The broadcast rights for the NBA Finals had returned to TNT, and during the live broadcast, the energy was electric.
Charles Barkley grinned widely as he addressed the camera.
"Since the Celtics' eight-peat in the ancient days, we haven't seen a team chase four straight championships. But now, the Knicks are on the verge. Man, this is exciting!"
Kenny Smith countered with a nod.
"Don't count out the Lakers. That OK combination—Shaq and Kobe—is no joke. They might even be stronger than the Email duo."
Barkley quickly agreed, adjusting his tie.
"Absolutely. Shaq's a wrecking ball in the paint. He's more dominant than Malone, who relies too much on the mid-range. O'Neal brings raw force and elite efficiency—something Karl never had at this level."
Smith chuckled.
"True. Even though the Mailman had the best playoff run of his career this year, if Fordson hadn't gone down, Zhao Dong would've locked him down on both ends."
-
Somewhere in a wrestling gym...
Karl Malone, now in full wrestling training under Adi's guidance, was lacing up boots. He stared at the screen, watching Barkley and Smith tear into his name again.
"These two clowns…" he muttered, fists clenched.
Adi tried to calm him down, reminding him of the big WWE debut plans. But Malone couldn't focus. The league's spotlight had moved on—and so had his relevance.
---
Backstage at Madison Square Garden – Knicks Locker Room
Reporters filled the room.
Yang Yi, from CCTV, raised his mic.
"Zhao Dong, how excited are you about possibly winning a fourth straight championship?"
Zhao grinned.
"Fourth? My minimum goal is six straight."
The locker room froze.
Even Yang Yi blinked in shock.
"Six?" he repeated.
"That's right," Zhao said. "I want a dynasty. Not just a few titles. A real, never-before-seen run."
The room buzzed. Within ten minutes, the headlines flooded sports sites worldwide:
"Zhao Dong Declares Goal: Six Straight Championships!"
---
TNT Studio – Barkley Reacts
Upon hearing the news, Barkley let out a dramatic sigh.
He stared at his hand, specifically his championship ring finger.
> "Three rings. That's what I lost to the Knicks. My whole damn hand should be full of rings!"
---
Lakers Locker Room
Shaq caught wind of the report and stood up immediately, pointing at the TV.
"He wants six?! Six?! The guy doesn't even have Fordson behind him anymore. He's delusional."
Kobe looked up from his locker.
"If we let him get six, we're done. You'll be old by then, Shaq."
Shaq turned to glare at him.
"Old?! I'm 30! I've got ten more years in me, easy."
Kobe smirked to himself.
Sure you do. At your weight, you'll be winded by 33.
---
The commentator on MSG laughed.
"Breaking news! Zhao Dong just told media—he's aiming for six consecutive titles!"
The Garden erupted.
"SIX?!?" The crowd roared in disbelief and excitement.
Up in the VIP section, Michael Jordan folded his arms, lips tight.
"Six… huh."
A deep sigh escaped him. He regretted it now—retiring during his prime. Had he stuck around, he would have been the man with six straight. No one would've touched that legacy. Not Zhao. Not anyone.
Iverson, lounging with friends at a post-season party, saw the headlines on TV and scoffed.
"Six? Don't make me laugh."
But deep inside, it hit a nerve.
He thought about extra training. He thought about the sting of losing.
And then his body said: Rest.
His mind replied: Train.
But nothing moved.
---
Knicks Locker Room – 6:45 PM
Zhao Dong leaned back in his chair, music playing through his headphones.
Suddenly—
Ding!
A system prompt appeared in his mind.
Dominant Sniper Mission Activated.
Objectives:
Deliver dominant performances in at least three Finals games
Average 50+ points in those games
Break Jordan's single-game playoff scoring record
Prevent Shaq from scoring 50+ in any of those three games
Rewards:
Hammer Anklets (for lower limb protection)
Dominance Badge Fragment #5
Zhao's heart pounded.
The hammer again?!
Last time, he earned Iron Knees from the legendary Iron Hammer. With the anklets, his injury immunity would be nearly full—especially in the lower body.
"System," he asked, "if I switch careers later and reset, will my physical enhancements remain?"
"Yes. Your physical capabilities stay."
"Can my basketball skills be used in a different sport?"
"No."
Zhao sighed.
"And the badge?"
"The Badge of Domination is an accessory. It adapts with your new sport."
He smiled.
That was good enough.
---
7:30 PM – Starting Lineups Announced
Lakers:
Shaquille O'Neal
Ben Wallace
Glen Rice
Kobe Bryant
Ron Harper
Knicks:
Zhao Dong
Willis
Rodney Rogers
Jerry Stackhouse
Manu Ginobili
---
In the Player Tunnel – Moments Before Tip-Off
The starters lined up.
Shaq, grinning wide, stepped up in front of Zhao.
"Don't even think about number six. I'm stopping you right here."
Behind him, Kobe stood still, his eyes locked and cold.
"Shaq's finally acting like a boss," he muttered, nodding slowly.
Zhao gave Shaq a mild shove.
"Get outta the way."
He glanced at Kobe.
"What are you nodding for?"
Kobe didn't flinch.
"We're stopping you. Together."
Zhao let out a mocking laugh.
"You two? We'll see if your bark matches your bite."
Kobe stepped forward.
"Just wait."
Shaq leaned in close.
"I'm going to crush you tonight, Zhao."
Zhao raised a brow.
"OK group? Please. I'll KO you before halftime."
Shaq and Kobe shouted in sync:
"No violence allowed! We're just here to play ball!"
The hallway echoed with laughter.
The visiting team's starters emerged from the tunnel to a deafening wall of sound—boos rained down like a storm.
