Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 238 Chaotic Spirits

She pointed to a place marked in light red on the map.

The projection changed accordingly, revealing a wasteland shrouded in an eternally blood-red sky, the ground undulating intermittently, as if it possessed life:

"But the real challenge begins at the 'Crimson Shoals'—the first and second layers of the abyss. On the surface, it appears to be just a wasteland shrouded in an eternally blood-red sky, but in reality, it hides thousands of 'spatial vesicles,' each with its own unique ecosystem."

A stunning scene appeared in the projection—an invisible dividing line, with two completely different worlds on the left and right.

On one side is a swamp ravaged by acid rain, and on the other side is an ice field shimmering with crystalline light.

A hint of wariness flashed in Mrs. Allen's eyes, as if she were recalling some unpleasant experience:

“I have witnessed two completely different worlds within a mere step’s distance. What’s most terrifying is that these boundaries can sometimes suddenly shift or disappear, plunging unsuspecting explorers into a completely unfamiliar environment.”

She paused, her gaze becoming distant, and the figure of an explorer appeared in the projection.

He took a wrong step and suddenly fell into an unseen swamp, where he was completely swallowed up in the blink of an eye:
“Once, I witnessed an experienced explorer step into an unseen swamp from dry sand simply because of one wrong step. He was swallowed up almost instantly, without even having time to struggle.”

Even more terrifying is that the 'swamp' is actually inhabited by a sentient liquid creature that remembers the scent of its prey and learns to mimic their calls to lure its companions closer.

Ron carefully considered this information, and began to devise possible countermeasures in his mind.

This bizarre change further solidified his resolve not to explore it himself, but to send a stand-in puppet for remote control.

"In the 'Crimson Shoals,' you will encounter more powerful mutants, some of which have even evolved to power close to that of a formal wizard."

Mrs. Allen's voice became low and serious.

A giant spider appeared in the projection, its body covered in a crystalline red shell, and its eight eyes gleaming with an unsettlingly intelligent light.

"The 'blood crystal spider' is one of them; this creature may have originally been just an ordinary spider."

However, under the influence of abyssal energy, they become enormous and terrifying, capable of spraying nets formed from condensed blood crystals. Any creature captured by the nets will gradually be transformed into blood crystals.

The oldest blood crystal spiders are said to be able to create perfect replicas of blood crystals, mimicking the appearance and behavior of their captured prey.

In the projection, a giant blood crystal spider sprayed out a crystal-clear web, capturing an explorer.

The unfortunate man was gradually covered by red crystals, eventually turning into a lifelike blood crystal statue, even retaining his facial expression.

Mrs. Allen's gaze was deep, as if she could see right through Ron's thoughts.

She reached out and grabbed a piece of blood crystal from the projection. The crystal materialized and landed in her palm, emitting a faint red light.

"You might think that with your current strength, dealing with these mutants shouldn't be a problem."

But remember, the battles in the abyss are completely different from those in the surface world.

The energy there is chaotic and violent, and conventional spells may produce unexpected reactions.

Physical attacks, on the other hand, may lose their accuracy due to spatial distortion.

More importantly, many mutants possess unique adaptive abilities, enabling them to quickly analyze and adapt to their opponent's attack patterns in combat.

Mrs. Allen gave Ron a meaningful look, and the blood crystal powder in her hand began to change, forming different kinds of abyssal materials:

"It is worth noting that different space vesicles produce different types of abyssal materials. The key to finding a specific material lies in finding the right vesicle."

Her expression suddenly became complicated.

"The most bizarre thing is that these vesicles seem to be able to 'sense' the explorer's needs. If you have an extreme craving for a certain material, you will often 'just happen' to find a vesicle rich in that material, as if the abyss is deliberately luring you to go deeper."

Her finger traced across the map, stopping at an area marked in deep purple. The projection shifted accordingly, revealing a strange desert composed of black sand:

"When you enter the third layer, the 'Black Sand Wasteland,' the difficulty will increase further. The environment becomes more active and corrosive, and the curse effect is greatly amplified. Even a formal wizard would find it difficult to stay there for more than a few days without being significantly affected."

Mrs. Allen's eyes became unusually bright, as if recalling some terrifying yet unforgettable scene.

The black sand in the projection began to wriggle slightly, forming various bizarre patterns and shapes:

“The ‘sand’ there—if you can still call it sand—is sentient. Each grain is a miniature life form with collective intelligence. They analyze the intruder’s behavior patterns and then subtly alter the terrain to trap their prey.”

Her voice trembled slightly as an image of an exploration team appeared in the projection.

“I once witnessed an exploration team get lost in the ‘black sand desert.’ At first, they simply found themselves going back to where they started, as if trapped in some kind of spatial loop. Then, the sand began to subtly deform, quietly separating the team members so they couldn’t see each other. Finally…”

Mrs. Allen's voice lowered, her fingertips lightly tracing the projection, and the explorers swallowed by the black sand gradually disappeared into the sand:

“The sand began to seep into their equipment, corrode their skin, and penetrate their lungs. The whole process was silent and slow, like a carefully planned murder.”

As for the detailed process of how Sha Zi committed the murder, she, as an observer, could not see it and naturally could not record it.

But Ron could sense a real fear seeping from Mrs. Allen’s descriptions and projections.

The memories flickering in her eyes and the slight trembling of her fingertips told him that this was not a fabricated warning, but a nightmare she had personally experienced.

Mrs. Allen's voice suddenly became more serious.

A strange mist appeared in the projection, its surface constantly changing shape, and its interior shimmering with countless tiny points of light, looking like a prisoner's starry sky:
"But the most dangerous beings starting from the third level are not those powerful mutants, nor the active sand, but the 'chaotic spirits'."

