Without Karl Malone, the Jazz were in trouble. Their starting center, Greg Ostertag, was out with an injury, and his backup Greg Foster was also sidelined. The two forwards filling in? They got lit up by Zhao Dong the moment he turned up the heat.
The Jazz tried to slow him down with fouls, but it didn't work. In just half a quarter, those two picked up four fouls combined. Zhao Dong was on fire—4-for-4 from the field, 5-for-6 from the line, dropping 13 points just like that.
At the 6-minute mark of the first quarter, Karl Malone checked back in.
Scoreboard read: 18–8. Knicks had already run up 18 points in just half a quarter.
The Jazz tried to run a play, and Malone came in swinging—literally, using that elbow of his again.
But Zhao Dong didn't flinch. He took that iron elbow head-on.
Even under that aggressive pressure, Malone couldn't get any rhythm. He forced up three shots—got blocked once—and bricked them all.
"The Mailman's having a rough night against a beast like Zhao Dong," Matt Goukas shook his head.
"That's on Karl," Marv Albert chimed in. "He's always relied on that elbow to carve out space, so his jumper was never elite. Now he's up against a tough, hard-nosed guy like Zhao Dong? That low efficiency was bound to happen.
To be fair, he's a power forward—he's not gonna have the same offensive bag as Zhao Dong, and that's just how it is."
Knicks' possession.
This time, Zhao Dong didn't head to the post. He pulled up to the left wing behind the arc and signaled to Billups.
His sudden shift confused the Jazz. Malone hesitated, then stepped out to guard him.
But boom—Zhao Dong hit the turbo, blew right past Karl, caught the dish from Billups, and stormed straight into the paint.
The Jazz collapsed their defense fast. Zhao Dong slipped in from the left side.
Bryon Russell slid down from the free-throw line to block, but Zhao Dong hit him with a quick spin, switched hands, and slipped under the rim near the baseline.
Substitute center Chris Morris turned to contest, but Zhao Dong was already airborne.
He rose with the ball in his left hand, spun mid-air, and hammered it home.
"Ohhh, damn!"
The arena exploded.
"Zhao Dong just cooked three defenders and bodied Chris Morris at the rim! Man's straight-up dismantling the Jazz defense all by himself!" the announcer lost it.
Jazz ball.
The Black and White combo tried a pick-and-roll, but got nothing out of it. Jeff Hornacek found some daylight on the right wing and got the pass.
Hu Weidong, who'd just subbed in, got shaken off the initial screen but hustled back in time.
Hornacek faked the shot, got Hu in the air, then went up for the jumper—
"Clank!"
Zhao Dong came flying in behind and swatted it with one big paw.
"Push it!" Coach Nelson barked from the sideline.
Zhao Dong took off, sprinting down the court with the rock, Hornacek hounding him on the side.
Hu Weidong cut in from the left wing, and only Stockton was backpedaling to defend.
"Zip!"
Zhao Dong lobbed it to the rim—
"BOOM!"
Hu Weidong snatched it mid-air and flushed it with both hands.
"Bang!"
Two more for the Knicks.
"Beautiful! Zhao Dong and Hu Weidong with the alley-oop!" Zhang Heli shouted on CCTV.
The Jazz went back on offense. Karl Malone ran around screens and finally found an open jumper—hit it.
But right back at 'em, the Knicks pushed again. Oakley threw the outlet. Zhao Dong caught it at midcourt and dashed toward the rim.
Hornacek and Russell scrambled to cut him off at the basket.
But Zhao Dong? Man was running on pure adrenaline.
At that moment, he wasn't just attacking—he was hunting. He was the kind of dude who'd dunk on a mountain if it stood in front of him.
He took off from just beyond the free-throw line, using that crazy boost from the Silver Demon, and launched into the air.
"Zhao Dong's going OFF!"
The entire arena held its breath.
Russell and Hornacek both panicked and ducked, hands on their heads.
"BOOM!!!"
Zhao Dong split his legs mid-air, soared over them, and destroyed the rim. The entire backboard shattered, and the basket collapsed like glass in a car wreck.
"OOOOOOHHHHHH!"
Madison Square Garden went nuclear.
"CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!"
Cameras flashed like lightning behind the baseline. Reporters were yelling like it was a concert.
"Wha… what was THAT?! Did Zhao Dong just… fly? He jumped over two dudes—one of 'em is 6'6"! Then straight up wrecked the backboard! Was that a movie stunt? A space jam dunk? What is he, a freakin' MONSTER?!"
The commentator lost his damn mind.
