The Chinese team began their first possession.
Zhao Dong brought the ball up just past half court, setting up the offense.
Coach Jonas had laid out a dual-core strategy: an inside-outside attack built around Yao Ming in the paint and Zhao Dong's ability to penetrate and create. The others spread wide—Yi Jianlian stationed at the three-point line, Yao pulled to the left wing a couple of meters outside the paint. The restricted area was completely cleared out.
Team USA countered with a 3–2 zone look, designed to trap Zhao Dong. LeBron shadowed him up top, while Kobe and Kidd guarded the wings, ready to collapse the moment he moved. Howard and Anthony manned the low posts. The message was clear: stop Zhao Dong from breaking through at all costs.
As Zhao Dong dribbled near the arc, Kobe and Kidd immediately closed in, converging on him with LeBron. A three-man wall.
Around the world, fans held their breath. Five years since Zhao Dong's last game—no one knew what would happen. Excitement mixed with nerves.
Then, in an instant, Zhao Dong shifted gears. He crossed hard to his left, brushing past Kobe and slipping through the gap. Yao Ming stepped up with a perfect screen, sealing Kobe off. Zhao Dong cut again, shaking free of Howard's switch, and stormed into the paint.
This time, he didn't just rely on craft. His sudden burst of speed triggered that terrifying natural talent—the savage collision force that had once defined him. His momentum spiked, his body surging forward like a charging bull.
LeBron dropped quickly to meet him at the rim.
At 24 years old, James was the future of basketball—gifted, explosive, touted as the one who could surpass Zhao Dong. Drafted with Zhao as his comparison, he was now the rising star of the NBA. The stage was set: the old god versus the new heir.
All eyes locked onto the duel.
Would he dunk?
The question pulsed through the arena, through living rooms across the globe.
Zhao Dong didn't hesitate. He palmed the ball in his left hand, strode into the paint, and launched skyward.
LeBron rose with him, extending his arm to block. He wasn't reckless—his jump was measured, body angled to avoid a collision, hand reaching to cut off the shot.
But Zhao Dong's midair adjustment was deadly. He tucked the ball into his chest, hanging a fraction longer, gliding past LeBron in the air.
LeBron crashed down. Zhao Dong kept rising.
Bang!
A thunderous left-handed backhand dunk smashed through the rim. The basket rattled violently.
The Bird's Nest erupted. Chinese fans leapt to their feet, fists pumping, voices exploding into a roar that shook the rafters.
On the sidelines, little Qiaoqiao spun in circles, squealing, "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
"So beautiful! This is the God of Basketball!" Su Qun shouted on the live broadcast. "Zhao Dong is still the God of Basketball! He's back! Our god has returned!"
Zhang Heli's voice cracked with excitement. "That backhand finish was effortless, yet explosive! It proves his physical condition hasn't declined at all—Zhao Dong is still at his peak! He's still the most dominant player on Earth!"
The American players froze, stunned. In that single play, they realized the truth: Zhao Dong wasn't a retired man living off reputation. He wasn't some Beijing uncle wandering the streets. He was still the same god who had terrorized the NBA—and maybe even stronger.
Coach K shot up from the bench, shouting, "Stay sharp! He's back—lock in, all of you!"
But his voice was drowned out by the deafening cheers.
Near the U.S. bench, Jordan and Magic exchanged looks.
"Ervin, still think he's only at eighty percent?" Jordan muttered.
Magic hesitated. "Eighty? Ninety? Maybe… maybe he's still one hundred percent. Maybe he's still the god who walked away in 2003."
They couldn't know the truth—Zhao Dong, empowered by years of relentless training and that brutal collision talent, was even stronger than when he left.
---
The game continued. Team USA took possession.
China shifted into a 3–2 defense, aiming to choke off the perimeter.
James drove hard from the left wing, powering through Zhu Fangyu. Kidd found him with a clean pass.
Wang Shipeng immediately collapsed to help, forcing James to dish it back. Kidd took the open three from the arc—but bricked it.
Howard seized the rebound, his raw strength overpowering Yao Ming underneath. With a violent one-handed slam, he jammed the ball over Yao's head.
"Ahhh!" Howard bellowed, shaking his head in celebration.
Zhao Dong, still pinned near the wing by Kobe, shouted back to Yao: "Push him out! Keep him away from the basket—his legs can't handle distance. Away from the rim, he's nothing."
"Got it, Brother Dong!" Yao responded quickly.
China reset, spacing the floor as Zhao Dong brought the ball forward once more.
Zhao Dong held the ball near the top of the arc, James crouched low in front of him. Kobe and Kidd hovered to the sides, ready to collapse at any moment and form a three-on-one trap.
