Chapter 3: Reward – Kobe's Jumping Talent
As O'Neal planted himself under the basket, his eyes locked on Zhao Dong's aggressive drive. Zhao Dong charged in, determined to make a statement. Just as he launched himself for a dunk, O'Neal reacted with freakish precision.
Smack!
The sound of the block echoed through the arena. O'Neal's massive hand met the ball clean, sending it flying out of Zhao Dong's grip. The force of the rejection killed Zhao Dong's momentum mid-air, slamming him hard onto the hardwood.
Thud!
The crowd gasped in unison.
"Shit, this ain't part of the script," Zhao Dong muttered, lying on the floor. Pain shot through his body, but he didn't have time to stay down. The ball was still live.
O'Neal snagged control, and the Lakers flipped into a fast break. On the right wing, Kobe caught the outlet pass, spun past his defender, and took off down the court with that same hungry, killer instinct.
Zhao Dong, running purely on grit and frustration, scrambled to his feet. The sting from his fall and the embarrassment of getting stuffed had him seeing red.
"Not on my watch."
Kobe hit the left wing, cutting hard into the paint. His defender might as well have been a traffic cone—he had no shot. Kobe exploded off the ground, ball cradled in one hand like a damn trophy, about to baptize the rim.
Knicks' point guard Charlie Ward took one look at the incoming freight train and straight-up dipped out of the way. No one wanted to be on a Kobe poster.
But Zhao Dong wasn't Ward.
He saw the play unfolding and pushed off, sneakers squeaking like crazy as he tore into the paint. Ignoring the pain in his back, ignoring everything, he jumped—timing it to perfection.
Smack!
His hand met the ball, slapping it off course. The impact knocked Kobe off balance, sending him crashing into the press row, scattering reporters like bowling pins. Cameras flashed, capturing the chaos.
Kobe scrambled up, pissed. His eyes burned as he stormed back onto the court, jabbing a finger at Zhao Dong.
"What the fuck was that? Are you out of your goddamn mind?"
Zhao Dong stood his ground, chest still heaving. He pointed right back at Kobe.
"Rookie, let me break it down for you—nobody dunks on the Knicks in our house."
Kobe's eyes narrowed. His voice was ice.
"Bullshit! O'Neal did the same thing earlier, and you didn't say a damn word."
Zhao Dong didn't even blink.
"O'Neal better watch his back too. One of these days, he's ending up flat on his ass under our basket."
The crowd ate it up. The tension between the two young stars was electric, like the start of a legendary rivalry.
From the broadcast booth, Doug Collins shook his head.
"That was reckless," he said. "Zhao Dong's got heart, but plays like that? They shorten careers. He's risking serious injury out there."
Marv Albert chimed in, "He's undrafted and on a ten-day contract. Guys like him? They're fighting for survival. He doesn't have the luxury of playing it safe."
Doug nodded. "True, but credit where it's due—he's tough as nails. Took a brutal hit from Shaq, got up, then chased down Kobe and blocked him. That's rare. But he's playing with fire."
Lakers' coach Del Harris had seen enough and called a timeout.
On the Knicks' bench, Zhao Dong slumped into his seat, wincing as his back flared up. But despite the pain, a cocky grin crept onto his face.
"Man, that felt better than riding a jet ski," he muttered.
Across the court, Kobe sat on the Lakers' bench, still seething. He clenched his towel so tight his knuckles turned white.
"That asshole thinks he can show me up?"
Zhao Dong wasn't even thinking about Kobe anymore. His mind was on his next move. He knew this game was his shot to prove himself, and he needed every edge he could get.
Shaq was an unstoppable force, no doubt. But Kobe? Kobe's vertical was different. Zhao Dong's hops were just average, nowhere near Kobe's level. If he could steal that athleticism, it would change everything.
The game resumed, and the Lakers leaned heavy on Shaq. The Big Diesel was a wrecking ball, dominating the paint like it was his personal playground. Even Patrick Ewing, one of the league's top big men, struggled to contain him.
Coach Van Gundy adjusted, moving Oakley to the four, but let's be real—Oakley's 225 pounds couldn't do shit against Shaq's 325-pound frame. The Lakers kept feeding the beast.
The Knicks lost.
Their record dropped to 2-1.
Zhao Dong never got back in the game, left to stew on the bench.
But then—his system activated.
A notification popped up.
"Congratulations! You have acquired Prime Kobe Bryant's jumping talent."
Zhao Dong blinked, then grinned.
"Finally, something good came out of this mess."
But then—another message flashed.
"Warning: You have angered Kobe Bryant and earned the title of 'Sworn Enemy.'
Dynasty-level sniper mission activated: Snipe the Lakers' OK Dynasty."
Zhao Dong's smirk faded.
"OK Dynasty?"
He glanced across the court at the Lakers' bench. Kobe was staring right back, eyes filled with fire.
For a second, the air between them crackled.
Kobe's scowl twisted into a smirk, but Zhao Dong could see it—Kobe was heated.
As the teams headed to the locker rooms, Lakers GM Jerry West approached Shaq.
"Shaq, what do you think about that No. 46 on the Knicks? Zhao Dong, right?"
Before Shaq could answer, Kobe cut in, his voice sharp.
"You're not seriously considering him, are you?"
Jerry West raised an eyebrow. "Why not? He's got heart. We could use someone like that."
Kobe scoffed, shaking his head. "No way. That guy's reckless as hell. I don't want him anywhere near our team."
West sighed, sensing Kobe's stance. "Alright, if you feel that strongly about it."
Years later, he'd regret that decision.
In the Knicks' locker room, Zhao Dong leaned against his locker, lost in thought. His eyes flickered with determination.
"This is just the beginning. If the system wants me to take down the Lakers' dynasty, then so be it. I'll do whatever it takes."
For a split second, his mind drifted to Kobe's future.
He knew what was coming. The tragic helicopter crash. The loss of a legend.
Should he warn him?
"Nah, he wouldn't listen anyway."
With a wry smile, he grabbed his bag and headed out.
The road ahead was long.
But Zhao Dong?
He was ready for war.
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