"Zhao Dong, Collins from NBC gave you a new nickname—The Golden Tyrant, or the Golden Reign Man. You rockin' with that?"
A reporter shouted the question.
"Golden Tyrant?" Zhao Dong instinctively blocked out the "Golden Reign Man" part and nodded. "Not bad."
"Golden Tyrant, why'd you go so hard tonight? Was it 'cause of Shawn Kemp?" another reporter asked.
"Yeah, he's the strongest opponent I've ever faced. The tougher the competition, the better I get. Beating him only makes me grow faster." Zhao Dong nodded.
"We noticed you were playin' more outside in the third quarter, while Larry Johnson was down low. Was that part of the game plan?"
"Yeah, I'm tryna expand my game. I think I got the skill set for it. I can cover more ground on both offense and defense."
"I heard your role model is Barkley?"
"Yeah, that fat pig was my template. But honestly? I kinda regret it. Should've modeled my game after Magic instead."
The reporters laughed.
After answering a few more questions, the live interview wrapped up, and Zhao Dong headed back to the locker room.
After showering, he and Ewing followed Van Gundy to the post-game press conference.
Meanwhile, Allan Houston was feelin' some type of way. Back in Detroit, he was the guy—now in New York, he wasn't even gettin' invited to the pressers.
When Zhao Dong threw down that monster dunk on Shawn Kemp in the third quarter, the commentator called him "the next ruler of the Knicks," and the crowd went wild. That moment stuck with Houston, and it stung.
"The season just started, Zhao Dong," he told himself, clenching his fists. "Ain't nothing set in stone yet."
On the team bus, Zhao Dong threw on his headphones, pretending to listen to music. But really? He was booting up the system.
"Man, I'm hyped!"
He had a solid game and couldn't wait to see his rewards.
System Notification:
"Congrats, host! You've completed all tasks in the Team Sniper mission and earned the grand prize—a blank gold medal skill template."
"Ha!" Zhao Dong suppressed his excitement. He thought this mission was damn near impossible, but taking down Shawn Kemp sealed the deal.
Second Notification:
"You failed to complete the Super Sniper mission on Gary Payton. Mission canceled."
Yeah, no surprise there. He only managed one successful stop on Payton—dude was too slick, never letting himself get trapped in the paint.
Third Notification:
"You broke Shawn Kemp's will, auto-completing the Sniper mission! Congrats, host—you've unlocked Kemp's jumping talent. Would you like to overwrite your current jumping ability?"
Zhao Dong smirked. Since Kemp got bounced from the game early, he didn't even hit 20-10 against him, meaning he technically didn't complete all the mission objectives. But the system auto-approved it.
Now he had a choice—use Shawn Kemp's insane vertical to overwrite Kobe's?
Kemp's got a 104 cm vertical with crazy bounce. But Kobe's athleticism wasn't bad either.
"My wingspan plus Kobe's hops already make me a beast. But man, I wanna test my luck."
"Yo, System—if I do a lottery, can I check the prizes first?"
"No. All prizes are generated randomly."
"Damn, really?" Zhao Dong hesitated.
Shawn Kemp's jumping talent was top-tier. If he gambled and got trash, it'd be a massive L. But if he overwrote Kobe's talent, that was a waste too.
After debating, he said, "Screw it, let's roll the dice."
"Lottery initiated. Randomizing prizes."
A blue light flashed, and a huge turntable popped up.
12 prize slots.
The first thing he saw? Curry's shooting touch.
"Yo, this jackpot is stacked!" His excitement skyrocketed.
Then, the second slot: Tracy McGrady's old man back.
"...WTF? If I land on this, I might as well retire. Who the hell put this on the board?"
Third slot: Shaq's three-pointer.
Fourth slot: The Roaring Skill of Roaring Heavenly Lord.
Zhao Dong nearly passed out.
"System, you playin' with me? I swear I'm about to file a complaint."
"This system does not have a complaint hotline."
He shook his head and kept reading.
Fifth slot: 5 quality points.
Sixth slot: Hamilton's off-ball movement.
Seventh slot: 10 skill points.
Eighth slot: Yao Ming's giant feet.
Ninth slot: LeBron's crab dribble.
Tenth slot: Kobe's core strength.
Eleventh slot: Marbury's leg skills.
Twelfth slot: Spin again.
Zhao Dong clenched his fists. "Aight, let's do this."
"Lottery spinning..."
The pointer whirled around fast, then slowed.
"...Shit, shit, shit…"
It barely missed the first prize—Curry's touch. Behind it? Three straight joke prizes.
"Come on, don't screw me over—keep moving!"
The pointer barely slid past the three joke slots. He exhaled in relief.
Now he had a shot at 5 quality points, Hamilton's movement, or 10 skill points.
The pointer kept crawling forward... past Hamilton's grid... and stopped at 10 skill points.
Zhao Dong exhaled.
"Man, I got finessed... Kemp's jump for just 10 skill points? System, you owe me big time!"
If he had taken Kemp's vertical and maxed it out, he'd be damn near unstoppable. Now? He had to grind those skill points just to level up.
At higher levels, it'd take 3 quality points per level to improve his vertical, meaning 10 points would only move him up three levels.
Shaking his head, Zhao Dong leaned back on the bus seat. "Guess I gotta cook even harder next game."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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