The Heat kept up their defensive scheme.
But Zhao Dong switched it up, staying on the wing instead of going to the top of the arc. He attacked from the left side, using the extra space to his advantage. With his speed and power, the Heat were in trouble trying to stop him.
This time, Miami sent Mashburn and Lenard to double-team him, while Hardaway switched onto Allan Houston.
Pat Riley's plan was to use speed and agility to try and strip Zhao Dong, but that wasn't happening. He had a huge height advantage over the 6'0" Lenard, so Riley swapped in the 6'4" Lenard instead.
As soon as the double-team came, Zhao Dong hit 'em with a nasty step-back, sending Mashburn flying, then exploded forward in a quick drive.
Lenard reached out and grabbed him, but at 205 pounds, he couldn't slow Zhao Dong down. Instead, he got dragged a step back and nearly hit the floor.
Breaking past the double-team, Zhao Dong found himself facing Mourning, who slid over from the post to help.
No problem.
Zhao Dong fired a slick bounce pass right between Mourning's legs. As the big man turned to defend Ewing, Zhao Dong cut through the lane and got the ball right back.
But the Heat still had one last defender—Isaac Austin, rotating over from the right side.
Didn't matter.
Swish!
Zhao Dong took two steps inside and pulled up for a smooth mid-range jumper, cashing in for two.
Marv Albert called it: "If you wanna stop Zhao Dong, you can't give him space anywhere on the floor. Just like Jordan, his offense has no weaknesses—and his three-ball? Even better than MJ's."
Matt Goukas laughed, "Yeah, you could back off a step or two past the arc, but then you're giving up the drive. And trust me, you do not wanna deal with that smoke."
Bang!
Next possession, Zhao Dong broke through another double-team, pushed into the paint, danced past Mourning, then hammered it down with a vicious dunk.
Isaac Austin tried to contest.
Big mistake.
Zhao Dong bodied him under the rim, sending him flying three feet back. Austin hit the deck hard and didn't even try getting up right away.
The Heat's crowd fell dead silent.
Pat Riley? Stone-faced. No yelling, no frustration—just a quiet timeout.
Matt Goukas shook his head, "With Zhao Dong out there, the Heat don't even look like they're in the same league as the Knicks."
Marv Albert chimed in: "This squad is legit championship material. The Eastern Conference Finals are gonna be crazy."
Matt nodded. "No doubt."
Then Marv suddenly threw out a wild question. "Shaq came into the league in '92 and made the NBA's Top 50 list by '96. Took him four years. How long do you think it'll take for Zhao Dong?"
Matt was caught off guard. "Wait, what?"
"You heard me," Marv grinned. "Top 50 all-time. You telling me Zhao Dong doesn't have the game for it?"
Matt paused. "Well… at the very least, he's already on Pippen's level. And when he faced Karl Malone, the Mailman didn't exactly have an easy time."
Marv smirked. "That's what I'm saying. The Mailman himself couldn't dominate Zhao Dong, so he's got a case."
Meanwhile, Miami tried everything—locking in from three, tightening up on defense—but nothing worked.
Zhao Dong was a problem.
It wasn't just the scoring. Every time he got into the paint, the Heat had to collapse, leaving the Knicks with open looks everywhere. Whether he stopped for a pull-up, kicked it out for an assist, or straight-up bullied his way to the rim, Miami had no answers.
"This ain't even close," Marv said. "As long as the Knicks play it smart, the Heat cannot win."
Final score: 104-81, Knicks win Game 3.
They were officially on sweep watch.
Zhao Dong logged 41 minutes, dropping 39 points, 10 rebounds, 9 assists, 2 steals, 5 blocks, 3 turnovers, and 4 fouls—just one assist shy of a triple-double.
"I told you, Charles, this is our best shot at winning the championship. You believe me now?" Zhao Dong said to Oakley after the game.
Oakley grinned. "Hell yeah, I believe it now. We about to sweep the Heat, man!"
"Man, fuck outta here with that."
Alonzo Mourning, standing nearby, overheard them. Already pissed about the loss, he wasn't about to let them talk like that. He shot them a death glare.
"You ain't sweeping shit."
Zhao Dong smirked. "You sure about that?"
"Come back here the day after tomorrow, and this place is gonna be hell for y'all," Mourning growled.
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Man, you tryna scare me? It's just basketball, not a damn warzone."
Later, during the postgame interview, Thomas asked, "Zhao, you think y'all can sweep the Heat?"
"Man, if we can, why the hell not?" Zhao Dong laughed.
A Miami reporter cut in. "Alonzo said it's gonna be hell in Game 4."
Zhao Dong deadpanned, "You tryna tell me we need to bring guns? That's the dumbest trash talk I've ever heard."
