NBA: The Dynasty Crasher

"Why am I here?"

Zhao Dong stood frozen in front of a towering building, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

"Did I just... die?"

Moments ago, he was struck by a speeding car on a bustling street in Beijing. The pain had been excruciating, and he was certain he had breathed his last. Yet here he was, alive, unscathed, and somehow standing in front of the iconic Chicago Bulls Headquarters.

The date on a nearby newspaper stand confirmed it: October 10, 1996.

"What the fuck? Did I get reborn... twenty-five years ago?"

He turned his gaze toward the building's sign, the vibrant red and black emblem of the Bulls triggering a flood of memories.

This wasn't just any day. Twenty-five years ago, today marked a pivotal moment in his life—a moment that had shattered his dreams and left scars that never fully healed.

In 1996, Zhao Dong had gone undrafted in the NBA Draft but earned a spot on the Bulls' Summer League team. His performance had been solid, impressing Jerry Krause, the Bulls' general manager, who offered him a training camp contract. Krause had even hinted at a guaranteed deal.

But just as Zhao Dong thought his dream was within reach, the contract was suddenly yanked away. The Bulls cut him loose without explanation.

Later, the New York Knicks signed him to a ten-day contract. But his brief NBA career ended before it began. On his way to the airport, he had been caught in a crossfire between police and street criminals. A stray bullet tore through his right lung, leaving it permanently damaged. His basketball career was over.

Now, standing here, Zhao Dong's mind raced.

He pulled out the bulky Motorola phone in his pocket, an artifact from the '90s. If this was real—if he truly had a second chance—then a call from Neil Grant, the Knicks' general manager, should come any second.

"Ding ding…"

The phone buzzed. Zhao Dong's heart skipped a beat.

"Hello, this is Zhao Dong."

"Zhao, this is Neil Grant, GM of the Knicks."

"Mr. Grant, good to hear from you."

"Likewise. Listen, I've been keeping tabs on you since the Summer League. With the Bulls letting you go, I'd like to offer you a spot in New York. We see potential in you."

Thirty seconds later, Zhao Dong ended the call. His hands trembled as he lowered the phone.

"This time... I'm not fucking it up."

In his past life, he had been too naïve, too trusting. He had believed in promises and fate. Not this time.

"Stay the hell away from the airport. Avoid that goddamn shootout. And this time, I'll make it to the top."

His fists clenched as he remembered that cursed day—the bullet that had ruined his life. It wasn't just bad luck. It was a cruel twist of fate that he refused to let repeat.

A loud screeching sound pulled him from his thoughts. A blue taxi pulled up to the curb. Inside, a black driver bobbed his head to music blasting from his headphones.

"Hey, man, need a ride?"

Zhao Dong shook his head, but before he could respond, a white man rushed past him and slid into the cab.

"Airport!"

Zhao Dong froze. His eyes narrowed as the taxi sped off. He remembered this exact moment from his past life. That driver—he didn't make it. He had been killed in the same shootout that ended Zhao Dong's career.

"Shit. Some things can't be changed."

Dragging his suitcase, Zhao Dong decided to stay in Chicago for the night. He turned toward a nearby hotel, determined to delay his departure.

Suddenly, a translucent screen appeared in front of him, floating in mid-air.

---

"The NBA Sniper System is starting..."

"Startup complete."

Host: Zhao Dong (Born 1977)

Physical Attributes:

Stamina: 80

Speed: 76

Strength: 80

Jumping: 62

Technical Skills:

Shooting: 80

Ball Handling: 85

Low Post Offense: 80

Mission:

"Your expulsion from the Bulls was orchestrated by Michael Jordan. You must dismantle his second Bulls dynasty."

"Jordan?" Zhao Dong muttered.

The system continued:

"Michael Jordan opposed your signing to express his dissatisfaction with Jerry Krause. The management canceled your contract to appease him."

Zhao Dong's jaw tightened.

"That smug asshole ruined my career to make a goddamn point?"

This wasn't just about revenge. This was personal.

"Jordan, you better be ready. I'm coming for your throne."

---

November 5, 1996

Madison Square Garden, New York

The Knicks were hosting the Lakers, and the game was heating up. The scoreboard read 79–70, with the Lakers leading by nine points.

Shaquille O'Neal was a wrecking ball, bulldozing through the Knicks' defense.

"Boom!"

Another dunk. The rim rattled, and the crowd fell silent. Shaq let out a roar, his dominance undeniable.

On the Knicks' bench, Zhao Dong watched in awe.

"Jesus Christ, Shaq's a fucking monster."

The system's voice interrupted his thoughts:

"Sniper Missions: Dunk on Shaquille O'Neal to gain his strength talent. Block Kobe Bryant to unlock his breakthrough ability."

Zhao Dong's pulse quickened. The rewards were too good to pass up. But there was just one problem—he hadn't played a single minute.

As if on cue, Larry Johnson went down, clutching his knee.

Coach Jeff Van Gundy looked at the bench, his face tight with frustration.

"Zhao, get in there!"

Zhao Dong hesitated, then nodded.

"Got it, Coach."

As he stepped onto the court, he could feel the weight of nearly 20,000 eyes on him.

"Oh, great," commentator Matt Bullard quipped. "Here comes the Chinese rookie. Let's hope he doesn't piss his pants against Shaq."

Bill Walton chuckled. "I'm betting he stays as far away from Shaq as possible. No one wants to end up on a poster."

Zhao Dong tightened his shoelaces, ignoring the snide remarks.

"Time to shut them up."

-----

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