zhao Dong smiled.
Lindsay blinked. "Wait, Chinese citizenship is that valuable?"
It's over. I bamboozled her, Zhao Dong laughed inside.
SMACK!
Lindsay smacked him and snapped, "Didn't you say last time the government suppresses nobles? I'm gonna leak your royal status to the press, liar!"
"HAHAHA!"
Zhao Dong burst out laughing again as they playfully bickered, like always.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Do you want to read Advanced Chapters?
Visit this link:
Påtreon.com/Fanficlord03
Change (å) to (a)
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Check my Discord!
https://discord.gg/MntqcdpRZ9