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Chapter 143 - Chapter 143

On May 5th, the Miami Heat touched down in New York early.

At noon, they held a press conference at their hotel after media pressure.

"Coach Riley, the Heat had beef with the Knicks all season—off-court drama, fights on the court. Are y'all ready for this series?"

A Miami Sports reporter threw the first shot.

Pat Riley stayed composed. "We've prepared for everything. We fear no challenge and firmly believe we can leave New York with a win."

"Coach, is your confidence coming from the fact that you used to run the Knicks?"

This time, a New York Times reporter named Thomas pressed him.

For a split second, Riley's face twitched. Then, he flashed a gentleman's smile and responded, "That's part of it, but more importantly, it's our squad's strength that makes me confident."

Zhao Dong watched this unfold on TV and scoffed.

"Man, how the hell they expect to beat us with just Alonzo Mourning and P.J. Brown'?"

That said, Riley did build the Knicks' foundation. The squad's hard-nosed identity and defensive grit? All Riley's doing.

Zhao Dong then remembered the upcoming series was infamous—one of the wildest brawls in NBA history.

The Knicks had a 3-1 series lead. In Game 5, the Heat were up by over 20 in the fourth, about to secure a win.

Then, PJ Brown—yeah, the same dude Zhao Dong stomped on earlier—lost his damn mind.

Dude body-checked Charlie Ward outta nowhere.

That set Oakley and the rest off.

Next thing you know? A full-on brawl.

The wildest part?

Alonzo Mourning squared up with Larry Johnson one-on-one.

And?

Dude got WASHED.

Boxing lessons on the court.

Mourning's face turned into a damn pig's head.

But here's where the Knicks got screwed.

The league came down hard on them.

Charlie Ward, Ewing, and Allan Houston? Suspended for Game 6.

John Starks and Larry Johnson? Suspended for Game 7.

Only Oakley got off scot-free.

Honestly, the NBA lowkey gave the Knicks a break.

If they weren't the biggest market team, the suspensions would've been way worse.

Example?

That fight with Orlando? Ewing should've gotten a game, easy. But the NBA turned a blind eye.

The result?

The Heat took full advantage, won the series 4-3, and advanced to the Conference Finals.

Zhao Dong leaned back on the couch.

"Ain't no way history repeats itself… right?"

He couldn't shake the feeling, though.

Orlando already set a blueprint—one bench player took out three Knicks.

Would the Heat try the same tactic?

Nah, he had to talk this out with Oakley and the crew.

If the Heat pulled some dirty plays, dudes like Oakley and Starks would be throwing hands on sight.

---

After practice, back in the locker room, Zhao Dong brought it up.

"Fellas, real talk—y'all think the Heat gonna pull the same stunt as Orlando?"

Oakley glanced over. "You talking dirty plays?"

Zhao Dong nodded. "Yeah, some slick sh*t to provoke us, then BOOM—fines, suspensions, we're cooked."

Oakley scratched his head and chuckled.

Larry Johnson wasn't feeling it.

"Hold up, Zhao—you telling us to let that slide? That ain't even your style. You folded Mourning off the court and put Karl Malone in a body bag on the court. Now we get a turn, and you saying 'chill'?"

Zhao Dong grinned.

"That was the regular season, bro. If I got ejected, it didn't mean jack. But this? This is the playoffs. The big picture's different."

He leaned forward.

"Pat Riley's a win-at-all-costs type dude. Y'all know that better than anyone."

Ewing and Oakley exchanged glances.

They nodded.

John Starks shook his head.

"So what, we supposed to just eat that?!"

Zhao Dong's tone turned cold.

"I'm saying, if we HAVE to react, we do it smart. If someone's gotta go, make sure it's just one dude getting ejected, not the whole squad. And we make it count. Mourning's their anchor, right? Then we take HIM out."

Everyone looked around, processing it.

Larry Johnson perked up.

"Wait—you want ME to handle that?"

Zhao Dong smirked. "If they start sh*t, and you're on the floor? Yeah. You handle Mourning, one-on-one."

"Bet. I got that." Larry cracked his knuckles.

"If Larry ain't on the floor?" Zhao Dong turned to Oakley.

Oakley nodded. "Then it's me."

Zhao Dong crossed his arms.

"And me? I'm staying out of it. Any objections?"

The squad stayed silent.

Oakley was the only one who spoke. "Yeah—you ain't doing sh*t. You're too valuable."

Zhao Dong nodded.

Then, he turned to Ewing. "Big fella, same deal for you. If the Heat wild out, let them swing first. We respond after. That way, the league gotta look at them first."

Ewing exhaled and nodded.

"Got it."

---

May 6th.

The NBA dropped the mission for Zhao Dong's second-round series.

Objective 1: Lead the team to the next round.

Objective 2: Average 30+10 while shooting 50% or better.

Reward: 10 random attribute or skill points.

"Same deal as last round, just with a higher efficiency requirement," Zhao Dong muttered.

---

Game 1 – Knicks vs. Heat (May 7th, 1997)

Starting lineups:

Miami Heat:

PF: PJ Brown

C: Alonzo Mourning

SF: Jamal Mashburn

SG: Voshon Lenard

PG: Tim Hardaway

New York Knicks:

C: Patrick Ewing

PF: Charles Oakley

SF: Zhao Dong

SG: John Starks

PG: Chris Childs

NBC had the national broadcast.

