A Clash of Positions

Wang Chuan gave a slight nod.

He knew that Tang Wulin had apprenticed at Mang Tian Studio for the past three years, scrimping and saving to put aside some money.

But he was still a long way from the seventy thousand Federation Coins needed to buy the cheapest Ten-Year White Soul Spirit.

And the Hundred-Year Yellow Soul Spirit, priced as high as a million, was even less affordable for an ordinary family.

He also knew that Tang Ziran had savings amounting to a million Federation Coins.

But for some reason, he had never touched it, not even when Tang Wulin was buying a Soul Spirit.

The feeling of clearly having the hope of obtaining a better Soul Spirit, only to be forced by financial reality to settle for the lowest-grade one—

Would likely be quite a blow to a child, especially Tang Wulin, who had once been sensitive and insecure.

And now, Wang Chuan regarded Tang Wulin as half a younger brother.

Naturally, he would not stand by and do nothing.

So, he planned to accompany them to the Spirit Pagoda tomorrow and see how things went.

If Tang Wulin truly found himself in trouble because he did not have enough money, Wang Chuan would not mind lending a hand, openly or secretly.

For him now, money was no longer a problem.

What Leng Yaozhu had given him, along with the subsidies issued by the Spirit Pagoda, meant that aside from cultivation resources, he had saved enough Federation Coins to easily buy several Hundred-Year Soul Spirits.

In his heart...

Tang San was Tang San, and Tang Wulin was Tang Wulin.

That lofty God King who had schemed for ten thousand years—

Was an entirely different existence from the hardworking, sunny boy before him who called him "Brother Chuan."

"Alright."

Wang Chuan said to Tang Wulin.

"I happen to be free tomorrow. I'll go take a look with you."

His tone was calm, but it carried a trace of concern.

Hearing this, Tang Wulin's eyes lit up even more brightly. He nodded hard.

"Mm! Thank you, Brother Chuan!"

The next morning, dawn had only begun to break.

Outside the Aolai City Spirit Pagoda Branch.

Tang Wulin and Tang Ziran had arrived early.

Looking at the ancient yet imposing three-story tower-shaped building before them, Tang Ziran's expression was somewhat complicated, and his hands unconsciously clenched slightly.

The incident years ago that had changed the course of his life had left him with an inexpressible fear and sense of estrangement toward the colossal Spirit Pagoda.

If not for Wulin's Soul Spirit, he might never have set foot here again for the rest of his life.

At that moment, a sleek Soul Guidance Car, understated but clearly expensive, silently pulled up by the roadside.

The door opened, and Wang Chuan stepped out.

His face still retained a boyish youthfulness.

Yet the calmness in his eyes and the steady bearing faintly emanating from him made it difficult to regard him as an ordinary child.

"Brother Chuan!"

"I'm over here!"

Tang Wulin's eyes suddenly brightened, and a broad smile bloomed across his face. He waved his right hand vigorously, then trotted over in a few quick steps.

The corners of Wang Chuan's mouth lifted slightly. Habitually, he reached out and ruffled Tang Wulin's hair, which had become somewhat messy from running. Then his gaze shifted to Tang Ziran, who had followed after him, and he gave a polite nod.

"Good morning, Uncle Tang."

Although three years had passed and Wang Chuan was close to Tang Wulin, he had actually visited Tang Wulin's home very rarely.

Most of the time, he immersed himself wholeheartedly in cultivation.

Because time was truly running short.

There were not many years left until the Abyss invasion that would sweep across the continent.

He needed to use the chaos and opportunities brought by that calamity. More importantly, he needed to absorb the immense, unique energy of the Abyss Plane as a stepping stone toward reaching God Rank.

Otherwise, once Tang San returned from the Space-Time Turbulence with the God Realm, becoming a god would likely become as difficult as ascending to Heaven.

As an unpredictable variable beyond that man's "ten-thousand-year grand plan," Wang Chuan had no doubt that he would become a thorn in Tang San's side by then.

Given that God King's temperament and methods, secret schemes, obstruction, or even assassination were all entirely possible.

Thinking carefully about the original story, the fact that not a single person of this era had successfully ascended to Godhood was inherently suspicious.

Xie Xie's Space-Time Dragon Martial Soul possessed limitless potential.

Yue Zhengyu bore a top-tier Martial Soul. Qian Renxue had relied on the Angel God's Legacy to become a god ten thousand years ago, so why had that legacy already been severed twenty thousand years later?

And where had the Angel God's divine artifact ended up?

How could an Evil Soul Master organization like the Holy Spirit Cult grow and flourish right under the noses of the Angel Family, who were naturally capable of suppressing them with their sacred attributes...

Without someone behind the scenes "indulging" or "arranging" it, it was truly hard to explain.

To Wang Chuan, every trace of evidence seemed to point toward that God King, far beyond the Space-Time Turbulence, who still sought to remotely control the Douluo game board.

Wang Chuan sneered inwardly.

He could more or less guess Tang San's intentions.

A man born into a feudal sect, who rose to prominence by secretly learning the inner sect's techniques, only to ultimately stand at the pinnacle of the world.

With his horizons and class position, it would likely be difficult for him to truly place the interests of the countless people of Douluo Continent—especially commoners—at heart.

The so-called "ten-thousand-year grand plan," when all was said and done, was merely a grand scheme to preserve the Tang Family's rule and ensure the continuation of its fortune.

Therefore, from the standpoint of their fundamental positions, Wang Chuan knew that he and that God King he had never met had long since stood on opposing sides.

This had nothing to do with a simple judgment of good and evil. It was the inevitable collision between two different class ideologies and two different visions for the world's future.

Such collisions were often accompanied by iron and blood.

"Xiaochuan, sorry to trouble you today."

Tang Ziran's voice interrupted Wang Chuan's thoughts, carrying a hint of restraint.

Over the past three years, he had seen Wang Chuan several times, yet he had never been able to regard this overly composed, deep-eyed, measured young man as an ordinary child.

That intangible sense of distance and faint pressure—

Always made him unconsciously lower his posture before Wang Chuan.

Wang Chuan drew back his wandering thoughts.

"You're too polite, Uncle Tang. It's only a small matter."

"Let's go in."

His tone was mild, yet he naturally took control of the situation.

With that, he took the lead and walked toward the Spirit Pagoda's entrance.

Tang Ziran and Tang Wulin hurriedly followed.

Upon entering the tower, they found several Spirit Transmitters on duty that day leisurely handling paperwork or speaking quietly in the bright, spacious hall.

When they caught sight of Wang Chuan entering from the corners of their eyes, their expressions instantly turned solemn. Almost in unison, they set down what they were doing, straightened up, and respectfully saluted in Wang Chuan's direction.

"Greetings, Envoy."

Their voices were uniform, carrying heartfelt respect.

Within the Spirit Pagoda system, aside from the Pagoda Master and vice Pagoda Masters, the most revered positions belonged to the Four Great Spirit Envoys.

And Wang Chuan, thanks to his astonishing talent and his status as Vice Pagoda Master Leng Yaozhu's personal disciple—

Had been exceptionally granted the title of Reserve Spirit Envoy a year earlier.

It was simply that everyone understood the word "reserve" was merely a formality.

Once his cultivation reached the required standard, becoming a true Spirit Envoy would be a certainty.