Wizard: My skills can be upgraded indefinitely.

Two months have passed in the blink of an eye.

Ian pushed open the door to the alchemy room, and the morning light slanted in, spreading a light blanket around his feet.

He stretched, his joints cracking softly.

The dark gray wizard's robe he was wearing had faded a bit from washing, and there were still a few dark stains from dried potion on the cuffs.

Gaga rolled out of the shadows and landed on his shoulder.

"Is it assessment today?"

"Um."

Ian walked to the window, pushed it open halfway, and saw that it was already bustling outside.

A large number of people, mostly first-level wizards, had gathered in the courtyard of Shadowmoon Tower.

They stood in twos and threes, talking in hushed tones, the atmosphere subtly tense.

Robert strode up the stairs, a domino in his hand.

"Sir, the assessment site is in the western core area, and it has already begun."

Ian took the dominoes, glanced at them, and saw his name and number engraved on them: Seventeen.

"understood."

He tucked the dominoes into his pocket, turned, and went downstairs.

He scurried back into the shadows of his sleeve with a clatter, his breath completely concealed.

The assessment site was a semi-open-air circular stone platform, surrounded by twelve rune-inscribed stone pillars, with a monitoring crystal ball suspended atop each pillar.

Seven or eight black-robed wizards, members of the enforcement team, stood at the edge of the stone platform, their faces colder than the last.

Fifty or sixty people had already gathered below the stage; most of the first-level wizards from Shadowmoon had come.

Ian stood on the periphery, his eyes fixed on the two people fighting on the stage, arms crossed.

On the stage was a burly man wielding fire magic, and his opponent was a gray-robed witch whose figure moved elusively.

Fireballs roared, and gray mist filled the air. The battle was evenly matched, but Ian glanced at it twice and then looked away.

The skill level is just so-so.

Both were at the mid-stage of level one, their mental energy had just liquefied, their sorcery models were somewhat crude, and their energy control was loose.

If it really comes down to a life-or-death struggle, he can finish it off with a single move.

People nearby were whispering among themselves.

"There are only twenty spots available this time. The three major powers will each send twenty people, and the remaining ten spots will be fiercely contested by the medium-sized organizations."

"Our Tower will definitely secure those three peak-level liquefaction experts... as for the rest, it all comes down to who has the strongest hand."

"Look, Hogan, the 'Iron Wall' of the Black Tower, has already gone up. Tsk tsk, that defense is simply insane..."

The match just ended, and the Grey Witch won.

Ian followed the gaze.

On the stone platform, a short, stocky man, as solid as an iron block, was enduring three wind blades from his opponent.

His body was covered in a layer of yellowish-brown light that remained perfectly still, and with a backhand punch, he sent his opponent crashing off the stage.

It is indeed solid, but that's all it is.

"Number 17, Ian Marcus."

The referee's voice rang out.

Ian withdrew his gaze and slowly walked onto the stone platform.

Opposite him was a young male wizard in a blue robe, holding an ice crystal staff in his hand, with sharp eyes and a hint of eagerness.

"Please." The other person nodded slightly.

Ian nodded. He didn't have a staff, nor did he strike any pose; he just stood there.

A few low chuckles rang out from the audience.

"Who's this? They didn't even bring their weapons?"

"Probably a newcomer, just here to make up the numbers."

"How long have you been in the lab that you don't even recognize him?"

……

The blue-robed wizard's eyes turned cold, and he slammed his staff on the ground, unleashing a burst of chilling energy.

Ian moved.

He took a half step forward with his left foot, clenched his right fist, and a fleeting, jade-like glow appeared under his skin. His whole body was like a fully drawn bow suddenly released.

Bang!

The stone platform shook.

The blue-robed wizard didn't even see the movement clearly; he only felt a terrifying force strike his protective aura against his chest.

The inspiration shattered like an eggshell, and the person was sent flying backward, crashing off the stage and rolling twice before coming to a stop.

The entire room fell silent.

The referee hesitated for two seconds before raising his hand: "Number 17 wins."

