Wizard: My skills can be upgraded indefinitely.

The sky was overcast, and the purple sun hung high in the sky, casting a purple glow over the earth.

Ian stood on a massive, collapsed building, the metal platform beneath his feet rusted away, with sticky fungal carpets hanging from its edges.

These buildings are ingeniously constructed, with superb metal smelting techniques, and some rune grooves can be faintly seen.

The civilization of this world is no less advanced than that of the Xuanhuang world, and in some aspects it is even more outstanding.

Gaa emerged from the shadows, shaking off a palm-sized piece of metal with a ghastly green surface.

"There's not much left inside, only this hasn't been corroded yet."

Ian caught it, and the purifying light swept across the metal, the ghastly green filth disappeared, revealing scattered points of light that covered the entire piece of metal.

He squeezed it a little harder, and it was surprisingly sturdy, without deforming at all.

"This is... astral essence?!"

Astral gold is one of the core materials for building high-level wizard towers, and it is also an extremely rare material in the wizarding world.

Its appearance is easily recognizable, its material is incredibly hard, it can withstand the erosion of void storms, its energy conduction is almost lossless, and it can be infinitely molded... Except for being difficult to collect, it has all the advantages.

"What a pleasant surprise! The civilization of this world must have something unique about it."

Ian closed his eyes slightly, his mental perception enveloping the entire ruins.

The agitation of the aberrant beings, the flow of foul energy, and the tremors deep within the earth were all reflected in my mind.

Unfortunately, no second piece of astral gold was found, and the sensing range continued to expand.

Suddenly, in the southeast, 3,700 kilometers away, a distorted life signal appeared in my perception.

Its strength far surpasses that of a peak level three wizard, roughly equivalent to the early stage of the Morning Star realm.

This was also a gigantic eyeball-shaped creature, over a hundred meters in diameter, suspended in mid-air, surrounded by tens of thousands of humanoid mutants.

They knelt on the ground, bowing in worship to the eyeballs, uttering indistinct roars.

"This world has so many Level 4 mutant beasts..."

Ian opened his eyes, a cold glint in them. It wasn't time to make a move yet.

Next, northeast, southwest, due north...

Within a radius of tens of thousands of miles, seven pollution sources of equal intensity were discovered, maintaining a strange balance among them.

Some are dormant, some are devouring their own kind to evolve, and some, like that eyeball monster, are raising large numbers of mutants and establishing rudimentary and distorted "territories".

"There are quite a few big bugs. Let's figure out this world first."

With a slight thought, the rules of gravity contracted, gathering all the energy within the body.

He needed intelligence—information about how this world had corrupted, about the survivors, about the pre-corruption knowledge legacy of this civilization, and… astral gold.

Ian leaped off the wreckage, his purification domain expanding to a hundred meters, transforming into a blazing white streak that skimmed westward along the earth.

All the pollution that came near was instantly purified, leaving a clean gray-white trail behind it.

An hour later, a distorted mountain range appeared on the horizon ahead.

The mountain's surface is covered with wriggling tumors, and tentacles occasionally peek out from the cracks, greedily capturing spores floating in the air.

More than thirty mutants were fighting at the foot of the mountain, their aura strength equivalent to the peak of a level three wizard, more than five times stronger than the peak of a legendary Xuanhuang.

They tear at their own kind, devouring flesh and blood; with each piece they eat, their filthy energy intensifies.

This is a never-ending evolutionary race.

Ian stopped and looked down a thousand meters below the mountain of flesh, where there was a faint aura that did not belong to the mutant beasts.

It scurried out of the shadows, its pupils flashing with a predatory glint.

Ian chuckled. "Want to stretch your legs?"

The little guy nodded vigorously, and its body instantly expanded, transforming into a Shadow Night Harrier with a wingspan of 100 meters.

The mutants sensed the unfamiliar presence and stopped fighting.

More than thirty twisted heads turned around in unison, purple flames flickering in their eye sockets—a greedy craving for fresh flesh.

