Wizard: My skills can be upgraded indefinitely.

This planet is called Xuanhuang Star.

Two hundred years ago, it was a world without any supernatural powers.

Until... Xuanhuang Star and another otherworldly realm, completely corrupted by the abyss, met in the void.

This is not a collision at the physical level, but a fusion at the level of rules.

The boundary between the two worlds shattered at the point of impact, creating countless spatial rifts of varying sizes.

Humans call it the "Abyssal Rift".

These fissures, like living wounds, slowly expand, continuously injecting pollution from the opposite side into them.

It is said that there are no normal living beings in the other world.

Only corrupted relatives, mutated monsters, evil creatures, and human traitors and blood sacrifice cults who have sided with the abyss.

Driven by an instinct to devour life and pollute the world, they have never stopped impacting the rift for two hundred years.

In the early stages of the fusion of the two worlds, the Xuanhuang World suffered enormous losses, and ordinary armies and firepower were completely unable to stop these mutated monsters.

During the crisis, the Great Yan Kingdom, where Wei Song lived, released more than fifty giant mushrooms in one go.

They wiped out all the invading monsters and drove them back to the rift.

Humanity calls this year the first year of the Great Cataclysm.

In the same year, the world's first superhuman appeared in the Great Yan Dynasty.

From that moment on, humanity embarked on a magnificent evolutionary journey across the entire planet Xuanhuang.

From that time on, every child in the Xuanhuang World would undergo a standardized ability test before enrolling in school.

The test results will determine their future path.

Those with special abilities enter the Special Abilities Academy to learn how to control and develop their abilities.

However, the awakening rate of superpowers is still too low.

According to official statistics, only one in 500 people might become an awakened individual.

Those without special abilities can only apply to ordinary universities, learn cultural knowledge, and then take up the most basic jobs after graduation.

In theory, everyone has innate special abilities, but not everyone can awaken them.

Wei Song is the latter.

His test results showed that he had no special abilities.

Therefore, he could only attend an ordinary junior college and study an ordinary major.

After graduation, I faced setbacks in the job market.

No one knew that he actually possessed a high-potential superpower called "thermal energy control".

It just lacks a "key," a key that is strong enough to stimulate it.

Now, the key has finally arrived.

On the verge of death, in a desperate situation where the soul is ripped out... and then there's the awakening of the panel.

"Now, I'm a superhuman too, but the price... is a bit high."

Wei Song raised his head and glanced at the rescued people.

They were still looking at him, their eyes filled with gratitude, curiosity, and... a touch of natural respect.

After all, he was already a noble Awakened One, and he had just killed nine people.

Although they were cult members, the act of killing itself was enough to terrify ordinary people.

Wei Song didn't look any further and turned to walk towards the exit of the underground space.

This is a narrow and steep stone staircase leading upwards into the wilderness.

"Wait, wait a minute!"

A young girl's voice came from behind.

The voice was very soft, filled with hesitation and fear.

Wei Song paused for a moment, but did not turn around.

"Aren't you...aren't you going to wait for the officials to come?" the girl mustered her courage and continued.

"They...they should be here soon. You've saved so many people, they'll definitely reward you..."

Wei Song still did not respond, and continued to climb the stone steps, his figure quickly disappearing around the corner.

Only silence remained behind him, along with the complex gazes of the thirty-seven rescued individuals.

Stepping out of the underground, one finds oneself in a desolate wilderness.

The night wind was strong, rustling through the waist-high weeds.

The moon hung overhead, casting its cool, silvery light.

In the distance, the city lights stretched out in a continuous expanse, like a galaxy fallen to the ground.

That place is Jiangzhou City, the capital of Jiangnan Province, a megacity with a population of over ten million.

There are thirty-six such megacities in Da Yan.

This planet is also much larger than the blue planet of my previous life.

Wei Song took a deep breath.

The night breeze was cool, carrying the scent of weeds and earth, filling my lungs.

But the warm, orange-red current in his chest continued to circulate slowly, radiating a steady warmth that dispelled the chill of the night wind.

He walked for a while in the wilderness and found a relatively clean stone slab to sit on.

The stone slab was cold, but it warmed up with body heat after sitting on it for a short time.

"It's time to sort out my memories."

He closed his eyes and reached out to touch the remaining fragments of memory.

It was like opening a door that had been sealed for a long time.

Memories flood back like a tide, no longer scattered images, but a coherent story imbued with emotion.

After graduation, Wei Song rented a small, dilapidated single room of 10 square meters in an urban village on the outskirts of Jiangzhou City. The monthly rent was 800 yuan, with a deposit of one month's rent and three months' rent paid in advance.

The room was small; it contained a bed, a table, and a simple wardrobe, leaving little room for anything else.

The table was piled high with printed resumes, some of which were curled up from being flipped through so many times.

I graduated from junior college three months ago with a major in "marketing," a major that sounds trendy but is actually not very useful.

I sent out hundreds of resumes, but the vast majority of them were read but not replied to.

I sent out hundreds of resumes, but the vast majority of them were read but not replied to.

For the few interviews I had, I squeezed onto the subway during rush hour, wearing the only decent outfit I had, and answered the questions with trepidation.