Ian withdrew his fist, stepped off the stage, and looked as calm as if he had just dusted himself off.

The low chuckles from the audience had long since disappeared, and many eyes were now fixed on him, filled with surprise, suspicion, scrutiny, and apprehension.

"Its physical body broke through the protective aura... What kind of monster is this?"

"That was so fast, I didn't even see it..."

Ian ignored the stares and walked to a corner in the shadows to continue watching the competition.

The list was announced at sunset.

Ian's name is seventh, preceded by three veteran wizards at the peak of liquefaction.

"Iron Wall" Hogan, "Mist Blade" Catherine, "Crystal Words" Baal.

The sixteen people behind them were all perfectly formed from mist, each with a solid aura and sharp, razor-sharp eyes.

What Ian was concerned about was that Douglas was also on the list, yet he had escaped unscathed from the previous purge.

Kevin squeezed in, a smile plastered on his face, and lowered his voice.

"Congratulations, Wizard Marcus! I knew you could do it!"

Ian hummed in agreement.

Kevin rubbed his hands together: "That... about the Ghostly Dust in the Underground Palace..."

"If I have any, I'll bring it for you."

"Okay! Okay!"

The atmosphere grew even more somber after the list was finalized.

Twenty people stood in a group, looking each other over, but no one spoke.

The three old wizards leading the group huddled together, talking in hushed tones.

Hogan occasionally glanced in Ian's direction, his gaze scrutinizing, but he didn't say anything.

We set off three days later.

In the darkest hour before dawn, a huge black airship silently landed on the docking pad outside the Shadowmoon Tower.

The hull is made of some kind of matte metal, with flowing runes engraved on its surface.

The bow of the boat is carved with a huge vertical pupil, the pupil gleaming with a ghostly blue light.

The hull is made of some kind of matte metal, with flowing runes engraved on its surface.

The bow of the boat is carved with a huge vertical pupil, the pupil gleaming with a ghostly blue light.

Twenty people boarded the boat one after another.

Ian walked in the middle, and as he stepped onto the gangway, a slight metallic hum came from beneath his feet.

The interior of the submarine was more spacious than it appeared from the outside, and it had two levels. They were led to the lower hall.

Fixed chairs were placed on both sides of the long metal table, and quite a few people were already sitting there.

No one talked much; everyone was busy preparing.

Time flew by, and we arrived at our destination.

Ian followed him out of the airship, his eyes narrowing.

The two teams below are from the Crimson Court and the Withered Council.

The people of the Crimson Court wore dark red robes with a burning crown emblem embroidered on their chests. Most of them had arrogant expressions and undisguised scrutiny in their eyes.

The Withering Council, dressed in gray and black with hoods covering their faces, exuded a cold and deathly aura, sitting there like a row of statues.

The three groups each occupied one side, clearly divided.

The air was so condensed you could wring water out of it.

Ian found a seat in the Shadowmoon area.

The sky was already bright, and the clouds were edged with gold and red.

Gaga moved slightly inside his sleeve.

"So many people... the taste is mixed."

"Stay quiet," Ian muttered to himself.

Hogan stood up, walked to the front of the line, and his voice boomed like a bell.

"Let me briefly explain the rules. The entrance to the underground palace is ahead in the 'Gray Rock Canyon.' Once you arrive, you will enter in batches."

Nobody knows what's going on inside, but remember...

His gaze swept over the crowd, pausing particularly on the Crimson and Withered side.

"Being alive is better than anything else."

No one answered, but many clenched their fists or touched the medicine pouches at their waists.

Ian leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to rest.

Inside his sleeve, his breathing was steady and long.

Suddenly, he noticed at least two scrutinizing, even malicious, gazes.

He raised his head and first looked at the front of the Crimson Court's procession.

A burly man with a majestic physique, exuding a powerful aura of blood, whose number of murders he had killed was unknown.

The man made no attempt to hide his murderous intent as he stared directly at Ian.

Ian chuckled silently.

"Ha! You're so eager to die?"