NBA: The Dynasty Crusher (Basketball)

In truth, Gao Ziang, the branch manager of Storm Fund, was laying a trap for Li Ziying—following Lindsay's carefully laid plan.

He was about to hand Li a fifty-times leverage short contract—something Li had been dreaming of. Of course, the whole thing was Gao Ziang's idea, expertly disguised as Li's own. It was tailor-made based on psychological cues, designed to lead Li right into the pit.

Storm Fund's play was simple: help Li establish his short position first, and then, the very next day, announce to the media that Storm remained bullish on Gangcheng's economy and planned to continue pouring money into the region.

With Storm's massive influence in Hong Kong, the effect would be immediate—money would flood into the stock market, the Hang Seng Index would spike, and Li would be hit with a devastating margin call.

It was almost laughably easy. Once Li took the bait, the rest would be automatic.

Even if Storm didn't push the news, as long as Li couldn't close his position before the deadline, his account would get liquidated. The Hang Seng Index was already on an unstoppable climb. Betting against it now? That was straight-up financial suicide.

"Li, you're basically handing your head over to the blade. I'll just lay here, and you can do the honors," Gao Ziang chuckled to himself.

---

The next morning, Lindsay had just gotten out of bed when her phone buzzed. A message from Hong Kong flashed across the screen.

"It's done, husband," she said, smiling as she turned to Zhao Dong. "Li just dropped 500 million Hong Kong dollars shorting the Hang Seng Index."

Zhao Dong was mid-stretch when he heard that and nearly laughed out loud.

"Five hundred million? Short selling? What the hell is he thinking?"

He shook his head, pure disbelief in his eyes. "The Hang Seng Index is charging toward 16,000 points—it's barely at 10,000 now—and he wants to short with that kind of chump change? Bro, even if you dropped 500 billion Hong Kong dollars, you'd still get smoked."

He scoffed. "Soros came with tens of billions and still got washed. This dude thinks he can play the same game with lunch money? Let him die."

---

That morning, the media and NBA legends were still buzzing over last night's showdown.

Magic Johnson spoke to reporters:

"We didn't see Zhao Dong locking Karl Malone down like he usually does. Mailman had more freedom to work. But even with that, what we saw was a battle of efficiency. The rebounds and field goals were close, but Zhao still came out on top—clean and ruthless."

He added, "That kind of efficiency... it's scary. You try everything to stop him, and it's like nothing works. I bet Karl and Iverson are both feeling it deep."

GOD OF EFFICIENCY!

That was the headline blasted across the front page of The New York Times.

The report quickly spread like wildfire—picked up by papers worldwide. "God of Efficiency" was suddenly on everyone's lips, and Zhao Dong had just earned a new nickname.

He was now the second player after Jordan to have the word "God" attached to his name by the media.

In Chicago, The New York Times caught up with Jordan.

"Michael," a reporter asked, "what do you think of the media calling Zhao Dong the 'God of Efficiency'?"

Jordan didn't even blink. "It's only his third season. You gotta keep that level for ten seasons straight before you qualify for that title."

Later that afternoon, a Times reporter got Zhao Dong on the phone for a response.

"Zhao, Jordan said you need to perform at this level for at least ten seasons to be called the 'God of Efficiency.' What do you think of that nickname?"

Zhao chuckled. "Well, yeah. Three seasons isn't enough. I know that. It's not the full picture of my career. I'm not there yet. Not even close."

That evening, Zhao Dong dropped by the hotel to check in on Mei Yanfang.

Coincidentally, Chenglong had just arrived from Los Angeles, and Mei's agent Wang Minhui was also present, along with Mr. Tang—Zhang Guorong's manager.

Zhao Dong gave Wang Minhui a curious glance. Rumors had once linked her with Nicholas Tse while he was still dating Faye Wong.

"Brother Zhao, thank you so much for yesterday," Mei Yanfang and Zhang Guorong said warmly the moment Zhao Dong walked in.

He smiled. "No need for thanks. I get regular checkups myself, and you two were free, so I arranged it. Sister Mei, you're looking great. That mental toughness really shows—you're worthy of your status in Hong Kong's music scene."

Mei Yanfang had clearly bounced back from the gloom of the previous day. She laughed cheerfully, "The doctor said it's treatable. I'll be fine."

Zhao Dong nodded but didn't sugarcoat it. "Still, don't take it lightly. Some conditions progress fast. I suggest you stop working for at least two or three years and focus on getting treated."

Mei hesitated. "But I've already scheduled a concert for next year. I can't let my fans down..."