And then... it vanished without a trace.

Wei Song suddenly thought of something and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

The most recent read message on my phone was sent by my mom three days ago.

He tapped the button gently, and a familiar voice rang out.

"Xiaosong, have you found a job yet? Do you have enough money? Don't overwork yourself, and don't put too much pressure on yourself..."

Wei Song didn't reply to the message before, perhaps because he didn't know how to reply.

He remained silent for a long time, and he understood the original owner's thoughts.

Should I say, "Mom, I've sent out a hundred resumes and haven't received a single response"?

Should I say, "Mom, I only have two hundred dollars left, and I don't even know where I'll get the rent for next month?"

The original owner dared not return.

Wei Song stared at the message for a long time before turning off the screen.

He recalled his original home, Xiongshi County, a small county in Jiangnan Province.

The narrow streets are lined with various food stalls.

My dad often pushes a dilapidated tricycle with a stove and pots on it.

His body was hunched over, his hair was gray, and he looked over sixty years old despite being only in his early fifties.

The boxes on the truck, filled with ingredients, were heavier than him, but he always gritted his teeth and kept quiet, just carrying them silently.

My mom gets up at four o'clock every morning.

Her hands were covered in cracks, some of which were oozing blood. They were chilblains from washing vegetables in cold water during the winter, and they hadn't fully healed by the summer.

She kneaded the dough vigorously, preparing to sell steamed buns and mantou at her stall.

The dim light illuminated her hunched back, casting a long shadow on the wall.

He also has an older brother.

Four years ago, my brother happened to be passing by when an attack was launched by cult members and got caught up in it.

The attack killed seventeen people, and my brother was the most seriously injured of the survivors.

He survived, but lost both legs.

From then on, he could only sit in a wheelchair, looking out the window for most of the day.

He didn't speak, didn't complain, but his eyes grew more and more gloomy each day.

Like a stagnant pool, it can no longer stir up any waves.

Thinking of this, Wei Song stood up, took a long breath, and relieved the depression in his heart.

No wonder the original owner of this body would make a wish on any being in the void when she was in despair.

"Without you, this family has no hope left."

As for relatives and friends, don't count on them at all.

He recalled that during last year's Chinese New Year, a group of relatives had a meal together.

At the dinner table, my second aunt's sharp face came closer, her voice shrill and piercing.

"Oh dear, what's the use of sending someone to college? They still can't find a job."

"My son Haoming started working in a factory right after graduating from junior high school. He earns 8,000 yuan a month now, with room and board included, and a year-end bonus!"

"If you ask me, reading too much just makes you all talk and no action..."

My mother forced a smile and tried to smooth things over, saying, "The child is still young, there's no rush."

Dad lowered his head and ate the rice in his bowl without saying a word, just gripping his chopsticks tightly.

In the corner, the older brother sat in a wheelchair, his legs covered by a blanket, motionless.

No one approached him to speak, as if he didn't exist.

When I got home that evening, my father coughed for a long time in the inner room.

The muffled, suppressed cough was particularly clear in the quiet night.

Before leaving, his mother secretly slipped him a photo.

It was taken on Chinese New Year's Day. My parents were standing in front of a food stall, wearing greasy aprons, their faces full of wrinkles from smiling.

The older brother sat in a wheelchair with an old blanket draped over his legs, and tried his best to smile at the camera.

On the back of the photo, he wrote three words in a crooked hand with a ballpoint pen.

To prove someone wrong.

The writing was done with such force that it almost tore through the photographic paper.

It's as if all the strength in my body was used to carve all my hopes and resentment into it.

The tide of memories reaches its peak here, and then slowly recedes.

Only a heavy feeling remained, pressing down on my chest.

Wei Song opened his eyes, and the warm sensation in his chest trembled slightly.

It was as if it was responding to his emotions.

He looked down at his hands, his eyes gradually brightening.

The moment the contract was signed, he promised "Wei Song" that he would live on for him.

I helped my mom knead dough at four in the morning; her hands were covered in cracks.

For my dad, whose back hurt so badly he couldn't straighten up, yet he gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound.

For my brother who sits in a wheelchair and whose eyes grow more and more dejected each day.

Live well, live better, and don't let others down.

He stood up and dusted off his trousers.

"Then... live well!"

The city lights in the distance grew brighter and brighter, as if beckoning.

Wei Song started walking back, but after a few steps he suddenly stopped and looked at the underground entrance ahead.

The night was deep, and the entrance was half-hidden by weeds, making it difficult to see clearly.

But Wei Song knew that the thirty-seven rescued people should have already come out.

Officials have probably arrived and are handling the situation and registering information.

How would they describe themselves?

What is the official attitude towards such grassroots awakening individuals as him? How are they treated?

"Yes, joining the official Great Yan organization is a good choice right now."

First, make contact with other superhumans in this world, understand the rules of this world, and improve the strength of this body.

Wei Song withdrew his gaze and waited quietly in place.

The night wind was cool, blowing on my face with the roughness unique to the wilderness.

The warm current in my chest was flowing slowly, radiating a steady warmth.

Like a tiny sun, sleeping inside the body.

It's like a seed, waiting in the dark soil for the day it sprouts.

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