Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Time is the most silent sculptor.

It doesn't need knives or hammers; it only uses the tool of "repetition" to polish any rough stone into precise gears.

The civilization of the bloodline is being sculpted by this sculptor, stroke by stroke.

The holographic projection in front of Ron had been adjusted to its maximum scale.

In that hilly region he knew best, change was happening at a dizzying pace.

"Surface → Underground → Surface return".

He wrote the three stages side by side in his notes and then drew an upward-curving arc to connect them.

Iron Tide's metalworking technology was the fuse that ignited the explosion.

After that primitive trade of ore for knives was established, the scale of exchange between the Bloodline and the Iron Tide expanded rapidly.

Iron Tide provides not only finished tools, but also an extremely simple yet efficient metal smelting process template.

The Bloodline Lightsmiths quickly discovered that by combining smelting parameters with their profound understanding of pyroxene properties, they could create new products that far surpassed existing technological levels.

This is the background to the birth of "pyroxene concrete".

Pyroxene powder is ground to submicron level, mixed with metal in a specific ratio, and then poured into a precast mold.

The curing process requires continuous light catalysis, which is precisely the natural advantage of bloodline.

The body temperature radiation emitted by stellar debris falls within the optimal activation wavelength range of pyroxene powder.

A pyroxene concrete wall serves as a load-bearing structure, an energy storage unit, and a lighting source.

"Breakthroughs in materials science are often a harbinger of a leap forward in civilization."

Ron wrote in his notes:

"When a species learns to reshape its habitat with new materials, it no longer passively adapts to the creatures of nature, but begins to actively transform the world's civilization."

This judgment was quickly verified.

The invention of pyroxene concrete spurred the first large-scale construction movement in the history of bloodline architecture.

The underground space of Shenri City was systematically expanded and reinforced.

The originally narrow and cramped mine tunnels were widened into a spacious passageway that allowed beastmen cavalry to pass side by side.

Residential areas, workshops, warehouses, training grounds... the functional zoning is gradually becoming clear.

But for a race that relies on sunlight for survival, going underground is ultimately just a stopgap measure.

After the threat of the Green Wall was effectively contained by the Sunburn Front and the Highland Network, the Bloodline turned their attention back to the Hills.

The construction project started at the foot of the mountain and proceeded upwards step by step.

The miners first carved out pyroxene tunnels inside the mountain, providing raw materials for construction and laying the energy foundation for the future city.

These mine tunnels also served as major transportation routes, connecting to the main tunnels of Shenri City's underground network.

The polisher stacked the pyroxene concrete blocks layer by layer.

The city wall strictly follows the contour lines, winding and spiraling from the foot of the mountain all the way to the summit.

As night falls, the accumulated energy from the day is slowly released, and the entire mountain town is bathed in a warm orange-gold halo.

Viewed from a distance, it resembles a lighthouse lifted from the earth by the hand of a giant, stubbornly burning in the darkness.

When Ron first saw the night view of Dawn City, he was reminded of Twilight City.

They also built their business brick by brick, relying on technology and concepts as their foundation, even amidst a hostile environment.

But Twilight City is a direct product of his will; every decision and every plan has been carefully considered by him.

Dawn City is different.

He provided the seeds, the soil, and the first rain.

The city's form, layout, and those breathtaking architectural details are largely the product of the bloodline's own hands and wisdom.

"A different feeling."

Twilight City made him proud, and Dawn City made him... gratified.

The subtle difference between the two emotions is probably the difference between "builder" and "creator".

The builder lays each brick by hand, and the achievement of the work is equal to the achievement of himself.

The creator only sows the first seed, and then retreats into the background.

Watching your creations grow, blossom, and bear fruit in ways you never imagined.

"Next..."

Ron's fingers slid slowly across the panel, shifting the focus of his observation from the macroscopic panoramic view of the city to the microscopic level of individual behavior.

He was looking for some kind of signal.

A specific signal that only appears after civilization has developed to a certain stage.

The name of that signal is—Divergence.

………………

The seeds of discord were actually sown long before Dawn City was even built.