Zhao Dong stopped two steps beyond the arc, grinned, and said to James, "LeBron, do you know the biggest difference between international rules and NBA rules?"
"What difference?" James asked reflexively.
In that instant, Zhao Dong exploded forward to the right. James reacted quickly, sliding back a step, but Zhao Dong's first step was too sharp—faster than he'd ever shown in the NBA. James lost his position instantly and was forced to turn and chase.
Squeak!
Zhao Dong slammed the brakes. James instinctively stopped as well.
The next second, Zhao Dong surged forward again. The collision badge effect triggered—his momentum doubled.
Bang!
Their shoulders clashed. James, unbalanced, toppled backwards while Zhao Dong powered through, bursting past Kobe and Kidd's collapsing defense and charging straight into the paint.
Howard scrambled back from the wing, trying to recover, but he was a step too slow. By the time he leapt, Zhao Dong was already rising. Like James earlier, Howard tried to avoid a head-on collision, angling his body to block without impact.
Boom!
Zhao Dong hammered another dunk through the rim, shaking the entire basket. The arena erupted in deafening cheers.
Zhang Heli's voice rose over the roar: "If the U.S. can't contain Zhao Dong at the perimeter, Howard alone won't stop him inside!"
"Yes!" Su Qun laughed. "Putting Anthony at power forward is too risky. Coach K was clearly gambling on offense, but it's costing them defensively."
Zhang agreed, chuckling. "Exactly. Sacrificing size for firepower—this is the downside of that lineup."
As Zhao Dong jogged back, he glanced at James with a teasing smile. "So, you understand the difference now?"
James muttered, "Yeah…"
The "Zhao Dong Rule" in the NBA had long forbidden driving players from directly colliding with a defender in legal position. But FIBA rules had no such restriction. Zhao Dong knew how to exploit that perfectly.
Sure enough, at the next dead ball, Anthony was subbed out. Coach K had no choice but to bring in Bosh, the better interior defender.
It highlighted the weakness of American basketball at the time. With the retirements of the great big men—Ewing, Robinson, Olajuwon, Mourning, Malone—the U.S. lacked true interior dominance. Duncan was still active but hadn't committed to this tournament. For now, their depth inside came down to Howard, Bosh, and Boozer—serviceable, but nowhere near legendary.
That meant their game plan would lean heavily on their superstar perimeter. Attack off the dribble, force fouls, and wear down Yao Ming.
And it was working. Even Zhao Dong couldn't completely contain Kobe, and Zhu Fangyu was badly overmatched against James.
Yi Jianlian threw himself into the dirty work, battling inside to give Yao support. He picked up two fouls in the first quarter, both while bodying James.
For China, Zhao Dong scored two baskets early, then shifted gears. He began feeding Yao Ming in the post. Against Howard, Yao was brilliant. Stronger and more polished than in the previous timeline, every shot seemed to find the bottom of the net. The crowd erupted again and again.
By the end of the first quarter, Howard was saddled with two fouls.
The score: 20–20.
During the break, Su Qun analyzed, "The teams look evenly matched so far. Zhao Dong only scored eight points, Yao Ming another eight. But it feels like Zhao Dong is holding back."
Zhang Heli shook his head. "Not holding back—being smart. By letting Yao dominate inside, the U.S. defense collapses, and our shooters have space. If Zhao Dong tried to carry everything himself, he'd face constant double-teams, and our offense would stall. Unless…"
"Unless what?" Su Qun pressed.
"Unless Zhao Dong plays like he once did in the NBA—as the 'God of Efficiency.'"
The phrase sent a surge of excitement through Chinese fans watching at home.
Zhang continued, "But stamina matters. Our bench is far weaker than theirs. Zhao Dong has to manage his energy carefully—he'll be crucial in the second quarter."
---
The second quarter began.
This was usually the time for bench rotations. Team USA sent out Deron Williams, Dwyane Wade, and Prince on the perimeter. Inside, with Howard in foul trouble, they paired Bosh with Anthony.
China countered with Zhao Dong and Wang Zhizhi up front, and Liu Wei, Wang Shipeng, and Li Nan on the outside.
"Bring the ball up and let Zhao Dong run the offense," assistant coach instructed Liu Wei.
But the U.S. came out pressing. Wade hounded Liu Wei full court. Under the pressure, Liu Wei coughed up the ball—Wade picked his pocket and streaked down for a fast-break layup.
Hu Weidong exhaled sharply. "Should've just let Zhao handle it…"
Without waiting for instructions, Zhao Dong took matters into his own hands. On the very next possession, he dropped back to receive the inbound and pushed the ball up himself.
The god was in control now.
---
(End of chapter)
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