The reporter blinked, speechless. "Uh… it's a metaphor—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Zhao Dong interrupted, shaking his head.
Zhang Heli asked, "Zhao, you were close to a triple-double tonight. Any regrets?"
"Regrets? Nah. We won. That's all that matters."
A New York Times reporter followed up, "Any thoughts about Game 4?"
Zhao Dong shrugged. "Not really. My mind's already on the Eastern Conference Finals."
"You're too damn arrogant!" some of the Miami media snapped.
Zhao Dong just grinned. "We're up 3-0. How exactly are the Heat turning this around? You tell me."
He ended the interview and headed back to the locker room.
That night, back at the hotel, Zhao Dong turned to Oakley. "Charles, I need a favor."
"Yeah? What's up?"
"There's this kid back home in China. He wants to play in the NCAA. Think you could help him get some looks? Maybe from your old school?"
Oakley rubbed his chin. "Depends. How good is he?"
"Seventeen years old. Seven-foot-four. Built like me."
Oakley's eyes widened. "Wait—he's what?"
"Yeah, dude's huge," Zhao Dong nodded. "But don't let the height fool you. He's got footwork, a soft touch, and shoots over 80% from the line."
"Damn!" Oakley whistled.
"He played in China's high school league. Kid's got the talent to be an NBA All-Star, no doubt. Originally, he was gonna go pro over there, but his agent wants him in the NCAA first. UCLA's interested, but I think Georgetown would be a solid fit, too."
Oakley nodded. "I believe you. I can hook him up with Virginia Union. I got some connects at Georgetown, too, but he'll need to come out here first."
"Bet," Zhao Dong said.
Oakley leaned back. "So, what's your take on Game 4?"
Zhao Dong smirked. "Man, I smell some home-court bullshit coming."
Oakley laughed. "Hell yeah. Refs ain't gonna let us sweep. They'll milk this series for all it's worth."
And just like they predicted, Game 4 was a damn whistle fest.
On the first possession, Zhao Dong drove past Mashburn—whistle. Offensive foul.
The Heat were getting damn near every call, while the Knicks couldn't buy a whistle. Zhao Dong and Ewing picked up two quick fouls, forcing Ewing to the bench early.
The free throw disparity? Ridiculous. Miami shot 42 free throws. The Knicks? 21. Exactly half.
Zhao Dong drove the lane just like he did in Game 3, but this time, he kept getting hacked with no calls. He got knocked down six times—only got to the line twice.
Thanks to those free throws, Miami stole the game, 92-86.
Zhao Dong fouled out with nine minutes left in the fourth. His stat line in 36 minutes:
23 points, 10 rebounds, 7 assists, 2 steals, 4 blocks, 5 turnovers, 6 fouls.
Dude was pissed. Not only did they blow the sweep, but he also missed out on the extra reward.
The next day, the Knicks flew back to New York with a 3-1 lead. Fans packed the airport, cheering them on.
Back home, the refs weren't about to pull that same bullshit. Game 5? Straight-up domination.
The Knicks closed out the series with a blowout, sending the Heat packing with a 4-1 win.
That same night, over in the West, the Jazz eliminated the Lakers, also in five games.
Zhao Dong went off in Game 5:
39 points, 11 rebounds, 10 assists, 2 steals, 3 blocks.
His series averages? Straight-up nasty:
41 minutes per game
33.0 PPG on 56% FG
11.2 RPG
8.2 APG
2.2 SPG
3.7 BPG
Dude almost pulled a triple-double average for the entire series.
He also completed his series objective—but since they didn't sweep, he didn't get the double reward. Instead, he picked up 5 quality points and 5 skill points.
For the first time since '94, the Knicks were back in the Eastern Conference Finals.
New York fans? They were hyped.
Everybody was dreaming big.
Beating Jordan. Taking the East. Winning it all.
The New York media was having a field day, analyzing the first two series and debating which Knicks player was the most important.
"The New York media is wild, man. They tryna start beef between us?"
Zhao Dong woke up around noon, turned on the TV in his hotel room, and immediately started cursing out the reporters.
Today was the 15th, and the Eastern Conference Finals were set for the 20th. The Knicks had a 3-1 record against the Bulls in the regular season, home-court advantage, and a few days to rest before the war started.
Zhao Dong decided to take it easy for the next two days—and maybe find some company to pass the time.
"Damn, I still got points to spend."
He pulled up his system and upgraded his core strength and lower-body strength, spending two quality points to push core strength to 91 and one point to raise lower-body strength to 88. His upper-body strength stayed at 85, but his overall strength was now 88.
With the last two quality points, he boosted flexibility and balance to 86 each.
As for skill points, he already had a plan. His ability to break down defenders off the dribble was too important. If he wanted to be unstoppable, that had to hit an elite level.
