At 9:00 a.m. on January 15, 1999, the NBA's labor dispute officially came to an end.
After months of intense negotiations, the league and the players' union reached a full agreement and signed a new collective bargaining agreement. The most important change? The official introduction of the luxury tax system and a soft salary cap.
Under this new rule, if a team's total salary exceeds 55% of basketball-related income, they'll have to pay a dollar-for-dollar luxury tax for every dollar over the limit. That money gets redistributed evenly to teams that stay under the cap by season's end.
The agreement also introduced several key exceptions—like the Larry Bird exception, mid-level exception, and veteran minimum exception—giving teams more flexibility to retain or sign players even if they're over the cap.
The lockout was over.
The league declared that the 1998–1999 season would officially begin on 5th and end on May 5th—just three months long. There'd be no preseason, and only 50 regular season games. It was going to be a sprint.
And at exactly 9:00 a.m., the trade window opened.
Within ten minutes, Commissioner David Stern was staring at his desk, buried under a pile of trade applications.
"Karl Malone to Philly?" Stern murmured, raising an eyebrow as he reviewed a deal between the Jazz and the 76ers.
After a moment, he leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Not a bad move. Strengthens the East. Good for the league."
Then he chuckled, muttering under his breath, "But these young guys... they all got their issues. Zhao Dong's got that fire in him, and Iverson... well, he's got hip-hop in his blood."
By 10:00 a.m., the league had approved a flurry of deals. And the first blockbuster trade immediately sent shockwaves through the basketball world:
Karl Malone had officially joined Allen Iverson in Philadelphia.
"Man, this is huge," a Philly fan shouted outside the 76ers' facility. "The Answer and the Mailman? That's the championship combo right there!"
"They're like... the 'Email Duo' or something," another fan laughed. "You know—speed and power. Iverson's the lightning, and Malone's the delivery!"
The name stuck. The Email Duo. In just hours, it spread across the city and the media like wildfire.
"A new championship-level squad is born!" – The New York Times
"The East is stacked. Knicks and Bulls in Tier 1. Heat, Pacers, Magic chasing." – New York Sports Dailyl
The hype was real. But for Malone and Iverson, just being "contenders" wasn't enough.
They wanted the ring.
Malone, especially, wasn't wasting time. In the final year of his contract and earning just $6 million, he pushed the front office hard. The trade for Derrick Coleman cleared cap space, and now Malone wanted one more All-Star-level piece to complete the puzzle.
Meanwhile, up in New York, the Knicks were making big moves of their own.
At 10:00 a.m., they officially bought out Larry Johnson's contract—a deal that cost them tens of millions. Owner James Dolan had to bite the bullet, even though it nearly matched what he paid to buy the team itself.
But the move was necessary.
New York was already near the luxury tax threshold, and the front office needed to clear space to sign Zhao Dong—the rising star Dolan had targeted with a lottery pick contract.
Thanks to Ernie Grunfeld, Zhao Dong's signing was finally on deck. The Chinese phenom sat in Grunfeld's office with his agent Wells, phones off, ready to ink the biggest deal in NBA history.
In front of him was a 6+1 contract, the final year being a player option. The deal would run through summer 2005, lining up perfectly with the next CBA expiration.
First-year salary? $20 million, with a 10.5% annual raise. Total value: $192.6 million.
No one in NBA history had ever signed a bigger deal.
And that wasn't all.
James Dolan also handed Zhao Dong an endorsement deal with Madison Square Garden—7 years, $82 million in total. That endorsement alone rivaled Michael Jordan's prime income.
While MJ had signed a $30 million/year deal for a few years, Zhao Dong had age on his side. His long-term deal stretched into the future, setting a new standard for NBA contracts.
Later that day...
At noon, the Knicks held a massive press conference at Madison Square Garden to announce the historic signing.
The entire media world showed up, their cameras flashing as Dolan and Grunfeld stepped up to the podium.
"We're proud to welcome Zhao Dong to New York," Grunfeld said. "This is a new era."
"Two contracts?" Thomas, a Knicks beat reporter, asked. "Can the league even approve an endorsement deal like that?"
"We've already cleared it with the league," Dolan replied, smiling. "No objections."
Another reporter, from The New York Times, asked sharply, "Zhao Dong, isn't it a little unreasonable to give up boxing—where you earn more—to come back to the NBA for 'just' this amount?"
Zhao Dong chuckled and shook his head. "If I cared about the money, I wouldn't be boxing or playing basketball. I've got better ways to earn. I'm here because I love the game."
Then came a softball from a local station—owned by Dolan, of course.
"Zhao Dong, what are your goals for this season?"
"A dynasty," he said without hesitation. "That's the goal—nothing less."
By afternoon, the Knicks were in full gear.
They traded John Starks and Latrell Sprewell to the Warriors.
Then flipped Allan Houston and Kevin Willis to the Rockets.
They re-signed Larry Johnson on a veteran minimum, signed Charles Barkley as a free agent, added a few key role players, and in one day—rebuilt their entire core.
