NBA: The Dynasty Crasher

(TL: Hey guys! If I ever become inconsistent with posting two chapters per day here on Webnovel, it just means I got lazy—shahahah! 😂 I have a lot of ongoing fanfics right now, so sometimes I miss updates here. But don't worry! You can still read for free on my Patreon, where I stay consistent with two chapters per day. So if the updates here slow down, you can always catch up there.

Thanks for the support, and happy reading! 🚀🔥)

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Five minutes later, as the substitutes were about to check in, Zhao Dong stood up and said, "Listen up, I don't give a damn what y'all think. My biggest goal this season ain't to be the boss of this team—it's to take down the Bulls and Jordan. If you're with me on that, we're rolling together. If not, go ahead and fake an injury, sit your ass out, and wait for that offseason trade."

Now that he was officially one of the team's two cornerstones, he had real power. That meant responsibilities, too. If he wanted to lead, he had to take charge.

Oakley and the others felt the shift in the team's energy instantly. This was different. In the past, Ewing never talked like this. Hell, he barely communicated with his teammates at all. But Zhao Dong? The moment he stepped into that role, he put his foot down and set the tone.

Ten minutes later, the starters got ready to take the court. Zhao Dong walked in front, pushed open the locker room door, and led the squad out.

Ewing trailed at the back, his mood dark.

Up ahead, Oakley slowed down, letting the others walk ahead. When Zhao Dong and the rest got a little further away, he turned to Ewing and said, "Pat, man, you gotta see the upside here. Pressure's off. Responsibilities split. And with him here, our chances at a ring just went up. This is your best shot, man. Take it, and you could be the second of the four super centers to win a title. Ain't that the best way to lock in your legacy?"

Ewing glanced at Oakley, then gave a slow nod. His expression eased up—just a little.

At the tunnel exit, the two teams ran into each other, standing on opposite sides.

"Pat, word is you lost your spot as the alpha," Karl Malone said, his tone full of bad intentions as he shot a cold look at Zhao Dong.

Ewing's face tensed up, but before he could reply—

"Shut the hell up, Karl Malone!"

Zhao Dong stormed up, getting right in Malone's face, practically drowning him in spit as he shouted. "You tryna start something? I swear, I'll send your ass to the hospital again and end your damn career. You know I don't play."

"Bastard! Zhao Dong, you're way outta line!"

Malone's face turned red with rage. Humiliated in front of everyone, he clenched his fists, his whole body shaking.

"Karl, don't fall for that! Stay cool!" Stockton shouted.

"Calm down, Karl!"

A few Jazz players rushed in, grabbing onto Malone before things escalated.

Malone was breathing heavy, veins bulging thick from his neck. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Zhao Dong.

Zhao Dong jabbed a finger at him. "Cut the bullshit. If you wanna beat us, do it with your game, not your mouth. But if you keep pullin' that dirty shit on the court, I swear, I'll put you down for real this time."

Then he took a step back and yelled, "Let's roll!"

Oakley and the rest followed him out.

Malone stood frozen. That last threat? He could tell Zhao Dong meant every word.

"That dude's a damn psycho," Malone muttered, his bravado fading fast.

Zhao Dong led the team onto the court, stepping ahead of everyone. That spot usually belonged to Oakley, but now that he was half the boss, it was his.

"This kid's got no manners," Oakley grumbled but followed behind.

Zhao Dong glanced around the arena, then turned back to Oakley. "Charles, we're takin' over this place tonight."

"Hell yeah."

Oakley felt a rush of adrenaline. That fire? It was contagious.

The moment the Knicks stepped into the spotlight, Delta Center erupted in a deafening storm of boos. The whole damn arena was shaking.

Zhao Dong soaked it all in, walked in like he owned the place, then straight-up waved at the crowd—mocking them. The boos got even louder.

He turned to his teammates. "We're shutting these fools up with a win tonight."

"Ewing never did that."

Behind him, Oakley, the bench squad, and the rest of the team watched Zhao Dong, a strange feeling settling in.

This wasn't just a new leader. It was a whole new Knicks team. Ten minutes into Zhao Dong's reign, and his fingerprints were already all over it.

Meanwhile, on the Jazz bench—

"This is our house. That bastard's way too cocky. We gotta shut him down," Malone growled.

"Karl, don't go pullin' the same crap as last time," Stockton warned. "That dude ain't like the others—he's nuts. You get hurt again, our season's over."

"Relax, John, I got this."

Fifteen minutes later, tip-off.

Zhao Dong and Malone jumped for the ball. Zhao Dong got the touch—Knicks ball.

He drifted to the left-wing three-point line. Ewing settled in the low post. Oakley took the right-side block. Up top, John Starks waited for a chance to move.

Charles Oakley swung the ball over to Zhao Dong, then held his spot at the top of the arc, ready to set a screen.

"Oh, looks like the Knicks switched up their lineup!" Doug Collins said on NBC's live broadcast. "Zhao Dong's bringing it up—running point forward? Can he handle that role?"

"He ain't Pippen," Marv Albert chimed in, shaking his head.

Zhao Dong didn't hesitate. He started backing Russell down, using his raw power to bully his way forward.

At 6'7", 225 pounds, Russell was giving up too much weight and muscle. He couldn't stop Zhao Dong's push.

As soon as Zhao Dong got within a step of the paint, he hit a quick spin move—then exploded forward.

Russell tried to react, but before he could do anything, Zhao Dong rose up and drilled the pull-up jumper.

"Damn! Pull-up jumper?" Doug Collins sounded surprised. "That was clean! Zhao Dong's mid-range game keeps getting sharper. His driving style's kinda like Mark Jackson's or Barkley's, but instead of using his ass to back defenders down, he's straight-up overpowering them. Russell had no chance."

Marv Albert nodded. "Physically, he's a nightmare matchup. Height, wingspan, weight—dude's got every advantage. And his speed? Right up there with elite small forwards, maybe even some guards. That's straight-up scary."

"If the Knicks keep using him at the three, even without him being a playmaker, his shooting and rim pressure make him a top-tier scoring threat," Doug added.

"Plus, he's a killer cutter—he can still thrive off-ball."

"Nah, nah, nah," Marv chuckled. "He wants the rock. He wants to dominate. No way he's settling for an off-ball role."

"Fair point," Doug laughed.

The game was just getting started, but one thing was already clear—Zhao Dong wasn't just another piece on this team.

He was the damn engine.

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