NBA: The Dynasty Crusher (Basketball)

The Knicks hit the court in Dallas on the second night of a back-to-back—and it showed. Legs were heavy, shots weren't falling, and despite Zhao Dong's presence, the team couldn't find its rhythm. They dropped their fourth loss of the season to a surging Mavericks squad.

Houston and Francis lit it up for the Mavs, combining for 61 points and absolutely torching New York's perimeter defense.

Zhao Dong didn't force the issue. His focus had always been on the statement games—against title contenders like the Spurs and Lakers. The Mavericks? Just a bump on the regular-season road.

---

Arrival in L.A.

On the 27th, the Knicks touched down in Los Angeles. The Lakers loomed next.

As the Knicks landed, local media caught up with Shaquille O'Neal outside his house.

"Shaq, how confident are you guys against the Knicks tomorrow night?"

"Hundred percent," he said with zero hesitation.

Meanwhile, the Knicks' arrival at their hotel was met with flashing cameras and fired-up reporters.

"Zhao Dong, Shaq just said he's one hundred percent confident they'll beat the Knicks. Any response?"

Zhao raised an eyebrow. "His confidence must come from his tonnage."

The media burst out laughing.

---

Lunch with Big Ben

After checking in, Ben Wallace called Zhao and invited him to lunch.

"How's life in L.A. treating you?" Zhao asked.

"Good," Big Ben replied, clearly content.

"That's great," Zhao nodded, smiling as he pocketed a check—two million dollars for investment. It was all Ben could afford to spare. He'd missed out on the recent market surge, but this time, Zhao was giving him full freedom to invest as much as he could.

Later that afternoon, Zhao was about to call home when Lindsay beat him to it. Their conversation lasted so long, it drained two phones and four backup batteries.

(TL: WTF)

---

Game Day: December 28 – Staples Center

The Knicks rolled into Staples Center for the showdown. The buzz was electric.

---

O'Neal, lurking near the locker room tunnel, turned to a security guard.

"They here yet?"

"Yeah, bus just pulled into Lot One."

O'Neal grinned and ducked into a shadowy corner by the exit.

A few minutes later, the Knicks started making their way inside. Head Coach Don Nelson walked right past O'Neal in the dimly lit hallway without noticing him.

"Shaq, what are you doing hiding there?" Zhao asked with a smirk, spotting him.

"I came up from the parking lot and saw you guys. I stayed to say hi, and your coach just walked past me like I was invisible! Mr. Nelson, that was cold!"

Nelson turned around, confused. "Does this have anything to do with me?"

"You ignored me!" O'Neal pouted.

The Knicks just laughed.

Zhao clapped his shoulder. "Alright, joke's over. See you on the court."

As the team moved along, Zhao called out, "Come on, let's go. Don't mind this oversized clown."

"You ignored me and called me a fool! Zhao, we're enemies now. I'm gonna destroy your rim tonight!" O'Neal yelled behind them.

"Good, I've been meaning to take care of you anyway," Zhao replied without even turning around.

O'Neal froze for a second. Damn... is he serious? He wrecked our baskets last time. Is he gonna do it again?

Back in the Lakers' locker room, Shaq stormed in like a man on a mission.

"Yo, you guys know what just happened?"

Kobe looked up. "What happened now, big fella?"

"I waited in the tunnel to say hi, and they ignored me. Then Zhao called me an idiot. We've got beef. What should we do about it?"

Everyone exchanged glances.

"Well… I mean… you are kind of an idiot," one teammate muttered.

"You want him dunking so hard he cracks three more backboards tonight?" another added.

---

After tossing their bags into the visiting locker room, Zhao and his teammates decided to check out the Lakers' brand-new digs. Staples Center was a huge upgrade compared to the aging Madison Square Garden, and Zhao was curious.

With a dozen teammates and just as many bodyguards, Zhao walked down the hallway—right into enemy territory.

Outside the home locker room, Phil Jackson and Lakers GM Jerry West were mid-conversation. They froze.

"Hey, Jerry. Phil," Zhao greeted them casually.

"Uh, Zhao Dong. What's up?" West blinked.

"We just wanna check out the new place. That okay?"

"Sure, sure…" West quickly opened the locker room door and called out, "Heads up, everyone. Zhao Dong and the Knicks are here!"

"What the hell is he doing here?!" Shaq jumped to his feet.

Zhao strolled in like he owned the building.

"Just taking a look around. Any problem with that?"

He locked eyes with O'Neal.

"You're our enemy, right? Want to settle it now?"

"No way! Basketball problems stay on the court!" Shaq retorted immediately.

Zhao smirked as he looked around. The Knicks players peered over his shoulder, curious and relaxed.

"Boss?" Ben leaned in.