In retrospect, Ron realized that he had inadvertently created a structural contradiction when he initially designed the ternary symbiotic system.

Sunlight, pyroxene, and the Echoing Tree.

The three elements form a closed loop, but their presence in the lives of blood descendants is not equal.

Sunlight is the most direct indicator; it rises and sets every day, and you can feel the response of star fragments when it shines on your skin.

It is the source of life force and the most primal and instinctive object of worship for blood descendants.

The Echoing Tree is the most sacred.

Trees are the threshold of death, but also the birthplace of rebirth.

But the role of pyroxene is more complex.

For those dozen or so generations of descendants who were born and raised underground and never saw real sunlight.

Pyroxene is not a "substitute for light"; pyroxene is light itself.

This difference in perception did not disappear after the bloodline returned to the surface; instead, it gradually solidified with population growth and the refinement of the social division of labor.

In the third century after the construction of Dawn City (internal time), three distinct group temperaments could be clearly identified within the bloodline society.

In the observation room, Ron labeled the behavioral data of the three groups with colors: gold, silver, and blue.

Golden Group – Sunbeam Believers.

They are the most "orthodox" bloodline.

The core of the faith revolves around the sun and the Echoing Tree, with a simple yet powerful doctrine: "Light is life, the tree is eternity."

Mediums are the natural leaders of this group, and their daily rituals are full of symbolism.

Every day, as the first rays of dawn touch the summit of Dawn City, the mediums gather under the trees, close their eyes, and chant.

There is no fixed songbook for the lyrics; each recitation is an impromptu interpretation of the memories in the tree by the medium.

They wove the experiences of their predecessors into stories and sang them to the onlookers.

These stories gradually accumulated, were selected, and refined, eventually forming a semi-solidified "canon".

"Song of the Night" is the opening of the sacred text, recounting the first cold night and the Great Union;

"Song of Darkness" follows closely behind, telling the story of hardship and perseverance during the underground period;

"Song of Light" is the latest chapter, telling the story of returning to the surface and building the City of Dawn.

The three songs, when strung together, form the "trilogy" of the Bloodline Civilization.

The Silver Group – Deep Stone Believers.

The core of this group consists of miners and polishers.

They used their bare hands to chisel through the rock walls, set up pyroxene resonance nodes, and build every passageway in Deep Sun City.

If the gaze of the Sunbeam believers is always directed towards the sky, then the gaze of the Deep Stone believers is always directed downwards.

"The true source of light is not in the sky, but on the ground."

The followers of Deep Stone do not deny the importance of sunlight, nor do they question the sanctity of the Echoing Tree.

But they insist that the foundation of bloodline civilization is not the sun hanging in the sky.

The sun will be blocked by green walls, covered by dark clouds, and disappear when night falls.

Only pyroxene veins are permanent.

It lies buried deep underground, faithfully providing light and warmth to its descendants.

"The sun is a guest, but pyroxene is the family."

This saying is widely circulated among miners.

The blue group – travelers.

If the followers of Sunrise are the "heart" of the Bloodline Civilization, and the followers of Deepstone are the "skeleton," then the travelers are the "legs."

They are the fewest in number, making up less than five percent of the total population.

However, their influence far exceeds this proportion.

The traveler's object of faith is not the sun, nor the brilliance stone, nor the Echoing Tree.

They worship a concept so abstract it's almost impossible to define in language—"beyond the boundaries."

In the Bloodline's cognitive map, the world's boundary is the limit of the Echo Tree's coverage area.

Beyond this range, the soul backup will fail.

Death is true death, irreversible, and there is no way to upload or back up memories.

But there are some people who, gazing at the horizon, feel an irrepressible longing welling up in their hearts.

The travelers never denied the Echoing Tree, nor rejected the sunlight or the deep stone, but they held fast to one additional tenet:
Blood relatives should not be imprisoned in safe zones.

They are the implementers of foreign exploration and diplomatic affairs.

Maintaining trade routes with the Iron Tide, conducting reconnaissance and infiltration of the Green Tide front lines, and investigating other areas within the Gray Zone...

These dangerous tasks, which require going deep into the network, are almost entirely undertaken by the Far Travelers.

