Chapter 290

After Zhao Dong finished teasing O'Neal, he turned and stared straight at Lakers head coach Kurt Rambis. With a smirk on his face, he sneered, "I've got a score to settle with you tonight. Just wanted to give you a little heads-up."

The Lakers locker room went quiet. Everyone turned to look at Zhao Dong, confused. Jerry West raised an eyebrow and said, "Zhao Dong, there's no beef between us Lakers and your Knicks, right?"

"No, no, no…" Zhao Dong waved it off, shifting his gaze from Rambis and smiling. "But someone here made himself my enemy. And he's big time. I can't let that slide."

"…"

Everyone was stunned, trying to figure out what he meant.

"This lunatic…" Rambis muttered under his breath.

Zhao Dong turned to Kobe next and said, "Kobe, you've been killing it this season. Averaging 23.8 points per game as a rookie—almost caught up to Iverson."

"I'm gonna be better than him," Kobe responded confidently. "But he's not my target. You are."

Zhao Dong let out a long sigh. "Man, the Knicks got hit with injuries. My teammates are drained. I had no choice but to take more shots—only averaging 44.5 points a game. If you hustle harder, maybe you'll catch up."

"…"

Kobe froze, then suddenly jumped up, frustrated. "Quit showing off! One day, I will average over 40 points in a season!"

"Haha…" Zhao Dong laughed and walked away casually.

"Stop acting like you're untouchable! I'm coming for you!" Kobe shouted from behind him.

"Kobe," Zhao Dong called back without turning his head, "you should say surpass, not just catch up. If all you do is match me, you're still not on my level."

Kobe stood speechless, ready to say more, but Zhao Dong had already disappeared around the corner.

At the doorway, Jerry West stared at Zhao Dong's fading figure. A mix of admiration and deep regret crossed his face. He turned to Kobe and said, "Kobe, make him your benchmark. If you stick with it, you're gonna have a legendary career."

"I believe it," Kobe nodded. "I'll surpass him."

"Who do you think Zhao Dong's talking about?" Derek Fisher asked.

"Maybe he's just joking?" said another bench player.

"Could be. The dude's a wildcard," O'Neal shrugged. "Don't take him too seriously."

—

Five minutes later, Matt Goukas got the updated starting lineup and called it out live on air. "Whoa, the Lakers are switching it up tonight. Backup center Tyrese Knight is starting?"

"Where's the Worm?" Marv Albert asked with surprise.

"Ohhh, baby!" Matt suddenly yelled in a high-pitched shriek, imitating Madonna. "I'm ovulating! Come here, Worm! I wanna get pregnant—right now, on the spot!"

The production crew burst into laughter.

Marv chuckled too and replied, "Come on, they only dated for what—two weeks? That was years ago. And Madonna had him on lockdown ten times a night. You really think Rodman's going back there? What does he think he is, some kind of Lao Zhang?"

Now Matt was laughing so hard he had to step away from the mic.

—

Half an hour later, the players were announced, and the starting lineups hit the floor.

Zhao Dong walked out and scanned the sideline. The crowd was insane—Hollywood royalty packed the front row. Compared to the Memorial Arena, this was like ten All-Star games rolled into one. He recognized a lot of familiar faces—celebrities who often showed up at Madison Square Garden.

There were sports stars too. Tiger Woods. David Beckham and his wife. World heavyweight boxing champ Lennox Lewis. It was a scene.

"Yo, Zhao Dong!"

Magic Johnson stood and offered a fist bump.

Zhao Dong walked over and gave him a hug. "Earvin, you're about to witness something crazy tonight."

"What do you mean?" Magic blinked. "What are you planning?"

Zhao Dong just smirked.

Then Beckham stood up with his wife and greeted him. "Zhao Dong, been a while."

"David, good to see you again."

They had first met in London, during the Tyson fight. After the match, they'd chatted for a bit.

"Did I hear something about a 'big scene' just now?" Beckham asked with a grin.

"Oh yeah," Zhao Dong said, smiling wide. "You're gonna see."

"Yo, Zhao Dong!"

"Tiger, what's up!"