The crowd at Madison Square Garden had come ready to defend their home court—and to defend a dynasty.
Knicks fans were relentless. They booed until their lungs burned and their faces turned red, voices raw from screaming. It wasn't just hostility—it was passion, pride, and the hope of a fourth straight title.
When Shaquille O'Neal appeared from the tunnel, a small fan near the aisle flung a handful of popcorn and shouted:
"Shaq! Zhao gonna dunk on you! Don't get in his way!"
Of course, the words were drowned in the hurricane of boos—but Shaq caught a kernel of popcorn midair, tossed it into his mouth, smiled, and jogged on.
---
Moments later, the lights dimmed—and the crowd erupted.
Cheers. Chants. Thunderous applause.
The Knicks' starting lineup was introduced one by one.
By the time Zhao Dong's name echoed across the Garden, the crowd had gone nuclear.
"Zhao Dong! Zhao Dong!"
That same little fan from earlier now yelled with equal excitement:
"Zhao! Be nice to the big shark! He's a good guy!"
But Zhao didn't hear him.
He ran through the tunnel, arms spread, slapping hands with fans on both sides, basking in the spotlight. He hit the floor like a gladiator entering his arena.
The host handed him a microphone.
Zhao turned slowly, surveying the crowd. All eyes on him.
Then he raised the mic and bellowed:
"DEFEND THE TITLE!"
The crowd responded in unison:
"DEFEND THE TITLE! DEFEND THE TITLE! DEFEND THE TITLE—!!"
The Garden shook like an earthquake.
---
Commissioner David Stern stepped onto the court with a trophy in hand.
Zhao Dong had just secured his third straight NBA MVP award.
As the gold hardware glittered under the lights, the crowd delivered a standing ovation.
Zhao took it proudly, turned toward the Lakers' bench, and held it up.
"Shaq! You got one of these?" he shouted playfully.
O'Neal scowled.
"You can borrow it. I'll let you make a copy," Zhao added with a grin.
"ROLL OUTTA HERE!" Shaq snapped, turning his back with a growl.
Laughter erupted from the Knicks bench.
Then Zhao walked over to the sidelines, where Michael Jordan sat beside legends like Magic Johnson, Kareem, Hakeem, Bird, and Knicks greats Reed, Frazier, and Ewing.
Zhao raised the trophy again.
"Not bad, huh?" he smirked.
Jordan didn't even blink.
"I've got five of those."
Zhao grinned wider.
"Three in a row."
That stung.
Larry Bird burst out laughing. He knew that pain too well—and gave Zhao a thumbs up.
Jordan's smile faded.
"Careful, kid. Talk like that and you'll have no friends."
Zhao shrugged, sauntered off, and left Jordan stewing.
---
Fifteen minutes later—Tip-Off.
Center court. Zhao Dong vs. Shaquille O'Neal.
Shaq bent low with a grin.
"Shorty, don't even bother jumping. Save that energy."
Zhao glared.
"Fatty, I'm dunking on you thirty times tonight."
BOOM!
The ref tossed the ball.
Zhao sprang upward, tapping it cleanly to Stackhouse.
"Don't even think about it!" Shaq barked, already panicked by the image of repeated posterizations.
Zhang Heli commented on the Chinese stream:
"The Lakers' starters—Shaq, Kobe, Glen Rice—are dangerous. But offensively, Harper and Wallace can be ignored. Harper's too old. The Knicks can afford to trap Kobe."
Charles
"Zhao Dong controls the ball at the top, matched up with Ben Wallace—this is the matchup we're watching closely."
Smith
"Zhao's playing point forward here. And when he initiates the offense, it opens the floor in dangerous ways."
---
On the court
Ginobili came up for a screen. Zhao used it.
In the past, Zhao rarely called for pick-and-rolls. But Ben Wallace's lateral speed and strength were elite. And under the Zhao Dong Rule, Zhao couldn't use his full physicality to drive through him. So Coach Nelson adjusted—screen first, then slash.
Kobe switched seamlessly, cutting off Zhao's path with elite footwork.
Zhao paused, rose up, and fired.
Kobe leapt—but it wasn't enough.
Even without a fadeaway, Zhao's elevation and release point were well above Kobe's outstretched hand.
But…
Clang!
The ball hit the back iron. O'Neal grabbed the rebound.
"Missed!" Zhang Heli exclaimed. "Feel's not right. That jumper looked stiff."
Zhao felt it too.
He'd missed three of his warm-up shots earlier. His jumper wasn't crisp. Time to take it inside.
---
Lakers Possession
Triangle Offense.
Shaq posted on the left block. Glen Rice floated up to the left wing, Kidd at the top, Kobe on the right, Ben Wallace near the short corner.
Kidd zipped the ball to Rice.
"Left-wing triangle set!" Barkley called out.
Inside, Willis was on Shaq—but it wasn't close. He was outmatched in age, size, and strength.
Shaq bulldozed him down into the restricted area.
Glen Rice delivered the entry pass.
Zhao, who had been battling Ben Wallace under the rim, suddenly let go and rotated toward Shaq like a missile.
He reached Shaq's side just as the ball touched his fingertips.
Double team.
But Shaq didn't flinch.
"HRAAAH!!"
He powered through both Zhao and Willis, a freight train through a wooden fence.
BOOM!
The entire rim rattled. Glass shivered.
Zhao stumbled back, nearly falling.
"Damn it…" he muttered, hearing the creak of the metal above.
This wasn't regular season Shaq.
This was Finals Shaq—an unstoppable beast, unafraid, unrelenting.
---
"One against two! And he still dunks it!" Barkley shouted.
Kenny Smith nodded, eyes wide.
"That's a monster. You can't stop that at the rim. You just pray he misses."
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