The casualty rate is much higher than that of other groups, and most of them cannot be backed up or respawned.

Before each traveler crossed the border, they would inscribe a line in their record.

The inscriptions differ, but the last sentence is almost always the same:

"If I do not return it, this will be my last words."

………………

Three faiths coexist within the same race, and friction is limited to ideological conflicts.

The mediums of the Sunrise Cult believe that the Deep Stone Cult has "putted the cart before the horse."

The source of pyroxene is still the sun. If we worship stones instead of the sun, aren't we mistaking our ancestors?
The Deepstone Cult countered that the sun was not something they could control, but rather the pyroxene.

It's better to believe in something you can rely on than something you can't control.

The traveler shook his head at both sides.

"You are all arguing about which light to worship, but isn't the purpose of light to illuminate the way?"
The road lies ahead, neither beneath your feet nor above your head.

The three-way debate usually takes the form of casual conversation, occasionally escalating into heated arguments, but rarely escalating into violent conflict.

The bloodline lacks that fanatical religious impulse that leads to bloodshed because their collective memory is too vivid.

Each individual can personally "experience" the great merger on the first cold night through the Echo Tree.

The core message of that memory is so simple that it cannot be misinterpreted: only by being together can we survive.

Noticing this, Ron was also making notes:
"There is progress only when there is controversy. If there is no disagreement, it means that the internal structure has become completely rigid and dead."

He paused, thought for a moment, and then added a sentence below:
"As long as it doesn't escalate into a civil war, it's fine."

As I closed the notebook, Azalea's voice came through.

"Finished writing?"

"In stages."

Ron stood up and stretched his stiff shoulders and neck.

He walked to the edge of the grid space, his gaze passing through the semi-transparent dimensional barrier and landing on the surface of the miniature planet in the distance.

The sunscalding line on the highlands resembled a string of lamps encircling the hills, drawing a clear dividing line in the darkness.

On the other side of the dividing line, the dark green of the green tide is still there.

It neither retreated nor advanced.

They simply wait silently and patiently for the next opportunity in the long life of a plant.

"What's next?" Acelia asked.

Ron gazed at the line connecting the two cities, and the fine, spiderweb-like paths of exploration radiating outward from Dawn City, trodden by the travelers.

Some paths extend so far that they almost encroach on the spheres of influence of other participating species.

The explorers brought back more than just maps and mineral samples.

They also brought back descriptions of the wider world:

The metal wasteland of the Iron Tide Empire, the core of the Mother Nest Flower faintly visible deep within the Green Tide, and the various small and medium-sized populations in the Gray Domain...

This information is slowly fermenting in the collective memory of the bloodline, giving rise to a new wave of curiosity and ambition.

"Next, there will probably be a period of stable development."

"I should go back and take a look."

After leaving the imaginary space, Ron quickly arrived at his northern manor.

It was late at night, the documents on the desk were still open, and the dip pen was on the pen holder, the ink already dried.

Dale should have already rested, and the vines of Ailan have retreated into their nighttime stillness, the entire manor breathing a dense sense of tranquility in the deep of night.

He activated the teleportation array leading to the ancestral land of the Crown Clan.

When the light faded, no one greeted him, for no one knew he would return that night.

Even Eve didn't know.

Ron walked down the corridor and paused involuntarily when he passed the portrait wall in the hall.

The veil over Cassandra's portrait has been removed.

Not far away, the lights were on in Eve's living room.

A warm, orange light shone through the crack in the door, and rustling sounds came from inside the room.

Ron paused outside the door for a moment, but before he could knock, the door was already pulled open from the inside.

The black-haired princess was still holding a book that was half-open, with a crease on the page from when she hurriedly got up.

She was stunned for about half a second.

Then she placed the book on the small table next to her, leaving the crease in the center of the page, and threw herself into her husband's arms.

"came back?"

"Ah."

"You didn't even tell me." Her voice came from beside Ron's collar, muffled.

I wanted to give you a surprise.

"Surprise?" Eve lifted her head from his embrace, her eyes holding a subtle expression.
“You always come back a little later than agreed time, and when you do, you say, ‘I wanted to give you a surprise.’”