He fist-bumped Tiger Woods, then moved on to Lennox Lewis.

"Hey champ, I beat Tyson. You want next?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "Tell your agent to hit up mine. Don't wait till I'm retired to run that mouth."

"You'll see," Zhao Dong pointed at him, then walked off.

—

Ten minutes later, the game tipped off.

Shaq and Big Ben stepped into the circle. Shaq towered over Ben Wallace, who barely reached his chest.

Looking around, acting like he didn't even see Wallace, Shaq smirked. "Am I the only one jumping this thing?"

Ben Wallace didn't say a word. He just rolled his eyes and muttered in his head, I'm gonna shut you down tonight, big guy.

The referee tossed the ball. Shaq slapped it down to Fisher, and the Lakers got first possession.

The Knicks set up in a 2-1-2 zone. Big Ben and Barkley covered the low blocks. Zhao Dong took the paint. Billups manned the left elbow, and Hu Weidong covered the right.

Shaq quickly realized this wasn't going to be an easy night. With Wallace behind him, Barkley waiting under the basket, and Zhao Dong lurking in help defense, there wasn't going to be much room to operate.

If he tried backing down, he'd get swarmed by help from Zhao Dong or Barkley. And unlike the Jazz, these guys weren't cheap-shot artists like Karl Malone. At least they wouldn't aim elbows at your ribs or kidneys.

Fisher brought the ball up. When Billups came to meet him, he quickly passed off to Kobe at the right wing.

Kobe was now the rising star of the Lakers. Jerry West believed in him big time. That season, Kobe had cracked the starting five and was already the core of their backcourt. Even though Fisher was technically the point guard, most of the ball-handling duties went through Kobe. Glen Rice barely saw the rock anymore.

West's vision was clear: feed Kobe possessions, sharpen his one-on-one game, and turn him into the next offensive juggernaut.

And West agreed with Zhao Dong's take on Karl Malone. A guy who couldn't create off the dribble? Who couldn't force double teams? He'd never be a true superstar.

Jerry West knew one thing clearly—if Kobe Bryant could develop elite ball-handling and shot-creation, the Lakers would have a dangerous inside-outside combo. With both Shaq dominating the paint and Kobe pulling doubles on the perimeter, L.A.'s future was looking bright.

Right now, the rookie was already averaging close to 24 points per game, and defenders had started to send help when he had the ball. The signs were there—Kobe was on the rise.

On the court, Kobe gave a hard pump fake, then took off toward the right wing, trying to shake off Hu Weidong. He beat him with the move but didn't completely lose him—Kobe's first step still wasn't quick enough, and Hu closed the gap fast.

Then came Zhao Dong—stepping up from the weak side to double-team.

The second Kobe saw Zhao Dong coming at him, that fire in his eyes lit up.

"Double-team? Bring it."

He didn't back down for a second. Kobe Bryant wasn't just another rookie. He was the most obsessive gym rat of the '96 class. He'd been grinding nonstop since the moment he was drafted at 17. Now, not even 21 yet, he'd already trained through two straight offseasons like a man possessed.

Yeah, people doubted him coming out of high school. Said he was too raw. Too young. That's why he dropped to the 13th pick. But that doubt only added fuel to his fire.

He was inspired by Zhao Dong's signature pull-up jumper, just like Iverson had been. His trainer told him he didn't have Iverson's lightning burst or Grant Hill's explosive first step, so instead, Kobe focused on control—on manipulating pace like Zhao Dong did.

He couldn't outrun defenders, but he could outthink and outmaneuver them.

After weeks of drilling those techniques, he could now break down defenders just like Iverson—but with even sharper footwork and tighter control.

As Zhao Dong closed in, Kobe suddenly hit the brakes, cut hard, and burst through the double-team.

Zhao Dong blinked—caught off guard.

"Pull-up?!"

Marv Albert shouted from commentary as Kobe rose up with textbook form.

Swish!

Straight splash. Nothing but net.

"YEAH!"

"PETER PAN!"

Lakers fans were on their feet, chanting the nickname Shaq had given him. Kobe hated it—thought it sounded soft and childish. Too green. Most guys weren't fans of being called "Peter Pan," but the crowd loved it anyway.