Zhao Dong leaned forward. "Do you want to sing for just a year or two? Or do you want to keep singing into your seventies? The choice is obvious."

That gave her pause.

He continued seriously, "Being careless with your health can cost you your life. Don't pull a Guan Yu and lose the whole city over a small slip-up."

Chenglong chimed in immediately, "He's right, Ah Mei. Listen to Brother Zhao. Take the break, get healthy, and you'll be able to perform for decades."

Zhang Guorong and Wang Minhui added their support as well. Surrounded by their concern, Mei Yanfang could only nod quietly in agreement.

Zhao Dong gave a small smile. He had done what he could.

Then he turned to Zhang Guorong. "Brother Rong, tomorrow morning, Pingguo Daily will have a new owner."

Everyone froze.

"What?!" Zhang Guorong and the others stared at him, shocked.

Zhao Dong didn't say more. "You heard what I said, but don't repeat it. Let it go in one ear and out the other, okay?"

They all nodded solemnly.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Zhao Dong stood up to leave.

---

"Did Brother Zhao really buy Pingguo Daily?" someone whispered after he left.

"They were about to go public anyway. Maybe he pressured the owner into selling."

"With Storm Fund's power, maybe they really forced the deal through..."

The room buzzed with quiet conversation until Zhang Guorong spoke up, turning to Mei.

"Ah Mei, stay in New York and get treated properly. Like Brother Zhao said, a few years of rest now means you'll sing for decades."

Chenglong nodded. "Brother Zhao even bought a newspaper just for Brother Rong. That's real loyalty. You shouldn't let him down."

Mei Yanfang looked down, her thoughts heavy.

"Sister Mei, just listen to everyone this time," Wang Minhui persuaded gently. "I'll arrange a place for you to stay in New York right away. Brother Zhao Dong is a generous guy—he's already lined up the best medical experts in the U.S. for you. You really can't miss this opportunity. Or, why not bring Sister Aifang along too? Let both of you get treated together."

"Yes, yes! Just tell Brother Zhao Dong, whether the favor's for one or two people, it's still a favor," Chenglong added, nodding urgently.

When they mentioned her sister, Mei Yanfang finally gave in. Her eyes softened, and she nodded in agreement.

That evening, the remaining two second-round playoff games were set to tip off: Bulls vs. Heat at 8:00 PM and Lakers vs. Trail Blazers at 8:30 PM.

By 10:30 PM, the Bulls had taken down the Heat, and the Lakers were cruising with a 15-point lead over the Trail Blazers—victory was practically in the bag.

"Harbor City's market just opened," Zhao Dong said calmly, checking the time.

"Ah?" Lindsay blinked, momentarily confused—she had almost forgotten about that small but important detail.

Meanwhile, back in China, Fatty Li was sitting alone in his office. The air conditioner was blasting, but sweat was still pouring down his face. The market hadn't opened yet, and Storm Fund hadn't even executed any trades for him.

Half an hour later, he received a message: Storm Fund had initiated his short position.

"Woah…"

Li stared at the monitor like a hawk. Every fluctuation in the Hang Seng Index made his heart skip a beat. He didn't even dare blink, his breath heavy, hands and feet slick with sweat.

Luckily, the market had opened lower, and the index was sliding just like Storm Fund predicted. After all, the stock market had been way overheated in recent months—it was bound to correct eventually.

Storm Fund also hinted that the city government was set to release some bad news today, potentially pushing the market even lower. Taking their advice, Li used a 70% position—he was planning to cash in big.

"It's down a hundred points already!"

That 1% drop meant huge profits with his setup: 50x leverage, a 500 million HKD margin, and a 70% position—he was controlling more than 17 billion HKD in value. In just thirty minutes, he had pocketed nearly 200 million.

"Damn... I should've gone all-in," he muttered, a trace of greed flashing across his face.

But at 11:30 AM, rumors began swirling in the financial industry—Storm Fund was allegedly bullish on the Hong Kong market again and was about to inject another 100 billion HKD.

The rumor had no clear source, but the market reacted instantly. A massive wave of buying surged in, flipping the market on its head. The Hang Seng Index stopped falling, then started climbing sharply.

"…"

Li's face went pale. Sweat streamed down his temples as his heart thudded like a drum. His once-beautiful profits were evaporating fast. Five minutes later, he was no longer in the green—he was in the red.

With his leverage, if the index rose by just 3%—about 300 points—his entire margin would vanish, triggering a margin call.