"It's fine. Just sightseeing," Zhao said.

"Zhao, Shaq was just joking earlier. Don't take it seriously," Phil Jackson offered.

"I know. The Shark's just a clown. I don't take clowns seriously."

"You actually called me a clown?" Shaq yelled. "That's it. I'm dropping 50 on you tonight!"

Zhao burst out laughing. "Your career high's 53. You really think you can do that on me?"

"Of course," O'Neal said with fire in his eyes.

"How about we make a bet?" Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not Jordan—I don't gamble," Shaq snapped quickly.

Zhao smirked. He suddenly remembered that infamous Barkley vs. Kenny Smith wager and couldn't resist. "Alright then... if you don't drop 50-plus on me tonight, you kiss…"

His eyes scanned the room and landed on Big Ben.

"…Ben's butt."

"What?!" Ben Wallace jumped to his feet, guarding his rear like it was game point. "Hell no!"

The room went silent for half a second.

"…What kind of sick bet is that?" Shaq looked like he just bit into a lemon.

"If you do score 50?" he asked reluctantly.

"I'll kiss it too," Zhao Dong replied, cringing.

Ben threw his hands in the air. "Yo, can y'all stop betting with my butt?! I just washed it two days ago—I don't wanna do it again."

Laughter exploded throughout the room. Even Phil Jackson and Jerry West had to turn away to hide their grins.

"Man, what kind of locker room is this?" someone chuckled.

O'Neal looked at Big Ben, then at the aforementioned butt, now strategically positioned behind a metal bench.

His stomach turned.

Truth be told, dropping 50 on Zhao Dong was no small task. In seven seasons, he'd only done it twice. And that was against soft teams, not this two-way beast.

"No bet?" Zhao teased.

Shaq hesitated, sweating mentally. "Let's... change the bet."

He looked around the room, eyes darting for an alternative.

Suddenly, chaos erupted.

Guys dove behind lockers, into bathrooms—anywhere out of Shaq's line of sight. Even Phil Jackson was gone.

"There's no butts left! It's not that I don't want to bet!" Shaq declared dramatically.

Zhao shrugged. "Fine, we'll call it off. Honestly, that was gross anyway. Props to Barkley and Kenny—I'm not built like that."

---

Starting Lineups Announced – Staples Center, 8:00 PM

The arena buzzed with anticipation. The lineups dropped:

New York Knicks:

PF: Zhao Dong

C: Danny Fortson

SF: Latrell "Madman" Sprewell

SG: Jerry Stackhouse

PG: Manu Ginóbili

Los Angeles Lakers:

C: Shaquille O'Neal

PF: Ben Wallace

SF: Glen Rice

SG: Kobe Bryant

PG: Ron Harper

NBC's primetime broadcast lit up screens nationwide.

Marv Albert: "Welcome to a jam-packed Staples Center! It's the Knicks and the Lakers—Zhao Dong versus Shaquille O'Neal—East vs. West! I'm Marv Albert, alongside Doug Collins."

Doug Collins: "This one has playoff intensity written all over it, Marv."

Pre-game Analysis – Bill Walton & Matt Goukas

Bill Walton: "Inside matchup? I'd call it even. Fortson's got better offense than Ben Wallace, but Shaq dominates the post in ways Zhao Dong doesn't. Call it a draw."

Matt Goukas: "On the wing, Glen Rice has regressed—down to 15.9 PPG from his career-high 26.8. Kobe's rise has eaten into his rhythm."

Bill: "True, and while Rice may be more polished than rookie Ginóbili, he doesn't hold much of an edge over Sprewell or Stackhouse."

Matt: "Ron Harper's another concern. Great veteran presence, but he's 36, and those knees are barking. Can he keep up with the Knicks' pace?"

Bill: "And Kobe Bryant, of course, is a rising superstar. He's putting up 25 a night—strong on both ends. He has the edge on Ginóbili and can compete with Stackhouse and Madman."

Matt: "So, you're saying the teams are evenly matched?"

Bill: "Yes. Both starting lineups are maxed out salary-wise. Their benches are shallow. Tonight's game will be all about the starters. Buckle up."

8:30 PM sharp. Staples was roaring.

O'Neal saw Fortson walk up for the jump.

"Zhao Dong! I'm not jumping with a role player. Get up here! Or I'll let Ben do it!"

Zhao shrugged. "Sure. I'll do it."

"…You serious?" Shaq blinked.

Zhao didn't move.

Annoyed, Shaq backed off. "Ben, go get it."

Kobe muttered under his breath, "Great. Now we just gave up the first possession, you giant child."

Sure enough, Fortson outleaped Ben Wallace, tipping the ball back. Knicks ball.