Kobe backpedaled downcourt, fire in his eyes, and locked onto Zhao Dong.

"I'm gonna surpass you, Zhao!"

But Zhao Dong smirked, already sprinting past him in transition.

"Try keeping up first."

Kobe turned and chased, but he was half a step behind.

The Knicks went straight into a fast break. Barkley got the rebound and zipped the ball ahead with a quick outlet. His passing wasn't flashy like Ben Wallace's, but it was smart—straight to Zhao Dong in stride.

Zhao caught it clean and sliced in from the left wing.

Glen Rice tried to rotate back, but he was too slow. By the time he reached the paint, Zhao Dong was already in attack mode. Rice hesitated outside the lane—he knew better.

Fisher came from the top, but once he saw Zhao Dong coming down the lane like a freight train, he froze near the free-throw line. He wasn't about to be part of a poster.

BOOM!

Zhao Dong launched himself just a step into the paint and hammered down a brutal tomahawk jam—one that rocked the rim and made the whole hoop groan.

He landed hard and stared down the Lakers' three perimeter guys with a cocky grin.

"If y'all can't give my dunk some soul, I might just break your damn backboard and send y'all the bill."

Kobe clenched his fists. His whole body was shaking. That Tyrant from New York—he knew how to get under people's skin.

But Kobe didn't talk back. Not yet. He wasn't the type to waste words.

Strength talks.

O'Neal heard it all from the backcourt.

"Zhao! I'ma change the damn basket for you too!"

The Diesel's roar echoed through the Forum. He'd been sprinting back, but couldn't get there in time. Now, hearing that trash talk? His blood pressure spiked.

Zhao Dong laughed as he jogged past the Lakers' bench.

"Mr. West, might be a good idea to stock up on some extra rims tonight!"

Jerry West could only shake his head and chuckle with a bitter smile.

O'Neal stormed into the frontcourt, bodying up Ben Wallace on the way. But it wasn't easy—Big Ben had a granite chest and didn't give an inch.

"This kid's strength... Damn near the same as Karl Malone."

Shaq squinted, surprised. He pulled back out and shifted to the left block.

Once in position, he spun off Wallace with shocking agility, cutting back into the lane.

Zhao Dong was dropping into help defense when he saw Shaq slip into the paint.

Kobe, stationed at the right-wing three, fired a laser pass.

Shaq leapt high, snatching it out of the air with both hands, even with Barkley crowding him.

BANG!

Shaq dunked it home with both hands, sending the rim rocking. Barkley got knocked to the ground like a bowling pin, and Zhao Dong—trying to slide over—got clipped and staggered back too.

The crowd erupted.

Shaq hung on the rim for a moment, then yanked down. The backboard creaked loudly, the rim visibly bent—but it held.

"YEAH!"

The Forum exploded with cheers.

"Beep!"

The referee blew the whistle sharply, pointing directly at Zhao Dong while signaling a foul.

"Damn!"

Zhao Dong muttered under his breath and raised his right hand in acknowledgment.

With Zhao Dong's help, Barkley struggled back to his feet, grimacing. "Sh*t! That dude's heavy!"

Zhao Dong clapped his back. "Don't trip. We'll return the favor."

On NBC broadcast, Marv Albert called out in excitement, "Whoa! That's the power of the Big Diesel—Shaquille O'Neal just imposed his will! Even a frontcourt like Zhao Dong and Barkley couldn't stop him!"

"Look at that rim—O'Neal's got it hanging like spaghetti!" Matt Goukas added with a laugh.

O'Neal pointed at the bent rim and shouted toward Zhao Dong, "Hey boy, that's power! You see that?"

Zhao Dong stared him down coldly. "Don't worry, I'll get you a new one."

Matt Goukas grinned on commentary. "Oh, it's on now! Trash talk heating up between the Big Diesel and the Tyrant under the rim! We might be in for a war down low tonight!"

Timeout was called. Arena staff rushed onto the court to replace the Knicks' damaged backboard.