Soon enough, the index rose 80 points above his position. Li had already lost tens of millions, and the losses kept snowballing.

Panicked, he reached for the phone to call Storm Fund and close his position, but just as he picked up the receiver, the market reversed course.

The index pulled back by 30 points, easing his losses. His panic turned into cautious hope.

"Drop… drop, just drop…" he muttered to himself, eyes glued to the screen.

The Hang Seng Index began to consolidate, calming his nerves. Quickly, he dialed Storm Fund to check the situation.

"Mr. Li, don't worry," came the reply. "The bad news has been delayed due to some unexpected circumstances, but we'll announce it soon. Just hang in there and get ready to count your profits."

"Really? That's… that's great!" Li said, breathing a sigh of relief.

He turned on the TV, waiting for the Hong Kong government to drop the news bomb.

But before that could happen, he noticed something strange on the screen—the market was rising again.

A massive influx of funds pushed the Hang Seng Index up by 60 points, and more capital kept flooding in. The index shot up in a spectacular rally.

"…!"

Li was frozen. His heart rate was hitting 200.

Ding ding ding—the phone rang again.

"Mr. Li, your margin is insufficient. Please replenish immediately or we will have to liquidate your position."

"…!"

He was in total shock. Where the hell was he going to get more money now?

"It's over…"

He stared in disbelief as the index surged higher and higher.

Ding ding ding—the phone rang once more.

Hands trembling, Li reached for the receiver, fumbling several times before grabbing it.

"Mr. Li, due to insufficient margin and to prevent further loss, we've closed your position…"

Clatter. The phone dropped from his hands and bounced on the table.

His body slumped into the chair like a deflated balloon.

The phone line was still live. "…A friendly reminder: please repay the loan from Hengsheng Company as soon as possible. We've already informed them of your liquidation. This is part of our duty."

"Five hundred million… how the hell am I gonna explain this to Zhu Lian…"

"You damn capitalists… you killed me…"

Fatty Li slowly got to his feet, trembling all over. He turned toward the window. The sun outside was bright, almost too bright—blinding.

Bang!

Thirty seconds later, a man fell from the sky, crashing onto a Mercedes-Benz parked below. The car exploded on impact.

---

Meanwhile, in New York...

Zhao Dong and Lindsay were already sound asleep. Lindsay's phone, resting on the nightstand, lit up briefly with a notification before going dark again.

At a hotel downtown, Zhang Guorong was also sleeping when his phone suddenly rang. He woke up groggily and saw it was a call from his agent, Mr. Tang.

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door.

He put down the phone and walked over to open it—standing there was Mr. Tang himself.

"What's going on? It's the middle of the night," Zhang asked, puzzled.

"Arong, good news!" Mr. Tang's face was glowing with excitement. He didn't just look happy—he looked euphoric.

"I just got word—Pingguo's boss, Li… he jumped off a building. He's dead."

"What?!"

Zhang Guorong nearly bit his tongue.

"Wait, seriously? He really committed suicide?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Mr. Tang's expression changed in an instant as he hurriedly said, "That should be the case. He jumped from his office on the 36th floor. No one else was there, just him."

Zhang Guorong murmured softly, "Could it be related to Zhao Dong?"

Mr. Tang quickly shook his head. "It shouldn't be. This looks like suicide. Arong, don't overthink it—it's better for you this way. I just don't know if Zhao Dong's proposal to acquire Pingguo will still go through. Even though the boss jumped, the paper's still running."

"Zhao Dong said we'll know tomorrow," Zhang Guorong replied, his tone calm but thoughtful. "Let's wait for news."

---

At 7 a.m. on the 19th, Lindsay woke up to a new message from the Hongcheng branch. She turned to Zhao Dong and said, "Honey, it's over. That guy jumped. Suicide."

Zhao Dong, while slipping on a shirt, cracked a cold smile. "Good. Scum like that doesn't deserve to breathe. Now it's clean."

Lindsay, standing nearby, frowned. "You sure it's over? You promised him a loan from Zhulian, didn't you? That's five hundred million gone now. Zhulian won't let his family off the hook that easy."

Zhao Dong's expression turned icy. "They're a family. That means sharing both good times and consequences."

Lindsay couldn't help but smile, still unsure why her husband hated someone he had never even met.

Back in Hong Kong, after a day of investigation, the police issued a formal statement. Li had borrowed massive funds to gamble on futures. After a devastating liquidation, he was drowning in debt. Suicide followed.

The news traveled fast, reaching New York in no time.

Zhang Guorong, Mei Yanfang, Chenglong, and others were shocked when they heard.