The East had just gotten a lot scarier.
After finalizing Zhao Dong's contract, Ringo Wells rushed off to Chicago to help Wang Zhizhi sort out some early issues with the Bulls.
That evening, Zhao Dong picked up the phone and called Dazhi.
"Yo, Dazhi, you met Jordan yet?"
"I reported to the team this morning," Wang Zhizhi replied. "We saw each other, but… he didn't say much. Barely spoke to me."
"If anyone gives you a hard time, just throw my name out there, alright?" Zhao Dong said seriously.
"Got it, Brother Dong," Dazhi responded quickly.
"In the NBA, you have to take the initiative. Don't act the same way you did back home—this ain't China. Don't be too humble. You have to fight for what you want. Playing time, role, play style, even the tactics—everything's up for discussion. If you don't speak up, you'll get pushed to the side."
He paused, then added, "Also, Oakley's one of my boys. You've seen him before. If anything comes up, talk to him."
After hanging up, Zhao Dong still felt uneasy about Dazhi's personality. He knew his little bro was too quiet for his own good, so he dialed another number.
"Charles, you in Chicago yet?"
"Just landed," Oakley answered. "Haven't reported to the team yet."
"Listen, my brother Wang Zhizhi is with the Bulls. You've seen him before. Look out for him, alright? Don't let anyone give him crap."
"Don't worry," Oakley chuckled. "Your brother's my brother now. As long as I'm around, even Jordan has to give me some respect. If anyone messes with him, I'll slap 'em straight."
"He's not the outspoken type," Zhao Dong reminded him. "If you notice anything off, give him a heads-up."
"No problem, bro. I'll handle it."
"Good. Appreciate it."
Zhao Dong finally relaxed after handing the matter over to Oakley. Then he made another call—this time, back home to China.
Hu Weidong was still there. It was about time for him to return to the U.S.
"Brother Hu, how've you been lately?"
"Not bad, not bad," Hu chuckled.
"Hah, you sound way too happy. Something up with your girlfriend?"
"We made it official," Hu admitted with a laugh.
"That's great. You coming back with us this time? The season's about to start. Wells should've contacted you by now."
"Yeah, I heard from him. Already booked my flight—leaving tomorrow. My girl's staying behind for now though. Season's short anyway. She'll come with me next year."
"Sounds good."
They chatted a few more minutes before saying goodbye. After that, Zhao Dong made one more call—to Yao.
The NCAA regular season was nearing its end, and Duke University looked strong. With Yao Ming, Shane Battier, Elton Brand, Carlos Boozer, and Corey Maggette, the team was deep and talented.
Yao Ming had started making real waves this season. His height, improving footwork, and soft shooting touch were turning heads. Even in just his second year, American media were already putting him on the same level as Brand.
Elton Brand had already declared for the 1999 draft, and most outlets predicted he'd go first overall. But many insiders were saying that if Yao entered this year's draft, he'd be a lock for top five—maybe even top three.
Zhao Dong dialed.
"Brother Dong," came Yao Ming's voice.
"You asleep?"
"No, no. I'm good. Just chilling."
Zhao laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll cut the jokes."
He got down to business. "Listen, stay at Duke one more year. Don't declare for the draft yet. Wait till the 2000 draft."
"Why?" Yao asked.
"Next season, your body will be more developed. You'll finish phase one of your strength training, your skills will be sharper. By then, the media won't just call you a top-five pick—they'll call you the top pick."
Yao fell silent for a moment, then nodded. "Got it."
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Lakers GM Jerry West had just pulled the trigger on a trade—he sent Crazy Van to the Nuggets for two borderline rotation players.
Neither of them lasted long—West flipped both of them shortly after. In the end, it was basically a salary dump. No picks, no real return—just cap relief.
West had hoped to trade for a decent power forward, maybe even snag a pick from the Nuggets, but they refused. He even tried moving Crazy Van to a different bottom-feeder team to get a lottery pick, but no dice.
Elsewhere, the Hornets were in win-now mode. They offered two first-round picks for Eddie Jones, hoping he'd push them into the playoffs. Eventually, they used those same picks to land Derrick Coleman.
Morning of the 16th
Zhao Dong and Lindsay arrived at the Storm Fund headquarters early. Not long after, they led a large entourage straight to Nike's main office.
Today was the big day—Nike's annual shareholders' meeting. It was also Phil Knight's last shot at saving the company. If he could rally more than 40% of the shares, he could block Storm Fund from fully taking over.
"42%. That should be enough," Knight muttered to himself, exhausted but determined.
After working around the clock, he had finally won over several small shareholders who previously stayed neutral. He offered them all sorts of incentives, desperate to maintain control and keep Nike from falling into Storm's hands.
He knew how Wall Street wolves operated. They didn't care about the brand or business—just the bottom line. If Storm Fund got the reins, they'd tear Nike apart and sell it for cash.
And once that happened, Zhao Dong's Company would be the top contender to pick up the pieces.
