Yang Chang’an walked briskly, and before long arrived at the pavilion where he usually met Fifth Uncle.
Passing through the crowd, he quickly reached the familiar pavilion.
He had only come with the intention of trying his luck—after all, it was already getting late—but when he arrived, a handsome white-haired young man in blue robes was already waiting there.
Who else could it be but Fifth Uncle?
Fifth Uncle had noticed him approaching long ago.
Seeing Yang Chang’an jogging over, the corners of his lips immediately curled into a warm smile as he deliberately teased him in a drawn-out tone: “Oh?
So you finally decided to come back?
I thought you’d already forgotten this Fifth Uncle of yours completely.” Hearing this, Yang Chang’an hurried over to the stone table and waved his hands seriously, smiling ingratiatingly as he said: “How could I, Fifth Uncle!
Even if I forgot everyone else, there’s no way I’d forget you!
I just really couldn’t get away this past month.
The moment I had free time, I came straight to see you.” Afraid Fifth Uncle still wouldn’t believe him, Yang Chang’an quickly patted his chest and continued: “Look, I didn’t just come to visit—I even brought you good stuff.” As soon as he finished speaking, Yang Chang’an began pulling items out of his storage soul tool one after another.
They were all local snacks and specialties he had deliberately picked up while passing through towns along the journey—dried fruits, candied preserves, and several crispy pastries.
Before long, the stone table was piled full.
Fifth Uncle’s eyes instantly lit up.
Grinning broadly and revealing a neat row of white teeth, he grabbed several pastries and stuffed them into his mouth.
“You brat still has some conscience after all.
I didn’t spoil you for nothing.” He praised him while chewing indistinctly.
With Fifth Uncle’s status and position, what delicacies in Spirit City had he not eaten before?
These little snacks meant nothing to him.
But when the person giving them was different, the meaning naturally became different too.
Yang Chang’an sat across from him quietly, watching Fifth Uncle eat with obvious satisfaction, and he found himself smiling as well.
Thinking about it, he still couldn’t figure out exactly how old Fifth Uncle really was.
He only knew that although Fifth Uncle looked younger than his grandfather Yang Wushuang, his true age was definitely much greater.
By that estimate, Fifth Uncle had to be at least over eighty years old.
Yet the man before him only had white hair—his face still looked as youthful as a teenager’s, and his mentality was even younger.
He loved games, loved snacks, loved joking around, and had none of the rigidness of an old man.
In all of Spirit City, there was probably not a second old man with such a good mentality.
After Fifth Uncle had eaten his fill, he picked up the tea beside him and took two sips, patted his stomach, and leaned back against the stone bench with a satisfied expression.
Then his gaze became serious again as he looked directly at Yang Chang’an.
“Alright, we’ve eaten and drunk enough.
Now it’s time to talk business.” Yang Chang’an immediately straightened his posture, knowing Fifth Uncle was finally getting to the important part.
Fifth Uncle stared at him and slowly spoke, his voice much steadier now: “Innate Level 9 Spirit Power.
Your talent is even stronger than I originally expected.” “I told you before: as long as your talent was good enough, I’d fight to obtain a tremendous opportunity for you.” “Now, it’s time to fulfill that promise.” As soon as those words came out, Yang Chang’an instantly perked up.
His back straightened, and his eyes lit up.
He had remembered those words the whole time!
Back then, Fifth Uncle had told him that as long as his talent wasn’t bad, he would recommend him for a great opportunity.
At the time, he hadn’t even awakened his Martial Soul yet.
But now, not only had he awakened with innate Level 9 Spirit Power, his cultivation was already close to Level 12.
Seeing the anticipation written all over his face, Fifth Uncle slightly raised the corner of his lips and asked directly: “Now that your Yang family has officially joined the Spirit Hall, you should’ve heard of the ‘Zihua Special Training Camp,’ right?” Yang Chang’an’s pupils shrank slightly, and his expression immediately turned serious as he nodded without hesitation.
How could he possibly not know about the Zihua Special Training Camp?
That was the Spirit Hall’s core institution dedicated to cultivating the younger generation—the cradle of Spirit Hall geniuses.
Anyone who could enter the Zihua Special Training Camp was a genius chosen from tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands.
Innate Level 7 Spirit Power was merely the minimum threshold, and when actual selection came around, the standards would only become harsher.
Anyone who graduated from it would inevitably become a future powerhouse.
Moreover, the very best among them would be awarded a Purple Record Medal.
Within the Spirit Hall, the status of that medal was even higher than that of a Black-Robed Bishop.