"Storm Fund?" Chenglong whispered.

Everyone looked at each other, reading between the lines.

An hour later, another message arrived—Hengsheng International had announced it would take over all of Li's assets.

"Hengsheng?" Chenglong raised an eyebrow. Everyone exchanged glances again. In their circle, who didn't know Hengsheng's shadowy connections?

"Five hundred million Hong Kong dollars… The Li family's finished," Chenglong muttered, shaking his head.

---

Later that night at Madison Square Garden, the Knicks hosted the Sixers.

Zhao Dong showed up with full energy. On the court, he went berserk—shooting 72% from the field and dropping 51 points. The Sixers' duo only managed 63 combined. Final score: 109–101. Knicks grabbed their second straight dub.

Meanwhile, over in Phoenix, the Spurs took care of the Suns with back-to-back wins too.

The next day, the 20th, the Knicks touched down in Philly by noon.

But in New York, at a hotel, Zhang Guorong received jaw-dropping news.

Three armed men stormed Li's mourning hall. Seven members of the Li family—including kids fresh back from the UK and US—were gunned down on the spot. Blood soaked the mourning hall.

In Hong Kong, at the Storm Fund's local branch, Manager Gao Ziang sat with a guest.

"Mr. Zheng, our president said the operation was clean. Your New York branch will get the green light to participate in our next investment round," Gao said.

"That's fantastic. Hengsheng's been hoping to build stronger ties with Storm Fund," Zheng replied enthusiastically.

Gao leaned forward slightly, his tone sharp. "But let me remind you, Mr. Zheng, Storm only works with clean capital. We don't launder money for anyone."

"Understood, completely understood."

"Oh, and those assets you acquired? They're worthless. We want 100 million in cash."

"100 million?" Zheng hesitated, then nodded quickly. "Alright, I'll sell you the mortgage contract now."

At 8 p.m. in Philly, Zhao Dong's phone buzzed. It was Lindsay.

"Bao Bao got everything," she said. "All of Li's assets. Legally transferred."

"Good," Zhao Dong nodded. "Let's move forward with the listing. We need our own media arm in Hong Kong. And not just that—we're gonna buy out all the paparazzi tabloids. Absorb them. Control the voice of the city, and later, the voice of the whole damn world. We start with print, go digital, expand into china, then go global."

Lindsay chuckled. "Is this the self-media platform idea you were talking about before?"

"Exactly," Zhao Dong smiled. "In twenty years, this industry will be massive—trillions big. We can't rely on some bootleg platforms. We build our own. And when the time's right, we acquire others and consolidate everything."

He ended the call and immediately rang Zhang Guorong.

"Brother Dong?" Zhang Guorong's tone was respectful, even reverent.

Zhao Dong laughed. "Brother Rong, stay out there a few more days. When you're back in Hong Kong, you won't have to worry about paparazzi stalking you. No more sleazy gossip rags either."

"Really?" Zhang Guorong let out a long sigh, relief washing over him. "Thank you so much, Brother Dong."

"But I'll need a favor in return," Zhao Dong added. "The media still needs info. If you're releasing a new movie or album, or just wanna share something personal, let Pingguo know. Actually, scratch that—it's getting a new name soon."

"Deal! Haha, that's no problem at all!" Zhang Guorong laughed, genuinely happy. "Finally, I can live in peace."

Mei Yanfang, sitting beside him, teased, "Hey Arong, what's got you so happy? Don't keep it all to yourself."

Zhang Guorong grinned. "It's Brother Dong again. Taking care of everything."

Mei Yanfang nodded, a soft smile on her lips. "We owe him big. Sister's coming tomorrow. Brother Dong already made arrangements. She's going straight to the hospital. Me too. He's thought of everything. I don't even know how we'll ever repay him."

Zhang Guorong sighed. "Me even more. I don't know how much he spent on the Pingguo deal, but it must've been a fortune. I can't pay him back even if I worked a lifetime."

"We came to the States and met a true guardian angel," Mei Yanfang said warmly.

"So take care of yourself here. Get proper treatment. Opportunities like this—meeting someone like Brother Dong—they don't come twice."

"I hear you." Zhang Guorong smiled.

"I'll listen to you," Mei Yanfang replied gently.

---

That night, both the Lakers and Bulls grabbed wins, extending their series to two straight victories.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Check my Pâtreon for (40) advanced chapters

Pâtreon .com/Fanficlord03

Change (â) to (a)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Discord Link Here:

https://discord.gg/MntqcdpRZ9