---
One Hour Later – Shareholders' Meeting
83% of Nike's shareholders were in attendance. The rest were small retail investors who didn't bother showing up.
When the final vote came in, it was over.
Storm Fund had secured 45% support. Just like that, they stepped onto Nike's board of directors.
"Why?!"
Phil Knight snapped, his face flushed with disbelief. "Don't you all know Storm's gonna rip Nike apart?! What's left for you after that?!"
Several of the small shareholders who had promised him support turned their backs without hesitation.
"Phil, don't blame us," one said with a shrug. "Storm Fund agreed to let us invest directly. We're now part of the winning side."
"You—!" Knight was so furious he nearly coughed up blood. All it took was an investment opportunity to sell me out?!
Just then, one of the directors stood and faced Lindsay with a respectful nod.
"Everyone, I propose we ask President Phil Knight to step down. I nominate Miss Lindsay to take over as Nike's new president."
"Agreed."
Hands shot up all around the table—those backing Storm Fund didn't even hesitate.
Phil Knight slammed the table, stood up, and stormed out of the room.
"Lindsay, Zhao Dong—this ain't over!"
Lindsay didn't even flinch. Her expression stayed ice cold.
"It's far from over."
As soon as she became president, she planned to thoroughly investigate Knight's actions, especially around the time of the supermarket shooting. There was no forgiveness in her eyes—only a brewing storm.
---
Nike Falls – Silver Demon Rises
With Knight gone, Nike had officially changed hands. Its founder was ousted, and the sports goods market was headed for a major shake-up.
That very afternoon, Zhao Dong Sports launched the Silver Demon II.
The second-gen sneakers came with better performance, sleeker design tweaks, and subtle Chinese elements—nothing too flashy, just enough to make them stand out.
Thanks to the first-gen's stellar reputation, the Silver Demon II instantly received praise from fans and athletes alike.
Zhao Dong Sports didn't stop there. After over a year of tech development, they announced their entry into the football and general sports shoe market, aiming to expand their brand footprint.
At 9 a.m., Zhao Dong arrived at the Knicks' training base.
As he stepped out of the parking garage, he spotted Zhang Heli and his camera crew setting up.
This season, Lao Zhang had taken on a new role—CCTV's official team reporter for the Knicks. He had access to the locker room, the gym, and even private scrimmages when granted permission.
"Zhao Dong, quick question—what do you think of Dazhi? How's he gonna perform this season?" Zhang asked.
Zhao Dong paused, thinking it through. "Offensively, Dazhi's got no issues. If we set 60 as the passing score, I'd say he's a 70 right now."
"At an NBA level?" Zhang followed up eagerly.
"Of course," Zhao Dong nodded. "That kind of scoring skill makes him a solid rotation piece—maybe even more—on a team like ours."
"Awesome!" Zhang's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected Zhao Dong to rate Dazhi so highly.
But Zhao Dong waved a hand. "Don't get too hyped just yet. You know his weaknesses. He's been in the CBA for three years."
Zhang frowned. "You mean… defense?"
"Exactly," Zhao Dong said, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "He hates it. Especially physical contact. I had our trainers working with him these past two years, trying to build up his defensive grit—but he always avoided it. On offense, he'll take a hit. On defense? Not so much."
Zhang's expression darkened. "What does that mean for him?"
"It means his ceiling here might be limited," Zhao Dong explained. "In this league, if you can't defend, you're just giving points away. But… his talent's legit. He could hit 80 on offense in a season or two."
"80 points? That's All-Star level, right?" Zhang asked quickly.
"Yeah. But only if he balances it out. You can't just score and expect to make it. If he refuses to play D, he might not even get minutes. The pressure here will either force him to adapt—or push him out."
Zhang nodded, deep in thought.
---
Inside the Training Hall
"Yo! Morning, everyone!"
Zhao Dong's booming voice echoed as he walked into the gym.
"Morning, boss!"
The players looked up and greeted him warmly.
"Zhao Dong!" Hu Weidong waved with a grin.
"Zhao!" Barkley bellowed, laughing.
"Zhao!" Coach Nelson and the assistant staff walked over to shake hands.
Zhao Dong scanned the gym.
Everyone was here: Ben Wallace, Danny Fortson, Barkley, Kevin Willis, Larry Johnson, Billups, Sprewell, Hu Weidong, Mobley, Charlie Ward, Rick Brunson, a couple of fringe guys, and himself—fifteen in total.
Only Larry Johnson and Charlie Ward had been on the team when he arrived two years ago. The rest were new blood from last season or this offseason.
Then his eyes landed on one man—Latrell Sprewell, the so-called Madman.
He'd heard stories about this guy. Wild. Hard to tame.
Zhao Dong locked eyes with him.
His gaze was sharp, powerful, unflinching.
Sprewell instinctively lowered his head and looked away.
That one look was enough. Everyone in the gym knew—this was Zhao Dong's team.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Check my Pâtreon for (40) advanced chapters
Pâtreon .com/Fanficlord03
Change (â) to (a)
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Discord Link Here:
https://discord.gg/VvcakSux