NBA: Northeast China's spectacular dunks sweep the entire league.

Chapter 72 Sparks Reign! Uncle Allen and Uncle Lin

The sycamore trees at the entrance of Fengtian Gymnasium have just sprouted new buds. When the wind blows, the tender leaves rustle, as if applauding the row of red banners with yellow characters at the entrance.

The banner's handwriting was crooked and messy, clearly something Zhao Dabao had had a roadside print shop owner write on the spot, but the content was quite outrageous: "Spark Youth Training Camp is recruiting! Anyone who can endure hardship, isn't afraid of fatigue, and knows how to create chaos is welcome! Food, lodging, and canned yellow peaches provided!"

"Haozi, do you think this banner is too informal?" Zhao Dabao, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, squatted on the steps, rummaging through the registration forms. "Just now, a parent asked me if the canned yellow peaches were real or fake. I said they were more real than real gold, and he turned around and took his child away."

"It's good that you're gone," Lin Hao said, wearing a faded number 7 jersey with a stack of peach cans half his height at his feet. "We need players who really want to play basketball, not people who come to mooch off the canned fruit."

The words had barely left his mouth when the sound of dribbling echoed through the gymnasium. The first batch of 32 trainees had already arrived, the oldest being 14 and the youngest only 8, and were running laps around the court. Lin Hao glanced at them, his brow furrowing slightly: "Why are a few missing?"

"The sports association said yesterday that several promising athletes from sports schools are coming," Zhao Dabao stubbed out his cigarette, dusted off his pants, "but—"

"But what?"

"However, it was Guo Shiqiang who brought the man, saying that his son insisted on seeing you."

Just as Lin Hao was about to speak, he heard a commotion at the door.

A middle-aged man in a dark blue tracksuit walked in, leading a little boy by the hand. Behind them were seven or eight parents, craning their necks to look inside. The little boy was short, wearing a baseball cap two sizes too big on his head, and he walked with his knees raised high, like a little penguin.

"Lin Hao!" Guo Shiqiang waved from afar, his voice booming like a megaphone, "Congratulations on winning the championship! I brought my son Guo Ailun to register; that kid's been nagging at home every day to learn basketball from you!"

Lin Hao paused for a moment, then smiled and went to greet him. He remembered Guo Shiqiang, the coach of the Liaoning youth team, whom he had met a few times before during national team training camps.

Guo Ailun hid behind his father, clutching the hem of his shirt with his little hands, and secretly glanced at Lin Hao. When their eyes met, the little guy immediately lowered his head, his ears turning red.

"This is my nephew?" Lin Hao squatted down, looking Guo Ailun straight in the eye. "I heard you're a pretty good player?"

Guo Ailun didn't say anything, but nodded vigorously, causing the brim of his hat to sway.

"Alright, stop standing there," Lin Hao patted Guo Shiqiang's arm. "Since he's here, let him give it a try."

Guo Shiqiang pushed Guo Ailun forward: "Go on, show your Uncle Lin the crossover dribble you've been practicing for half a month."

The gymnasium fell silent instantly. All 32 elementary school students stopped and formed a circle. Guo Ailun stood in the center of the circle, took a deep breath, pulled his baseball cap down further, and bent down to dribble the ball.

"Bang, bang, bang—"

The basketball bounced on the floor with a crisp sound like a firecracker. The little guy's dribbling speed was astonishing; crossovers, behind-the-back moves, spins—his movements were still a bit clumsy, but his rhythm was exceptionally good. Reaching the marker, he changed direction, the ball seemingly glued to his hand, circling the post three times before finally stopping in front of Lin Hao, where he caught the ball securely.

There was a two-second silence, followed by a burst of applause.

"Good lad!" Lin Hao's eyes lit up. He had clearly seen the flickering of the boy's wrist and the rise and fall of his center of gravity when he dribbled. He was a natural-born guard, much better than Lin Hao was at age 10.

"Uncle Lin," Guo Ailun looked up, his voice childish yet stubborn, "I can endure hardship and I'm not afraid of being tired. I want to play in the NBA, just like you."

Lin Hao laughed and reached out to rub his head: "Playing in the NBA isn't just about talking; you have to master the fundamentals first."

"I can train!" Guo Ailun exclaimed anxiously, pulling a crumpled notebook from his pocket. "Look, this is my daily practice record. I can shoot 500 baskets and dribble 2,000 times a day!"

Lin Hao took the notebook, which was filled with crookedly drawn tables, recording dates, dribbles, shots, and turnovers, each stroke clear and precise. The latest page read: "March 15th, 2100 dribbles, 520 shots, 8 turnovers, 2 fewer than yesterday, happy."

