In response to the massive brawl and wave of injuries, the NFL's top brass convened an emergency meeting overnight.
Some executives demanded severe punishment for Zhao Dong. Their argument was simple: he had led a squad of personal bodyguards onto the field, assaulted opposing players in front of a national audience, and left multiple Giants seriously injured. A few even went so far as to suggest pressing criminal charges.
But those voices were quickly drowned out.
Most of the league's decision-makers knew better. In a league deeply intertwined with Wall Street, what did a Wall Street titan like Zhao Dong represent? Power, influence, and money—on a level they couldn't fight.
It was even whispered that many NFL owners were tied to Mrs. Lindsay's financial empire. Without her support, how else could the Jets have gutted and rebuilt their roster in a single season?
Finally, Commissioner Roger Goodell brought the room to order.
"I've decided the NFL will stage a regular-season game in China next year to expand our global reach," he declared. "The NBA has thrived in China thanks to the Raptors' influence. Even if you drop the Raptors into our league, their impact overseas wouldn't shrink. This is an opportunity we can't waste.
"And before that, I won't risk damaging our partnership with Zhao Dong. Regarding this fight, we'll downplay it and move forward. I don't want to single out players."
---
The next morning, the NFL announced its official penalties.
Giants wide receiver No. 12 was suspended two games and fined $100,000.
Both the Giants and the Jets were fined $1 million each.
The Jets were docked an additional $200,000 for exceeding the league's limit on team security. The office warned: for every game they surpassed the quota, another $200,000 fine would follow.
"Damn it," Zhao Dong cursed as he read the press release. "They're bleeding me dry. At this rate, I'll be out a few million in fines by season's end."
At 10 a.m., the Giants held their own press conference. They revealed that both their No. 12 receiver and Black Panther had suffered severe internal bleeding. Though out of danger, both would remain hospitalized for observation.
They also confirmed the arrests of Black Panther and White Panther by local police.
What struck everyone as odd was the silence that followed. No major media outlet openly questioned Zhao Dong's role in the Panthers' injuries. A few small tabloids tried, but those stories disappeared almost immediately.
Just like when Zhao Dong had hospitalized Vinis earlier in the year, the mainstream press acted blind.
Instead, headlines across the country fixated on the arrests of the Panthers and the growing scandal of NFL players being linked to separatist activity.
Behind the scenes, Lindsay's team kept a tight grip on the narrative, steering public opinion away from Zhao Dong.
---
The very next day, Lindsay made her move.
Tianlong Investment Bank announced from its New York office that its global assets under management had hit $10 trillion, officially cementing its place among the world's top four investment banks.
On the same day, Lindsay published an article in The Wall Street Journal, openly declaring her intention to lead Tianlong Investment Bank and Storm Fund deeper into the U.S. stock market.
Those two headlines instantly became the world's biggest stories. Within hours, the NFL fight was forgotten.
---
That evening, Zhao Dong enjoyed dinner with his wife and son, then took them for a walk through the quiet streets of New York.
The Jets' first month of games had wrapped up, and a bye week was coming. With no action for two weeks, he finally had some breathing room.
Life in the NFL, Zhao Dong decided, was far more comfortable than his old NBA grind. The schedule was lighter, the downtime was sweeter, and best of all—he could unleash on opponents without too much restraint, as long as nobody actually died.
---
That night, his system displayed his monthly evaluation. The upgrades were staggering:
Skill Levels
Tactical Awareness — 83
Catching — 85
Long Passing — 46
Intermediate Passing — 85
Short Passing — 90
Evasion — 75
Field Vision — 90
Ball Protection — 90
Ball Carrying — 90
Power Rushing — 73
Passing Ability — 80
Play Fakes — 75
Route Running — 82
Run Defense Interception — 85
Pass Defense Interception — 85
Hit Power — 90
Return Ability — 90
Six of his abilities had already broken into the elite level of 90.
Position Ratings
Linebacker (Defense) — 85
Tight End (Offense) — 78
Running Back (Offense) — 76
Returner (Special Teams) — 80
Wide Receiver (Offense) — 80
In the last game alone, his Savage Talent skill had racked up six knockdowns, bringing his career total to 142.
After two months—one of preseason, one of regular season—Zhao Dong fully understood the NFL's truth: raw physical talent ruled everything.
Aside from the quarterback position, which demanded precision passing, most other roles leaned far more on athleticism than on skill refinement. Compared to basketball or even soccer, football demanded less artistry and more brute force.
Of course, tactics still mattered. Without brains, even the most gifted athlete could drown in a playbook.
But for someone like Zhao Dong—built like a tank and quick to adapt—the NFL was the perfect playground. His body alone was enough to push him into stardom at breakneck speed.
"Husband, the euro has been getting stronger these past two years," Lindsay said, her tone calm but serious. "At the latest OPEC meeting, some voices even proposed switching oil trade to the euro instead of the dollar."
Zhao Dong froze for a moment. So it's starting already?
In his past life, the 2008 financial crisis was triggered exactly by this—OPEC's attempt to replace the dollar with the euro, shaking the foundation of dollar dominance. Wall Street's "geniuses" had responded by flooding Europe with toxic subprime mortgage derivatives, financial time bombs disguised as profit. In the end, it was Europe that took the bullet.