"...I'll arrive earlier next time."

"Okay." She pressed her face back against her man's chest.

The two of them stood at the door for a while.

The night breeze squeezed in through the cracks in the window at the end of the corridor, brushing past the lamplight and causing a slight sway.

………………

In the warm living room, with the fireplace glowing cozy, the two sat facing each other, with a late-night snack that Caroline had heated up on a small table between them.

A bowl of lasagna, a dish of pickles, and half a box of pastries that Eve specially dug out of her storage bag.

The pastries were bought during one of her business trips, and although they had been sitting for several months, they were still fresh.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Eve stirred the lasagna in her bowl with her fork.

"Ok?"

"Mother is back."

Ron looked up and finally remembered.

"Cassandra?"

"Do I have another mother?"

"...How did she get back to the main world?"

"I found it myself. I first found Grandma Ellen in the Emerald Forest, where I lived for several years and did odd jobs for a while."

Eve spoke casually, as if it were no different from saying "my mother went to buy groceries."

Ron felt like he had a lot of question marks on his forehead right now:
"Cassandra? The handywoman?"

"She can now distinguish between evening primrose and night-blooming jasmine even better than I can, by sorting herbs, boiling water to decoct medicine, and washing utensils."

The black-haired princess covered her mouth and chuckled softly:

"Grandma Allen said she broke a set of exquisite thin-walled teacups, a set of ordinary teaware, and mistook the 'tespoon' on the bitter ginseng measuring cup for a 'spoon'."

"Then now..."

"She is currently undergoing treatment in a crystal coffin. Senior Elena said that most of the alien energy has been cleared away."

Ron put down his fork.

He needed some time to process this information. Cassandra, the woman who could silence all wizards with a single glance.

I spent several years working as a handyman in the Emerald Forest, learning to distinguish between evening primrose and night-blooming jasmine like an apprentice.

The incongruity of this scene is akin to finding a cushion embroidered with a cute little bear on the throne of a witch king.

Hmm, Hector is probably capable of doing something like that.

Has she... changed a lot?

“Yes.” Eve nodded. “But it’s still her.”

These two sentences are not contradictory; on the contrary, they fit together perfectly.

The fire crackled softly.

"Oh, right."

Eve took out an envelope and placed it in front of Ron.

The envelope had been folded, and the corners were curled up a bit.

“A letter from my mother.” Eve sat down again. “She asked me to give it to you.”

Ron glanced down at the envelope, then looked up at his wife.

The other person's expression was too calm, so calm it was somewhat suspicious.

He still opened the letter.

The content appears to have been revised multiple times, eventually reduced to just a few words.

Ron:
I had a lot to say, but considering that it would be pointless to say anything, I'll just get straight to the point.

You married my daughter.

This is a fait accompli; I have no right to object, nor can I object to anything.

But I am entitled to make a few requests.

First, you must not allow her to feel wronged, including but not limited to reasons that you yourself think are for the 'big picture'.

Secondly, she likes sweets but she tries to resist them. Every time she tries to refrain from eating them, she looks a little sad.

She may not realize it herself, but once she sees it, you know what to do.

Third, she sometimes kicks off the covers while sleeping, a habit she developed as a child.

It has nothing to do with illness, don't make a fuss, just cover her up again.

"Also, thank you again for curing Eve."

"I don't know the answer to this matter yet."

"Take good care of her, Cassandra."

Below the signature, there is a line of very small text:
"PS, you can come visit me occasionally if you have time. No need to do it too often, it's up to you."

Ron read the letter from beginning to end, and then from end to beginning.

When he looked up again, he met his wife's smiling eyes.

"You've seen it too?"

"Yes, she told me to read it first, saying she wanted to make sure I had an appropriate reaction after reading it."

Eve rested her elbows on the table, her chin on her palms:

"Your reaction was to read the letter over and over again."

"...I'm making sure I haven't misunderstood."

"Understand what?"

"She was telling me about your lifestyle in clearly threatening language."

"Correct."

"Including the fact that you like to eat sweets, but you will resist the urge to."