Zhao Dabao leaned over for a look and exclaimed in amazement, "My goodness! This kid is much better than my good-for-nothing son. All he does is play video games all day."

Guo Shiqiang was a little embarrassed, rubbing his hands together as he said, "This kid is stubborn; once he's made up his mind, nothing can change it. Lin Hao, if you think he's capable, keep him; if not, we'll leave now."

"Stay," Lin Hao said firmly, handing the notebook back to Guo Ailun. "Not only will you stay, but your tuition will be waived."

"That won't do!" Guo Shiqiang quickly waved his hand, "We're here to learn ball, how can we not pay—"

"I said it's waived, so it's waived," Lin Hao interrupted him, pointing to the can of yellow peaches next to him. "You don't need to pay tuition. Just practice your ball skills properly from now on. Da Bao, go and get the cans over here."

Zhao Dabao responded and happily went to move the boxes. Lin Hao took out a can of yellow peaches from it and stuffed it into Guo Ailun's hand: "This is a greeting gift. Train hard in the youth training camp from now on, don't embarrass your dad, and don't embarrass me either."

Guo Ailun held the can of food tightly, his fingers turning white from gripping it, his lips pressed together, and after a long pause, he managed to squeeze out, "Uncle Lin, I'll definitely train hard!"

The parents around them watched this scene and began to whisper among themselves.

"Lin Hao is so generous! He's waiving all tuition fees?"

"They only see their child as talented. If my son had that ability, I'd be happy to pay for his tuition, let alone waive it."

"I heard this youth training camp is really free? They provide food, lodging, and even canned food?"

Lin Hao ignored the comments, turned around, walked to the center of the court, and clapped his hands: "Everyone, come and gather!"

Thirty-two elementary school students swarmed around, and even Guo Ailun quickly joined the line, straightening his little body.

"From today onwards, you are the first batch of trainees in the Spark Youth Training Program," Lin Hao said, scanning each young face. "I don't care where you played before, or what your family's circumstances are. Once you enter this door, you only have one goal—to play basketball well."

"I don't want to hear you talk about playing in the NBA or winning championships," he paused, raising his voice, "I only care how hard you train and how fiercely you compete. If you train well, I'll give you the best resources; if you don't, even if your dad is a high-ranking official, I'll send you home."

"I've got it," Lin Hao pointed to the five-pointed star embroidered on his chest. "The meaning of 'spark' is that each of us is a spark. If there are enough sparks, we can ignite a fire and ignite the places where Chinese basketball needs us most."

The children nodded, seemingly understanding, their little eyes shining.

"Now," Lin Hao slammed the basketball to the ground, "run ten laps around the court to warm up!"

"yes!"

A group of little kids shouted and rushed out. Guo Ailun was in the lead. His baseball cap was blown off by the wind. He reached out and held the cap down, running faster than a rabbit.

Zhao Dabao leaned over and handed Lin Hao a bottle of water: "Haozi, what you just said makes me want to go back to practicing ball skills."

Lin Hao unscrewed the bottle cap, took a sip of water, and his gaze fell on the children on the field. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on their running figures like scattered gold dust.

He knew that not all of these kids would make it big, not all of them would go to the NBA. But as long as even one spark could ignite, it would all be worth it.

"Dabao," Lin Hao suddenly said, "Go and contact Dell Curry. Tell him I have an idea to invite him to give the kids a shooting lesson."

"Dale Curry? That NBA sharpshooter?" Zhao Dabao's eyes widened. "You really want to hire him? How much would that cost?"

"I'll figure out the money," Lin Hao smiled. "For Spark's first lesson, we need to invite someone of sufficient caliber."

In the distance, Guo Ailun had finished running ten laps and was practicing dribbling with a basketball in his arms. His face was flushed red, but he refused to stop.

Lin Hao looked at him and it was as if he were seeing a night ten years later, with the Oracle Arena lights shining as brightly as day, and that little kid who had once been a child had grown into a guard who could stand on his own.

Their story has only just begun.

[Ding! Detected that the host has completed "Spark Youth Training - Phase 1 Recruitment," triggering the hidden quest: The Flame of Inheritance. Quest Reward: 1 random S-rank talent fragment, +10% growth speed for youth training camp participants.]

Lin Hao smiled slightly, crushed the empty water bottle, and threw it into the trash can.

"Come on, Da Bao, let's go to the training gym. Today's first lesson is to teach them what defense is."