"Yes! A monster! That's what he is!"
O'Neal was standing courtside, hands on his head, staring in disbelief.
"This is insane," Magic Johnson added, just as shook.
"I'm doing that dunk someday…"
In Florida, a young Vince Carter stared at the TV, eyes glowing.
Zhao Dong carefully dropped down from the wrecked rim, wiping his shoes on the floor.
Hornacek and Russell just stared at him, pale-faced like they'd seen a ghost.
"Lemme check your chest real quick—are you hiding a monster inside?"
O'Neal stepped in, half-joking, trying to peel Zhao Dong's jersey.
"I only got my dick in there, idiot," Zhao Dong joked, grinning.
"I swear, if you ever try that on me, I'm dropping you."
O'Neal suddenly turned serious.
Zhao Dong looked at him and nodded. "Then you better be ready, because I'm flying over you the second you blink."
"Man, I'll slam you into a pancake," O'Neal barked, knowing the threat was real.
"Yo, Zhao Dong, were you doing ballet in the air? That mid-air split was clean. You sure you ain't a dancer?"
Magic Johnson called out.
Zhao Dong pointed to the court. "Out here, I can do whatever the hell I want."
"Brother Dong, that was nuts!"
Jackie Chan ran over, fired up.
"Brother Jackie, that still ain't as crazy as you jumping off rooftops," Zhao Dong laughed.
"Haha, that's true!"
Jackie Chan gave a proud grin.
"Honey, that was terrifying,"
Lindsay rushed over, concern written all over her face.
"I got a little hyped, but I'm fine. I don't break easy," Zhao Dong reassured her.
"No wonder you took two bullets and still walked out fine. You're a real-life Iron Man,"
Jackie gave a thumbs-up.
"Brother Zhao, you just crushed the Jazz's whole spirit!"
Yao Ming laughed.
"This one's already in the bag,"
Wang Zhizhi grinned.
Zhao Dong glanced at the Jazz bench. Everyone had their heads down—sipping water, wiping sweat, hiding behind towels. Even Karl Malone looked dazed. Yeah… they got hit hard.
"The Jazz are done. Even if Jordan showed up to help, they'd still get blown out!"
Zhang Heli roared from the CCTV booth.
Just like he said—once the rebounds were traded off, the Jazz were toast. With no morale left, they got steamrolled. The Knicks took Game 3 and snagged the match point in the Finals.
Same as the last two games, Zhao Dong clocked out after three quarters. And just like Game 2, he dropped a 20+ point triple-double. Dude was unstoppable.
In the post-game interview, Knicks beat reporter Thomas grinned wide as he leaned in, eyes lit up.
"Zhao Dong, you've already flown over John Stockton, Bryon Russell, and Jeff Hornacek—three core starters for the Jazz. Are you planning to dunk on the rest of 'em too?"
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Who you talkin' about?"
Thomas laughed. "There's only one left who hasn't been humbled—the Mailman, Karl Malone. That's who."
"I'll give it a shot if the chance comes up," Zhao Dong said casually.
A Salt Lake City reporter snapped, "Zhao Dong, aren't you going too far? You ain't afraid someone might drag you down?"
Zhao Dong's smile faded as he fired back, "When the Mailman elbowed the back of my head last year, I already braced for everything. And by the way, do Salt Lake reporters even have the right to be mad?"
"I declare you're now the lifelong enemy of Salt Lake City media!" the reporter barked.
"Appreciate it. Doesn't mean I care," Zhao Dong said coldly.
---
An hour later, the Jazz hosted their post-game press conference.
Even though they'd made the Finals two years straight, the room was half-empty—only about 20 reporters, plus cameramen and assistants totaling maybe 40 people.
"Coach Sloan, do you think your team still has a shot to turn this around?" a Salt Lake reporter asked, voice heavy with gloom.
Jerry Sloan stayed silent for a few beats before finally saying, "We'll do our best."
"But coach," a reporter from the New York Sports Daily shouted, "is that to avoid getting swept, or to actually win the championship?"
"Sir, it's not your turn to speak. Please wait," the Jazz media host cut in, annoyed.
"Just pointing out the holes in his answer," the New York reporter shrugged. "You should thank me."
The host's face turned red with anger. Damn New York media, just like Zhao Dong—never easy to handle.
---
Back at the Knicks' press conference, the room was packed to the walls. Over a hundred cameras were locked in, flash bulbs going off like strobe lights.
"Zhao Dong, the league's announcing the All-NBA Teams tomorrow. What's your expectation?" asked a New York Times reporter.
