"Hush!" Fatty Lin glanced at Yang Yi, then said to Han Zhong, "It's fine, let Brother Yi calm down for a bit. You go steep some tea."

A moment later, Han Zhong returned with the tea, placing it before Yang Yi and saying, "Young Master, please have some tea."

Yang Yi, still with his eyes gently closed, spoke, "Han Zhong, Fatty, I suspect there are still things you haven't told me, aren't there?"

"Brother Yi!"

"Young Master!"

Fatty Lin's face flushed with emotion, and Han Zhong was the same.

Yang Yi opened his eyes and continued, "I believe that since my grandfather chose me as his heir, he must have left certain things for me. You might as well tell me now, while I still have some patience."

"Good, I'll tell you," Han Zhong immediately replied with pleasure.

It turned out the Black God Gang wasn't as overwhelmingly powerful as legend suggested, yet it was by no means weak. With just over three thousand members, they managed assassination, espionage, intelligence, professional killers, seasoned triad veterans, and ordinary gang members. Although the numbers were modest, they couldn't be underestimated, as every single member was an elite among the elite; any one of them could take on thirty men, and some could even handle a hundred without breaking a sweat.

Then there were the Ten Military Generals, ranked from first to tenth by Long at the start. These ten were masters among masters. As for their true strength, Han Zhong didn't know; within the entire Black God Gang, perhaps only Old Yang himself and the Ten Military Generals knew the truth.

Han Zhong served as the butler of the Black God Gang, a veteran figure who had accompanied the gang's growth from its inception, holding an indispensable connection with Old Yang.

"Is that all?" Yang Yi narrowed his eyes. At this moment, he bore little resemblance to a ruffian, looking more like a monarch.

"Yes, but there is one more matter, something the Old Gang Leader always instructed!" As he spoke, Han Zhong visibly transformed; a cold aura emanated from him, and a hint of iciness flickered in his eyes.

"Most interesting," Yang Yi kept his eyes narrowed, watching Han Zhong. From the start, he hadn't expected this seemingly elderly and composed man to be so formidable. "What is it? Tell me."

"Young Master, I, Han Zhong, do not fear offending you by saying this: although our Black God Gang is small in number, our strength cannot be taken lightly. With your current standing, you are fundamentally unqualified to sit in the position of Black God Gang Leader," Han Zhong stated coldly, looking directly at Yang Yi.

Yang Yi did not become angry nor did he speak; he simply kept his eyes narrowed, staring at Han Zhong, and said faintly, "A matter of qualification?"

"I see the Young Master seems unconvinced of this old servant. Since that is the case, the Young Master is welcome to try. As long as the Young Master can pass the trials of the Ten Military Generals and gain their recognition, then naturally, we will have no objections," Han Zhong proposed.

Yang Yi inwardly sneered. The provocation seemed entirely effective on him. Han Zhong's initial disdain was clearly designed to lead up to this very statement—to push him to meet the so-called Ten Military Generals. If he succeeded, he would undoubtedly become the Gang Leader. His previous assumptions now seemed incredibly naive.

"What if I can't pass?"

"Then death awaits the Young Master, because for anyone who challenges the Ten Military Generals, success means survival, and failure means death," Han Zhong stated with utter seriousness.

"Hmph!" Yang Yi let out a light scoff. He was acutely aware of his current strength; being only at the Third Layer, he probably wasn't even a match for Han Zhong standing before him. It seemed his grandfather had planned this all along: to make him the heir necessitated a complete transfusion of blood, ensuring that to occupy such a high position, he must possess formidable power. He couldn't tell if his inner feeling was a cold sneer or disappointment.

"One month. Tell the Ten Military Generals to wait for me in a month," Yang Yi said, then stood up and walked out.

Fatty Lin watched Yang Yi's retreating figure, then said to Han Zhong, "Just do as Brother Yi says. Grandfather had the same intentions. I'll go keep an eye on him."

"En," Han Zhong acknowledged. After watching Fatty leave, he suddenly murmured to himself, "Master, you truly didn't pick the wrong man back then. He has placed the Black God Gang and all your hopes on his shoulders. Only now do I begin to truly grasp this matter."

Ever since Yang Yi left what was called the Li Family residence, his expression had been ashen. He knew he desperately needed strength now, and once he possessed that strength, he could realize his ambitions—ambitions that didn't just concern himself, but also the grandfather who raised him, and the mysterious Black God Gang.

"Fatty, let's go back to Grandfather's place," Yang Yi suddenly turned and asked Fatty Lin.

"Brother Yi, no need. I'll take you to see Grandfather," Fatty Lin replied, seemingly knowing exactly what Yang Yi intended to do.

"It seems Grandfather anticipated even this," Yang Yi shook his head with resignation.

Fatty Lin remained silent, walking ahead and leading Yang Yi in another direction.

On the outskirts of City A, Fatty Lin and Yang Yi took a car there. After getting out, they walked for about ten minutes, arriving at a rather desolate area, somewhat sparse in population. Near a small hill stood a thatched hut, looking as if no one had lived there for ages, its appearance ragged and broken.

"Grandfather! I brought Brother Yi!" Fatty Lin suddenly shouted, stopping in his tracks.

Yang Yi made no sound, standing fixedly in place.

At that moment, an old man emerged from behind the hut—undoubtedly Old Yang. In truth, his current feelings were far from simple. First, reaching this stage had not been easy. Second, Old Yang knew that Yang Yi following Fatty here meant he had made a choice, but it also signified he could never turn back. After all, once he went out to defeat the Ten Military Generals, he would no longer be the person he once was.

"Yi'er..." Old Yang called out with doting affection.

"Don't be so familiar, old man. You haven't apologized to me yet for deceiving me for eighteen years," Yang Yi said with a cold sneer, his lips curved upwards, though his own heart churned with complicated emotions.

"Heh heh, alright, Yi'er wants an apology. Fine. If you can master the remaining martial arts from me and defeat the Ten Military Generals, I will even bow down to you," Old Yang said with a sudden, strange chuckle.

"Old man, you said it yourself. Don't regret it when the time comes!" Yang Yi laughed now too—but what was the source of that laughter?

"Fatty, you come too. Although your potential and comprehension aren't as strong as Yi'er's, learn what you can," Old Yang said lightly.

"Yes, Grandfather!" Fatty Lin smiled calmly. He knew that from the moment the old man adopted him, his destiny was sealed; he was destined to be Yang Yi's foremost fierce general.

"Come here, I'll take you to a place." Old Yang finished speaking and gave only a light glance at Yang Yi and Fatty Lin. Perhaps, when Yang Yi and Fatty Lin left the mountain village, the guidance and 'blood replacement' he spoke of were meant to refer to these very things.

[Style remains unchanged, focus on the dramatic! Brothers, keep supporting, fight on! Urgently calling for collections, thanks for the support! Another chapter tonight!]

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