On the sidelines, Magic Johnson chuckled. "Yo Zhao Dong, this the 'big moment' you were hyping me up for?"

Zhao Dong gave a calm grin. "Nah. That was just the warm-up."

A fan from the stands shouted at him, "Hey Zhao! Shark's gonna shatter another one over you!"

Zhao Dong turned his head slightly and gave the guy—an obnoxious middle-aged black man—a cold glare. "Clown."

Ten minutes later, the game resumed.

O'Neal bricked the free throw, and Zhao Dong soared up to grab the board. Dribbling up the court, he moved into the right wing and threw up a hand signal.

On the CCTV broadcast, Zhang Heli called out, "Zhao Dong is signaling—looks like a spread iso!"

The Lakers set up in a 2-1-2 zone. As Zhao Dong approached the arc, rookie Kobe Bryant stepped up to check him.

Right on cue, Barkley floated out to the perimeter, drawing Tyrese Knight, the Lakers' backup center, away from the paint.

Then—boom—Hu Weidong slashed in from the right corner, cutting straight to the rim.

The gesture Zhao Dong flashed? It wasn't a simple iso. It was bait—spread the floor, draw a double, and dish to the cutter. The final shot could be Hu or Barkley depending on the read.

Kobe lunged, expecting Zhao Dong to drive—but instead, Zhao lobbed a perfect pass over his head to Hu.

As Hu caught it and drove hard, Zhao exploded forward, bursting past Kobe and trailing right behind.

Shaq and Glen Rice rotated back to block Hu's path.

But Hu dropped a slick behind-the-back bounce pass—right into Zhao Dong's lane.

He caught it clean, took one massive step—and launched.

"BOOM!!"

The entire backboard shattered like ice under a sledgehammer.

"OH MY GOD!"

The Western Forum fell silent in an instant.

Magic Johnson stared in shock. "...Was that the big moment?"

Beckham, Tiger Woods, and other celebrities courtside looked at each other with wide eyes.

The same fan who heckled Zhao Dong earlier now stood frozen, face pale, staring at the wreckage.

With the force of the slam, Shaq staggered back three steps and collapsed with a heavy thud.

CRACK!

Glass rained down from the frame like hail. Zhao Dong swung from the rim, the shattered remains of the backboard falling around him.

On the NBC broadcast, Matt Goukas yelled, "HE DID IT! ZHAO DONG JUST BLEW UP THE BOARD!"

Marv Albert jumped in, "Revenge complete! If Shaq's dunk broke one backboard, Zhao Dong just broke the whole damn thing!"

"Shaq got POSTERIZED, twice now!" Matt laughed. "Zhao Dong's the first dude ever to dunk on Shaq like that TWICE in one game!"

On CCTV, Zhang Heli couldn't stop laughing. "Shaq messed with the wrong guy. Not only did Zhao Dong dunk on him, he flattened him!"

"This is wild!"

Sun Zhenping was nearly choking from laughing too hard. "Zhao Dong's answer to Shaq? If you break my rim, I'll break your whole board!"

Under the rim, Shaq was helped up by teammates, face dark, eyes locked on Zhao Dong.

As Zhao Dong walked past, he smiled. "You good now, big fella?"

Shaq snarled. "Good? Good for what?"

Zhao Dong smirked. "Good for catching these dunks."

"Man, shut yo—!"

Shaq growled in frustration.

Barkley jogged up, cracking up. "Feeling better now, big guy?"

"Man, Barkley shut it. You ain't the one dunkin'. I'mma dunk on YOU next."

Then he turned back to Zhao Dong. "This ain't over, Zhao. I'll get another board—just for you!"

Zhao Dong winked as he walked off with Barkley. "Better make it a steel-reinforced one."

Shaq's veins bulged. "This damn dude…!"

As Zhao Dong returned to the bench, the entire celebrity row stood and applauded.

"Yo, Zhao Dong!"

"Bro, that was fire!"

He nodded to them. "Appreciate it."

Magic Johnson reached out for a handshake. "Now that was the big moment."

Zhao Dong grinned. "Nah. That was just part one."

Magic's eyes widened. "Wait—you planning to do it again?"

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