Eve's smile faded slightly: "...She watched me grow up, of course she knows these things."

"Also, you kick off the covers when you sleep."

"...That was when I was a child."

"Actually, I noticed you still have this habit a long time ago."

The black-haired princess's ears turned red: "I don't remember this happening."

“Okay.” Ron wisely refrained from asking further questions.

He folded the letter neatly and put it back in the envelope, then picked up a piece of pastry and took a bite:
"But in summary, our former tower owner wrote a threatening letter that wasn't serious in tone, but was full of detailed knowledge of your daily life."

"...This is her style now."

"Should we go see her?" Eve asked softly.

"of course."

………………

The sealed chamber containing the crystal coffin is located deep underground.

Eve led Ron down to the underground level.

The further down you go, the quieter it becomes, with a sense of tranquility.

Like the deepest exhibition hall in the museum, it is neither noisy nor unwelcoming.

The last time I came here, it was Professor Yutel who brought me here and helped me break through to the Moon-level using the special environment here.

It happened decades ago, but in his memory it felt like it happened yesterday.

"The magic arrays here were all set up by our ancestors themselves."

Eve paused before the final magic circle, coordinating with the magic verification:
"It's even higher than the standards of the School Alliance's sealed vault; He said that's what gives him peace of mind."

"What are you worried about?"

"Don't worry, the thing in the crystal coffin won't run out on its own."

Ron didn't ask any more questions. As the last authentication light of the magic circle faded, the two walked in one after the other.

Cassandra's crystal coffin was not placed with the other sleeping members of her clan; it was placed in a separate room.

Inside the coffin, she lay, seemingly in a deep slumber.

Ron stood by the coffin and stared at it in silence for a moment.

"The treatment is progressing even better than you said."

"Of the seven types of heterogeneous energy in my body, less than two remain, and the remaining parts have been forced to the edge, no longer near the core of the ethereal body."

As he spoke, his gaze fell on Cassandra's slightly closed eyelids.

The silence and the sealed-off state made the other person's face lose its usual sharpness.

"she……"

Ron started, paused, and decided to use a more subtle approach: "Has she mentioned those years to you?"

Eve lowered her head, her fingertips unconsciously tracing patterns on the stone surface.

"I mentioned it briefly."

"How did you respond?"

“I told her.” Eve raised her eyes, her gaze also falling on the peaceful face inside the coffin:

“Power itself is not wrong; what is wrong is treating power as the only answer to all problems.”

After saying that, she turned to look at Ron.

"I learned that from you."

"Ok?"

“You are pursuing power, but you are not being chased by it.”

She paused briefly: "Sometimes I think this is the biggest difference between you and your mother."

Ron did not respond, but remained silent, and that silence itself was a response.

After an unknown amount of time, the two sat down side by side on the nearby seats.

Eve rested her head on her husband's shoulder, nestled against him wearily.

Ron adjusted his position so that the other person could rest more securely on his shoulder.

This action triggered Eve's subconscious, causing her to instinctively move closer while half-asleep.

Her forehead pressed against his neck, her lips slightly parted, and her warm breath fell on his collarbone.

Ron opened his eyes.

He looked down and saw his wife's face so close to his.

The black-haired princess is softer in her sleep than when she is awake.

His gaze slowly slid down from his forehead, past his eyebrows, the corners of his eyes, and the bridge of his nose, finally settling on his slightly parted lips.

Her pink lips were slightly pouting, as if she were eating something in her dream.

Then he did the most natural thing in that situation.

Eve's eyelashes trembled as she felt her lips being kissed.

"Um……"

She made an extremely faint nasal sound, raised her arms, and wrapped them around the man's neck.

The second kiss was deeper and longer than the first.

The black-haired princess opened her eyes during the second kiss.

Sleepiness still lingered in her amethyst eyes, but when she looked at her husband so close to her, the corners of her eyes curved into a smile.

"Hmph, you stole a kiss from me while I was asleep, how dishonest of you."

Her fingers slid from her husband's arm to his wrist, then turned over and intertwined.

Palm to palm, body heat permeating each other.

"Honey, how long has it been since you kissed me first?"