"Double First Team. That's the only outcome I'm lookin' for," Zhao Dong replied with zero hesitation.
"If you were picking the All-NBA First Team, who you got?"
Zhao Dong paused, then said, "Center—O'Neal. Forwards—me and Tim Duncan. Guards—Jordan and Gary Payton."
"And the All-Defensive First Team?"
"Center—Mutombo. Forwards—me and Duncan again. Guards—Jordan and Payton," he said smoothly.
That answer made the room stir.
Reporters gasped and exchanged looks. The only switch between his All-NBA and All-Defense was the center—O'Neal for one, Mutombo for the other.
"Zhao Dong, do you really think Tim Duncan deserves spots on both First Teams? And what about Karl Malone? You leaving him out because of beef?"
Zhao Dong grinned. "Nah, this ain't about beef. Duncan's got way better rim protection. Karl Malone averaged what—0.9 blocks this season? Duncan had 2.5. When it comes to shutting dudes down and altering shots, Duncan's got the edge."
"But the Mailman put up 27 points, 10.3 boards, and 3.9 dimes. Duncan only had 21 points, 11.9 boards, and 2.7 assists. Mailman's stats are better."
Zhao Dong waved it off. "Look, I'm not hyping up a rookie for no reason. Honestly, if Duncan does get double First Team, I'll be jealous. 'Cause I didn't get it in my rookie year—I only made double Second Team.
"But Malone? Dude's a finisher, not a creator. He eats off the system. How many offensive possessions does he lead? How often does he draw doubles or open up shots for others? That ain't the same as being the go-to guy."
"Zhao Dong, do you think the Jazz will fall apart like the Bulls after this Finals?" a Los Angeles Daily News reporter asked.
"I dunno, man. Who even pays attention to the Jazz like that?" Zhao Dong smirked. "Even as their 'lifelong enemy,' they're not worth my attention."
Laughter erupted around the room.
The host brought things back on track. "Zhao Dong, there's word that Phil Jackson's now GM of the Bulls and is working to rebuild a contender. Think the Bulls can challenge the Knicks next season?"
Zhao Dong rubbed his chin. "Depends. They need to overhaul their frontcourt and beef up the bench. If they pull that off, they might just become one of the superteams next year."
"Any truth to the Knicks breaking up the current squad?" another reporter asked.
"Yeah, we'll probably lose a few guys. That's how it goes after a championship run," Zhao Dong said.
"So, are the Knicks still title contenders next season?"
Zhao Dong flashed a confident smile. "As long as I'm on the roster, we're in the mix."
---
The next morning at 9 a.m., the league dropped the All-NBA First Team list.
"Congrats, Zhao Dong!"
A friend from China rang him up right away.
"Appreciate it."
"It's exactly what you predicted. How'd you get it so dead-on?"
"Easy," Zhao Dong laughed. "Those five were the best at their positions all year."
"What about the All-Defensive Team?"
"Only thing I wasn't sure about was whether they'd let a rookie like Duncan get both First Teams. If not, Karl Malone might sneak into one of them."
At 10 a.m., the All-Defense team list dropped.
Just like he thought—Duncan didn't make All-NBA First Team. Karl Malone got slotted in for defense, which let Duncan keep his defensive spot.
That also meant Zhao Dong officially got his dream—double First Team honors.
His phone buzzed nonstop with calls. Teammates from the national team, friends overseas—everyone wanted to congratulate him.
The system also handed him his final reward of the regular season—15 skill points.
First thing he did? Spent 2 skill points to upgrade his post-up game from 94 to 95. That made it a gold-tier skill—his last one to reach elite level.
His fadeaway jumper at level 94 couldn't go up yet. He needed better balance, which meant winning the chip and unlocking more quality points.
He saved 2 points just in case—one more upgrade would gold that skill too.
Next up, he dropped 4 points on his inside defense, bumping it from 93 to a perfect 95.
His current defense stats were stacked:
Perimeter Defense: 95
Inside Defense: 95
Rebounding: 99
Blocks: 93
Steals: 90
Dude was a brick wall.
He figured that was enough on defense for now. He'd focus on offense once more points came in.
With 7 points left, he had two tempting options.
Option 1: Upgrade his step-back jumper from 92 to 95—making it his seventh gold skill.
Option 2: Push his dribble penetration from 96 to 98, making it even deadlier.
He leaned toward the second. Strong getting stronger.
Only thing that bugged him? Ball control was still at 96. Would that hold him back from maxing out the skill?
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