First, he bumped his ball-handling from 94 to 95, spending two skill points. Ball control was the foundation of everything.
Then, he dropped two more skill points into dribble penetration, leveling it up to 95 and unlocking his fourth gold badge.
"Gold Badge: Dribble Penetration (95) – Increases chance of blowing by defenders by 30%, increases chance of breaking double-teams by 30%."
Zhao Dong grinned. "Finally, something that actually helps against double-teams."
His previous gold badges—pull-up jumper and turnaround jumper—only helped shake one defender at a time. But this? This was a real game-changer.
With his last skill point, he upgraded his passing and catching to 86.
His vision still weren't elite, and he had a habit of coughing up the ball under heavy pressure. Even though he was primarily a scorer, tightening up his passing would help him escape traps and keep the offense flowing.
His shooting could also use a boost—it was only at 93, and that was affecting his efficiency. Too bad there was no sweep bonus this round.
In the afternoon, Zhao Dong drove back to Stony Brook University.
He still kept up with his studies when he had time. But today? He wasn't here for class. He was here for some fun.
He had already given up on Akagi Haruko. That girl probably had family ties and a different mindset from him. She was deep into Western culture, like most international students from China. She was probably planning to immigrate and never look back.
In his past life, he had seen the true face of the West—especially during that pandemic before his rebirth. He knew what was up. He had zero love for Western culture and their so-called "values."
And most of the Chinese international students at Stony Brook? He didn't vibe with them either. Too many ideological differences.
"Hello, Senior Zhao Dong! Nice to meet you."
As soon as he parked his car in the Seawolves' arena garage, a beautiful Asian girl jogged up to him and gave him a deep 90-degree bow.
Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow. "Japanese?"
He wasn't a fan of Japanese people—but Japanese women who threw themselves at him? Different story. The more, the better.
"No, I'm Korean-American. My name's Park Mi-yeon, but my English name is Loris. I just finished my freshman year. I'm a huge fan!"
"Oh yeah?" Zhao Dong smirked. "I was about to head upstairs to hoop with the Seawolves. You coming?"
"Really? Can I?"
"Of course. But you gotta come to dinner with me after. And then we're hitting a midnight movie."
The moment she heard that, Park Mi-yeon's heart started racing. She had heard the stories about this senior.
But instead of backing off, she nodded.
Zhao Dong grinned and held out his arm.
Blushing, Park Mi-yeon hesitated for a moment before stepping closer and letting him wrap an arm around her waist.
Zhao Dong gave her waist a playful squeeze, leaned in, and took a slow whiff of her neck. "Chanel, huh? Not bad, but not my favorite. Lemme hook you up with something better next time."
"Th-Thank you, Senior…"
Her face was burning, and she was walking stiffly.
Nearby, a few big dudes were watching the scene unfold.
"Damn, the Wolf King just pulled up and already scooped an Asian beauty."
"I was gonna shoot my shot earlier, but it's a wrap now. Wolf King's definitely taking her home tonight."
"Eh, no stress. He won't keep her long. Just wait your turn."
"Man, I swear, being a star athlete is a cheat code. Girls just throw themselves at you."
"Screw it. I'm joining the football team."
"Baseball team for me."
By the time Zhao Dong and Park Mi-yeon stepped out of the underground parking lot, people were already greeting him left and right.
"Yo, Zhao Dong, here to bag chicks again?"
"Yup."
"Bro, the Eastern Conference Finals are in five days, and you still got the energy for this?"
"Hell yeah."
"Wolf King, that girl fine. How long you keeping her?"
"Man, get lost."
Zhao Dong made his way through the training facility, eventually finding the Seawolves' men's basketball team.
"Damn, Wolf King, you just got here and you already got a new chick?"
"Zhao Dong, we need tickets to the Eastern Conference Finals, don't even try to dodge it."
"Yeah, hook us up and we'll keep an eye on your girl for you. No one's taking her while we're around."
Zhao Dong laughed and dapped up a few of the coaches before turning back to his teammates.
"Y'all want Eastern Conference Finals tickets? You know how much Knicks tickets cost right now? A nosebleed seat could cover your rent for a year."
"Man, cut the BS. If the Knicks respect you, they'll give you a bunch of tickets. When Shaq moved to LA, the Lakers handed him 30 tickets per game. You got that pull?"
"Yeah, Wolf King, if you can't even get playoff tickets, how you gonna act like the boss around here?"
"If you ain't got tickets, word's gonna spread. You won't be able to pull any girls at Stony Brook ever again."
The whole squad started hyping it up.
"Aight, aight! Y'all win. I'll let you know when I got 'em, cool?"
As soon as he made the promise, he grabbed Park Mi-yeon and dipped before they could press him for more.
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