Ron lowered his head and met his wife's amethyst eyes, which were so close to his own.

He saw the expectation, the tenderness, and the slight grievance in it.

No matter how clear the sound is in the communication crystal, it is still separated by a cold signal barrier.

“Then…” He tightened his arms around his wife’s waist.

Eve lifted her head from his embrace and kissed him.

The kiss came suddenly, yet felt so natural and inevitable.

"Um……"

The black-haired princess's eyelashes trembled slightly, and she almost melted into her husband's embrace.

Her fingertips slid from the back of his neck to the man's collar, and she began to casually fiddle with the buttons on his collar.

The gesture was gentle yet ambiguous, carrying a clear implication.

Ron sensed her intention and quickly grabbed the restless little hand.

“Eve”.

"Ok?"

"here it is……"

He gestured with his eyes to the crystal coffin not far away.

Eve followed his gaze and chuckled softly, like a cat that had stolen a fish.

"What's wrong?" Her voice tickled Ron's heart: "She's sleeping, and sleeping very soundly."

After she finished speaking, Eve leaned in again, her nose brushing against his chin.

"So, it's safe."

"This is not a question of safety."

"What's the problem?"

"Um... manners?"

Eve laughed when she heard the word.

She wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him again.

Unlike before, this kiss was filled with more heat and tenderness.

After the kiss ended, she deliberately asked:
"Are you still thinking about 'politeness' now?"

The black-haired princess was about to continue her mischief, but as she turned her head, her movements suddenly froze.

Through Ron's shoulder, she saw the direction of the crystal coffin.

The transparent coffin was now facing them.

Cassandra in the coffin still maintained that "Sleeping Beauty" pose.

Hands clasped together, long hair spread out, breathing long and even—everything was exactly the same as before.

Only one detail changed: one of her eyes was half-open.

Ron keenly noticed his wife's body suddenly stiffen.

He turned his head to look at the crystal coffin.

Then, Eve made the same reaction.

The two adjusted themselves in a very natural way, creating distance between each other.

It's definitely not because I feel guilty, I just felt it was a bit hot in the storage room.

Yes, it is like that.

"cough."

Eve cleared her throat and tucked her disheveled hair behind her ears.

"Um, Mom."

She looked at the crystal coffin: "You...are you awake?"

Inside the crystal coffin, Cassandra's right eyelid, which had been half-opened, closed again.

His breathing became long and steady again, and his face regained its impeccable serenity.

The two sat in the storage room for a while longer, but the atmosphere was clearly different from before.

Eve bent down to straighten her half-open collar, while Ron looked up to examine the dome reliefs, and the crystal coffin worked silently beside them.

“I think…” the black-haired princess finally spoke, her voice deliberately calm:
"We can go up now."

"Ah."

Ron stood up.

He nodded slightly toward the crystal coffin, performing a standard wizard's salute.

There was no reaction inside the crystal coffin.

Cassandra remained asleep, as if what had just happened was merely a shared hallucination.

The two walked side by side up the spiral staircase.

Halfway there, Eve suddenly stopped.

"tutor."

"what happened?"

"Tell me, did she really wake up?"

Ron thought for two seconds.

"Under the sealed state of the crystal coffin, conscious activity should be suppressed to a minimum."

"Theoretically speaking, she should only be able to receive extremely vague external information."

"That eye from earlier..."

“Perhaps it’s a physiological reflex,” Ron said without changing his expression.

Eve stared at him for two seconds.

Do you even believe what you're saying?

"……Do not believe."

The two looked at each other for a moment, then looked away almost simultaneously.

“When we come to visit next time,” Ron said as he continued up the stairs, “we should keep our distance.”

“Hmm.” Eve followed, her expression showing some reluctance.

As I stepped out of the main entrance of the castle, the autumn night sky unfolded overhead.

The bow of the Orion constellation, the threads of the Web Weaver, the single, glowing red eye of the King of Laughter…

Everything was the same as when I first arrived in the Central Lands, yet everything was different.

Eve's hands clasped his again.

Their fingers are intertwined, and their palms are pressed together.

"husband."

"Ok?"

"It's nothing." (End of Chapter)