A flicker of genuine fear crossed her eyes, something extremely rare for the usually composed Mrs. Allen.

The fog in the projection materialized and slowly rotated between the two people.

"They are aberrant beings from the abyss, appearing as a constantly shifting cloud of mist, with countless tiny points of light shimmering within, like a prisoner's starry sky."

As she described it, the cloud of mist suddenly spun violently, forming a small vortex, and the image of an explorer in the projection vanished instantly.

"When you are targeted by them, you will be randomly teleported to any level of the abyss, to any place."

Her voice became extremely low:

“One of my companions was once targeted by a ‘chaotic spirit.’ In an instant, he vanished before my eyes. Years later, I found a part of him—only a part—in a corner of the sixth floor. Judging from the traces, he may have struggled to survive there for months, but ultimately could not escape.”

Mrs. Allen paused, her gaze becoming serious:

"The scariest thing is that the more a team harvests in the abyss and the more mutants they hunt, the greater the probability of encountering 'chaotic monsters,' which is like a self-protection mechanism of the abyss itself."

A painful memory flashed in her eyes:

“I once led a team deep into the third level to collect ‘Black Sand Essence’. We were extremely lucky and collected enough materials in just three days.”

But just as they were preparing to return, three 'Chaos Spirits' appeared at the same time, scattering the entire group into various corners of the abyss.

Only I and two others eventually found our way back; the others never came out again.

Ron frowned slightly, pondering the strategic adjustments this new intelligence would bring:

"That does sound tricky. Is there any way to avoid these 'chaotic spirits'?"

"Theoretically, the chances of being detected by them can be reduced through special energy shielding devices,"

Mrs. Allen answered, her fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of the teacup.

"But there is no completely effective method. The best defense is not to be greedy—once you have collected enough materials, leave the abyss immediately instead of continuing to take risks."

She clasped her hands around the teacup, her deep green eyes sparkling with concern:

"The most dangerous thing about the abyss is not the visible monsters, but its corruption of the human heart."

Greed, fear, despair, anger. These emotions are amplified infinitely in the abyss, eventually devouring a person's reason.

I have seen too many initially determined explorers ultimately dragged into an abyss of no return by their own desires.

At this point, she seemed to remember something important, straightened her back, the projection completely disappeared, and the light in the room returned to normal.

Mrs. Allen set the teacup aside, placed her hands folded on her knees, and her expression became serious and solemn.

"Speaking of which, I must remind you of something—now is the golden period for you to improve your skills."

Having just broken through to become a full-fledged wizard, all mental pollution has been cleared away, and you will now experience a period of rapid magical growth, typically lasting one to two years. This signifies that your physical and mental strength are gradually transitioning to a higher level.

Mrs. Allen's gaze became unusually sharp.

She leaned forward, tapping her fingers lightly on the table to emphasize:

"This is an extremely precious window of opportunity; many wizards may only have this one chance in their entire lives."

During this period, your body will automatically adapt to the increasing power, forming a more stable and efficient circulatory system.

A wisp of magic bloomed at her fingertips, forming a miniature growth curve that perfectly illustrated the enhancement period she had described:

"Don't waste this precious time. Improve your strength as much as possible before you truly step into the abyss."

Because once you begin exploring the abyss, mental pollution will accumulate again, and at a rate far exceeding your experience on the surface.

By then, learning new spells will be exponentially more difficult, and you'll need to spend significantly more time and effort dispelling the contamination.

After confirming that the other party clearly understood the importance of this growth period, she waved away the projection:
"In short, you'd better at least stabilize your Morning Star level before you step into the abyss."

She stood up and walked to the window, where the sunlight outside made her silhouette exceptionally clear.

Even the most experienced exploration teams rarely venture below the sixth level. Those deeper levels are completely beyond the capabilities of ordinary formal wizards; only top-tier experts at the Dark Sun level can possibly stay briefly on the sixth level. And even deeper levels…

She turned around, a flicker of fear in her eyes:
"It is said that only great wizards can survive there, and even then, it can only be a brief exploration. The rules there are completely distorted, the concepts of time and space have become blurred, and even thought itself has become malleable material that can be twisted and shaped by external forces."

She walked back to Ron, gently placed her hands on his shoulders, and her voice became unusually serious:

"Remember, the allure of the abyss often comes with danger."

The most precious materials are often hidden in the most dangerous places;
And those seemingly most beautiful sights may be the most deadly traps.

Always remain vigilant, and never underestimate the strangeness and cruelty of the abyss.

Be especially wary of those who suddenly "luckily" discover what they need in the abyss—that's usually a trap set by the abyss to lure you deeper and more greedily into exploring.

Her voice became lower:

"Finally, and most importantly—whatever you see or hear in the abyss, do not respond to those voices that are speaking directly to you."

Especially those voices that sound like people you know, or promise to fulfill your deepest desires.

Those are all traps. Once you respond, your soul will be marked, becoming prey to the abyss.

"Thank you for your detailed guidance and generous gift."

Ron stood up, bowed slightly to Mrs. Allen, his eyes shining with genuine gratitude:

“I will keep these teachings in mind and verify and improve them in practice.”

Mrs. Allen smiled slightly, a hint of relief flashing in her deep green eyes, as if she had finally fulfilled a long-held promise.

She reached out and gently patted Ron's shoulder.

"From the moment you stepped into my herbal medicine shop, I could tell you were different. I only hope that when you reach a higher position, you can occasionally look back at the scenery along this path."

Sunlight streamed through the window, gilding Mrs. Allen's hair with a golden edge.

She turned around and gave Ron one last look, her eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions:
Expectations, worries, pride, regrets, and some other indescribable emotions, like looking at a distant shadow of the past.

(End of this chapter)