"Eve, any movement on Wall Street yet?" he asked thoughtfully.
"Not yet," Lindsay replied, shaking her head.
"Stay sharp," Zhao Dong reminded her. "We're not on the same side as them."
"I understand," she said with a nod.
Zhao Dong wasn't overly worried. The coming storm wasn't aimed at China, and Tianlong Investment Bank had avoided sinking money into U.S. real estate. Their exposure would be limited.
What bothered him more was remembering how, in his previous life, the country had bought into America's toxic debt under the guise of "helping" during the crisis—throwing away hundreds of billions of dollars with nothing to show for it.
Not this time, he thought.
"Saving America is saving China? What a joke. We should sit back and watch the tigers fight. The real path is seizing the chance to grow stronger."
He muttered it under his breath.
"Husband, what did you just say?" Lindsay asked, puzzled.
"Oh—nothing." Zhao Dong quickly covered. "I was just saying the boys should be in kindergarten next year."
"Ah…" Lindsay's face softened into a smile as she glanced at their four sons tumbling around the room. "I'm already making preparations. After our trip back to China next year, they'll be ready to start school."
---
Time flew, and before long October arrived. NBA preseason tipped off, even as Zhao Dong's NFL season pressed forward.
That week, Yao called from Beijing. "I've set up a trip with Dazhi, Daba, and Hu Weidong. We'll fly straight into New York. Let's meet up."
On the 13th, Zhao Dong personally picked up the group and their families at JFK Airport. He arranged suites for them at the Hilton, then led the whole party to Manhattan's Chinatown.
This particular Chinatown, known as Little Fuzhou, was packed with Fujianese immigrants. Zhao Dong's arrival with China's basketball legends caused an instant stir, drawing crowds of Chinese-Americans eager to catch a glimpse.
Inside a Hui cuisine restaurant, Zhao Dong reserved several big tables. The moment everyone sat down, the conversation flowed.
"Brother Dong, I admire you so much," Dazhi said with genuine respect. "You switched to the NFL and you're still crushing it."
"Zhao Dong, tell us," Hu Weidong leaned forward curiously, "what's it really like playing in the NFL? Last I read, you nearly killed a guy on the field?"
Zhao Dong sighed. "The NFL and NBA might both be part of the 'Big Four' U.S. leagues, but the cultures are worlds apart.
"The NBA, under Stern, scrubbed away most of the violence and built itself into a global brand. The NFL hasn't changed in over a century. The violence here makes the NBA look like a chess club. Add in the racial discrimination—open, unapologetic—and that's the league I walked into.
"Let me put it this way: even with my wealth and social status, I still face discrimination here."
Daba frowned. "What exactly do they discriminate against you for?"
Zhao Dong's lips curled into a cold sneer. "Skin color. Original sin in this country."
The table went silent. No one dared follow up.
Zhao Dong, unwilling to linger on the subject, pivoted. "Anyway, Yao, what's your plan this season?"
Yao eyes lit up. "Brother Dong, now that you're out of the NBA, my goal is clear—championship."
"The Lakers are still stacked, but you've got a real shot," Zhao Dong replied with a grin.
Yao nodded eagerly. "They won't be as dominant this year. Robinson's aging, O'Neal's past his peak. Only Kobe is still climbing. That's their core."
"Then the edge is yours," Zhao Dong said. "You, Duncan, and Marbury are all still young. Keep that trio intact, and you might not topple the Lakers outright, but you can grind them down.
"If the Lakers kept last year's roster together, they paid a heavy price. If they don't win it all this season, the OK duo could be dismantled for good."
Turning to Hu Weidong, Zhao Dong asked, "Brother Hu, this is your contract year, right? Thinking of re-signing, or heading home?"
Hu Weidong chuckled. "Honestly, I feel like I've already done my part here. I'm older now. After this season, I'll go back to China, finish out a couple more years there."
Zhao Dong nodded approvingly. "Makes sense. Even with a dip in form, you're still elite back home."
---
By mid-October, the Jets had played three more games, winning two and dropping one. Their overall record stood at 6–1, best in the AFC East and top of the entire conference.
It was during this hot streak that Zhao Dong got the news: Lawrence Taylor had been sentenced. The Hall of Fame linebacker—once the face of New York football—was handed sixteen years in prison.
The ruling rocked New York.
Media outlets filled column inches with harsh criticism of athletes' off-field behavior, targeting every major sport. No league escaped.
Ironically, this led some outlets to praise the Knicks of Zhao Dong's era—calling them "true New York gentlemen." Others extended that praise to the current Jets under Zhao Dong's leadership.
Of course, nobody dared say aloud how carefully orchestrated that praise might be. But on the surface, the narrative stuck.
"See? My hard work is paying off," Zhao Dong told his Jets teammates with a wide grin as they gathered at the training facility. "From now on, the Jets are going to be known as gentlemen. Starting next season, I'll sponsor suits for everyone. Tailored. Classy. You'll all look like proper gentlemen off the field."
The locker room erupted in laughter and cheers.
For Zhao Dong, this wasn't just image—it was legacy.
---
End of Chapter
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