Matt Goukas and Marv Albert held it down on commentary.

Doug Collins analyzed the matchups.

"Both teams sticking with their usual lineups. The Knicks have the edge inside and at forward, but the Heat's backcourt might have an advantage."

Marv Albert chimed in.

"The key? Slowing down Zhao Dong. He's already established himself as the Knicks' number one option. Miami's entire game plan revolves around containing him."

Matt broke it down pregame.

"Simply put, Zhao Dong is the Knicks' engine. Shut him down, and you shut down their whole offense."

Marv Albert added, "He's not a traditional point guard, but a scoring playmaker. That means he's more dangerous than your average floor general."

Matt nodded. "Exactly. A guy like Zhao Dong demands double-teams the second he gets near the three-point line. That's a bigger threat than a pure passer."

"Matt, who's more dangerous—Zhao Dong or John Stockton?" Marv suddenly asked.

Matt hesitated, then said, "No doubt, Stockton is one of the best point guards in history."

Marv cut him off. "I'm not asking about legacy. Zhao's a rookie. We're talking impact on the court right now."

Matt thought for a second. "Stockton's a legendary passer, but he doesn't pull doubles on the perimeter. Zhao Dong? The moment he steps near the arc, he's got two guys on him. That's a game-changer."

Hubie chuckled. "Yeah, I'd say that's a fair take."

Over on CCTV, Zhang Heli broke it down.

"With Oakley back, the Knicks are at full strength. On paper, Miami doesn't stand a chance."

Sun Zhenping added, "Yeah, but the biggest thing? No fights. This season's been full of them, and if the Knicks lose key players to suspensions, they're in trouble."

"Exactly. Control the emotions." Zhang Heli agreed.

--

As the teams met in the tunnel, the energy shifted.

"Tch."

Alonzo Mourning locked eyes with Zhao Dong.

He still hadn't forgotten how this rookie embarrassed him.

Meanwhile, PJ Brown—yeah, the dude Zhao Dong stomped out earlier in the season—was glaring daggers, his teeth clenched so hard they might crack.

The second the Heat walked onto the court, the boos hit like a damn hurricane.

When the Knicks' starters were introduced, Madison Square Garden went pitch black.

Then, the announcer's voice boomed:

"And now… the FUTURE of the Knicks, the ALL-AROUND KING, the TRIPLE-DOUBLE MACHINE of the first round… Zhao! Dong!"

"AHHHHH!"

The Garden EXPLODED.

Fans roared:

"Zhao Dong, kill Mourning! Kill the Heat!"

"Patrick, we want the Eastern Conference Finals!"

Zhao Dong raised both arms, yelling:

"KILL THE HEAT!"

Like a wave, the entire arena took up the chant.

"KILL THE HEAT! KILL THE HEAT!"

The intensity was unreal.

Miami's away fans? Outnumbered and outgunned. The Knicks' home-court energy completely drowned them out.

Before the game even started, the Heat players were sweating bullets.

On CCTV, Zhang Heli was hyped.

"Zhao Dong is already in their heads! He's using the crowd to crush them mentally before tip-off!"

---

Tip-off.

Zhao Dong won the jump ball. Knicks possession.

As he crossed half-court, he gave a simple hand signal—clear out.

Jamal Mashburn, Miami's small forward, was assigned to guard him. Big dude. 6'8", 240 pounds. Strong, physical defender.

But speed? He was food.

Zhao Dong baited him with a slow step, then BURST past him with a clean rhythm dribble.

The second he hit the wing, Miami's defense collapsed inward.

Patrick Ewing was posting up low on the left block, but Zhao Dong wasn't passing. First play? This one was HIS.

Mourning rushed up to help.

Zhao Dong baited him with a slight hesitation—then blew past him, cutting straight into the paint.

PJ Brown, Miami's enforcer, rushed in to contest.

Dude had real beef with Zhao Dong.

Remember—he had to get his junk stitched back together after that incident earlier in the season.

So yeah, he was coming in mad aggressive.

Zhao Dong took off.

PJ Brown clenched his fists, swinging hard—

But he missed the ball and smacked Zhao Dong right in the head.

BANG!

Zhao Dong still dunked it.

AND-ONE!

MSG went NUTS.

Zhao Dong landed, stared down PJ Brown on the floor, and barked:

"Man, even if they tied TWO of y'all together, you still couldn't stop me!"

Mourning stepped in, shoving Zhao Dong.

"Get the hell outta here, rookie!"

Oakley was already moving before Zhao Dong could react.

He shoved Mourning back hard.

"This ain't Miami, this is OUR HOUSE!"

"Ohhhh, it's about to go down!" the commentator yelled.

Marv Albert tried to cool it down on NBC: "Players gotta control their emotions here. Tensions are high."

CCTV's Zhang Heli? Sweating.

"Zhao Dong needs to stay out of this! He's the Knicks' leader—he CAN'T afford a suspension!"

Realizing this, Zhao Dong grabbed Oakley before he could swing.

"Not now, Oak. Not yet."

Oakley's eyes were burning.

But he pointed at Mourning and snarled, "Next time? You're done."

No fight. No techs.

Just pure dominance.

The Knicks set the tone from the jump.

MSG was rocking.

Miami? Already on the back foot.

And the game had just begun.

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