Zhao moved swiftly to the left wing—about two steps beyond the paint, sitting just beneath the dotted line. He was carefully outside the shaded zone to avoid violating Article 136 of the so-called "Zhao Dong Rule."

The Lakers didn't send O'Neal to guard him. Instead, they switched and let Big Ben handle the matchup.

That's the benefit of signing Wallace. He covered for Shaq's lack of mobility outside the paint. If Shaq had followed Zhao out, the paint would've been wide open—a repeat of what happened against the Spurs' Twin Towers.

Big Ben's footwork wasn't bad. He wasn't the tallest forward out there—just a few centimeters shorter than Zhao Dong—but he made up for it with quick lateral movement and a strong sense of timing. Still, he couldn't match Zhao's explosive first step.

The moment he got close, Ben locked down Zhao's left arm, trying to deny him freedom of motion.

Ben Wallace was a beast in the weight room. His upper-body strength exceeded 200 kilograms on the bench—tops in the league. Even Karl Malone couldn't quite match him anymore. Zhao Dong felt the squeeze and struggled to break loose on the spot.

Ben knew his only chance was to delay Zhao Dong's burst off the dribble. If he could stall that first step, he had a shot at staying in front.

He also had the advantage of familiarity. After countless battles in team scrimmages, Big Ben knew Zhao Dong's habits better than anyone.

But Zhao Dong was still Zhao Dong.

After two strong shoulder shakes, he shrugged off the grip, stepped out with a quick hesitation, and broke free with a sharp back-cut. The ball was delivered on point, and Zhao Dong caught it clean in rhythm.

Ben recovered fast—but not fast enough.

Zhao took one hard dribble with his left, penetrating toward the left elbow. O'Neal held position in the paint, but Glen Rice rotated over, springing the double-team trap.

"Squeak!"

Zhao slammed the brakes.

He pulled the ball back, stepped behind the free-throw line, and rose up instantly.

Ben Wallace lunged in desperation.

Too late.

Zhao's movement was so fluid, so precise, that by the time Ben left the floor, the shot was already midair.

Swish!

Net. Pure. The Knicks were on the board.

Zhao backpedaled and smirked, chirping, "Hey Ben, still think you can guard me? Hope you brought tissues."

Ben rolled his eyes. Just don't bet on my butt again, boss...

---

On the other end, the Lakers pounded the ball inside.

Shaq stormed into the paint like a freight train. He was listed at 145 kilograms at the start of the season, but from the way the floorboards groaned, he may've packed on a few more burgers since then.

Neither Zhao Dong nor Fortson could contain him one-on-one, so the Knicks adjusted. They played an off-ball double—sagging off Ben Wallace, who couldn't shoot from outside the paint.

Zhao sandwiched Shaq from behind while Fortson guarded the front.

"Pffft!"

In the NBC broadcast booth, Doug Collins let out a chuckle.

Marv Albert added, "Shaquille O'Neal… being guarded like a double-stack burger at midnight."

On the Chinese domestic stream, commentator Zhang Heli burst into laughter.

Su Qun explained with a smile, "Shaq's 216 cm tall—11 centimeters taller than Zhao Dong. But with Zhao crouching to deny the ball from behind, he barely reaches Shaq's armpits! Looks like a middle schooler trying to wrestle a bear."

---

Ron Harper didn't risk the entry pass. Instead, he swung it to Kobe on the right wing.

Sprewell shaded up. It was the league's most dangerous young star versus its most unpredictable defender.

Kobe caught it low, shielding with both hands—he didn't have the oversized hands to palm the ball like MJ or Zhao.

He couldn't pull off a fake like them either—not the one-handed ball-raise that baited defenders into biting.

"Bang-bang..."

Kobe pounded the ball, dancing with quick jab steps. Sprewell mirrored every movement.

Then, boom, Kobe dipped the shoulder, feinted left, and sliced right in a smooth pendulum drive.

In his previous life, Kobe had struggled with that first step. Too slow. Couldn't create separation. Most of his drives ended with contested jumpers near the body.

But this time around? He'd fixed it.

Kobe had clearly drilled that quickness into his game during offseason workouts.

He gained a step on Sprewell, planted, and pulled up from the right wing.

Pure rhythm.

His shooting form was picture-perfect—silky smooth, high-release, the wrist flicking like a swan's neck.

"Swish!"

Staples Center erupted.

---

O'Neal, still grumbling about the lack of touches, barked across the court, "This isn't fair! Zhao Dong's getting off-ball doubles! Why am I being babysat?"

Zhao called back with a smirk, "Then use it too! I'm not stopping you."

"…?"

Shaq blinked. Wait, what?

Wasn't he supposed to say, 'No need, I'm built different'? What kind of script is this?