Yang Chang’an remembered clearly that in the original story, when people spoke of Spirit Hall’s so-called “Golden Generation” of geniuses, the most eye-catching symbol they possessed was precisely that Purple Record Medal.
In other words, those three were the strongest representatives produced by the Zihua Special Training Camp.
At that thought, Yang Chang’an already had a faint guess in his heart.
Seeing him nod, Fifth Uncle stopped beating around the bush and directly asked: “So, do you want to go in?” Yang Chang’an froze for a moment, his brows instinctively knitting together.
Honestly, he didn’t quite understand what Fifth Uncle meant.
With his innate Level 9 Spirit Power talent, as long as his cultivation reached the required level, entering the Zihua Special Training Camp wouldn’t be difficult at all.
There was no need for Fifth Uncle to personally recommend him.
More importantly—if he remembered correctly, the minimum requirement for entering the Zihua Special Training Camp was at least the Grand Soul Master level, wasn’t it?
The moment Fifth Uncle saw the “are you kidding me?” expression on Yang Chang’an’s face, he lightly coughed and hurriedly explained: “Ahem… don’t misunderstand.
I’m not talking about joining that training camp.” He paused, lowered his voice, and spoke mysteriously: “The Worship Hall has recently been planning to gather a group of young people for special training, then send them there to… interact with them.
Yes, interact a little.” Yang Chang’an was stunned at first, then his pupils suddenly widened.
A moment later, he was so shocked he nearly jumped off the stone bench.
So when you asked if I wanted to “go in,” you meant fight my way in?!
Everyone in Spirit City knew that the Zihua Training Camp was Pope Bibi Dong’s private territory.
Going there to challenge them was basically asking that crazy woman to put a target on your back.
Would life even be livable afterward?
But shock aside, Yang Chang’an’s heart sank heavily.
He had always thought Fifth Uncle was, at most, some hidden elder from Spirit Hall’s Elder Hall—someone with considerable status, but not truly at the top.
But hearing these words now— The Worship Hall?
If he weren’t someone from the Worship Hall, there was no way he could know this kind of internal information, let alone recommend Yang Chang’an for a youth team personally organized by the Worship Hall.
Fifth Uncle definitely wasn’t some ordinary elder.
He was from the Worship Hall!
Yang Chang’an’s heart pounded wildly as he unconsciously examined Fifth Uncle more carefully.
Could Fifth Uncle be an ordinary elder under the Worship Hall, or perhaps… a Worshiper himself?
Thinking of this, Yang Chang’an carefully compared him against the figures from the original novel.
In the later stages of Spirit Hall, too many Title Douluo had appeared, many only briefly.
The earlier ones didn’t match him either.
As for the Worshipers?
The original story mentioned Seven Great Worship, but only four were ever named: the First Worship Qian Daoliu, the Second Worship Golden Crocodile Douluo, the Sixth Worship Fifteen Ton Douluo, and the Seventh Worship Falling Devil Douluo.
The other three had never been named.
Yet Fifth Uncle’s appearance, temperament, Martial Soul, and speaking style matched none of those four.
So who exactly was Fifth Uncle?
Was he one of the remaining unnamed Worshipers?
Or someone else entirely?
Fifth Uncle observed every change in his expression—from shock, to confusion, to alarm, and finally to the look of an intensely curious child—and couldn’t help finding it amusing.
The corners of his lips curved into a mysterious smile as he deliberately asked in a teasing tone: “So?
Want to give it a try?
It’ll be very exciting.” Yang Chang’an took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the storm in his heart.
He sat there silently pondering for quite a while before finally shaking his head slowly.
This wasn’t something a child like him could casually decide on.
The Worship Hall and Pope Bibi Dong had never been on the same side.
The two factions had always been secretly competing against each other.
If he agreed to Fifth Uncle’s proposal without discussion—joining the Worship Hall’s team and going to challenge the Zihua Special Training Camp—it would mean openly placing himself on Bibi Dong’s opposing side.
And when that time came, it wouldn’t just be him.
Yang Wushuang, and even the entire Yang and Niu families, would suffer along with him.
The risk was simply too great.
Seeing Yang Chang’an shake his head in refusal, Fifth Uncle wasn’t surprised at all.
He merely shrugged indifferently and reminded him in a relaxed tone: “I’m not asking you to agree right now.
You can go back and discuss it properly with your grandfather.
Let the whole family decide together.” He paused, his gaze becoming serious again as he emphasized each word carefully: “Remember this: for you, and for the entire Yang family, this opportunity brings far more benefits than disadvantages.
Don’t miss it lightly.” Yang Chang’an didn’t reply immediately.
He simply sat there on the stone bench with his head lowered, remaining silent.