The next moment, they let out a piercing shriek and pounced on Ian and Gaga.

Ian flicked his finger, and the thirty-odd mutants that were charging forward suddenly froze.

The bones of the first few mutated beasts shattered instantly, dark purple blood gushing from their seven orifices, and humanoid terror appeared on their faces.

Boo!

With a sharp screech, it transformed into a black lightning bolt, its claws tearing through the air and easily piercing the head of a mutant, before ripping it off.

His entire head was forcibly ripped off, and dark purple brain matter splattered all over the ground.

Other aberrations roared angrily, but could not break free from the grip of gravity.

Gaga weaved through the herd of beasts, tearing apart a body with each claw strike. Soon, only broken limbs and severed bodies remained at the foot of the mountain.

Gaga shrank back to Ian's shoulder and contentedly preened its feathers.

Ian's gaze fell to the ground, his sense of gravity extending and spreading thousands of meters underground.

There were no distorted, filthy fluctuations from underground, only the faint heartbeat of a human being.

"A survivor's gathering place."

Ian strode toward the mountains, and the ground beneath his feet parted automatically, forming a downward-sloping passage.

The lower you go, the more murky the air becomes, filled with a strong, putrid odor mixed with the scent of some kind of herbal medicine.

One hundred meters underground, traces of artificial excavation began to appear in the rock strata.

Rough chisel marks, rudimentary support structure, and directional markers smeared with fluorescent moss.

At 500 meters, the passage became more orderly, with metal-reinforced walls appearing on both sides. Although severely rusted, they still revealed some of the technological level of world civilizations.

Ian also saw an air purifier.

Every fifty meters, a metal box about half a person's height is embedded in the wall, its surface covered with pipes and filters.

A faint humming sound emanated from inside the box, drawing in polluted air from the ground, filtering it through multiple layers, and then expelling only barely breathable air.

The filtration efficiency is very low, and the purified air still has a light purple tint, only reduced to a level where the toxicity is not immediately fatal, but enough for humans to survive.

After descending one thousand meters underground, at the end was a heavy metal gate.

The door panel was cast from some kind of alloy, its surface covered with scratches and dents, and its edges were painted with twisted runes.

Ian glanced at it and could roughly tell that it was a simple ritual to expel impurities.

Faint voices came from behind the door: suppressed conversation, low coughs, and the weak cries of a baby.

With a slight thought, the law of gravity gently pushed, and the metal gate, weighing tens of tons, slid open silently.

……

As usual, Aya carried her bone lamp and skillfully entered the seventh tunnel.

The light danced on the rock face, casting a long, thin shadow.

She had walked this path for three years, and she knew exactly where to duck and where to turn with her eyes closed.

The sparse, glowing moss on the rock face emitted a faint green light that was not as bright as the lamp in her hand.

The lamp was burning oilworm fat, which had a strange, foul smell, but there was no other way; anything that could be burned underground had to be conserved.

This lamp is only used for one hour a day, and can only be used when collecting mushrooms.

At the end of the tunnel is a natural cave, which was expanded into a mushroom cultivation room three years ago.

It was called a cultivation room, but it was really just a few trenches dug in the ground, filled with rotten wood chips and artificial fertilizer. Grayish-white mycelium crawled everywhere, and the whole cave was shrouded in a gray haze.

And that musty, sour smell in the air—Aya had long since become numb to it.

She crouched down, knees on the hard stone ground, and began to check the mushroom caps that could be harvested today.

Carefully parting the mycelial layer with my fingers, one, two... seventeen mycelia.

The largest one was only the size of her palm; its grayish cap was already curled at the edges, and it would rot if it wasn't picked soon.

She moved very gently, pinching off the mushroom stem with her fingernail and putting it into the wicker basket on her back.

"Mushrooms are timid; they grow slowly if startled." That's what the leader taught her.

No one knows whether mushrooms are timid or not, but Aya did as she was told. Underground, any rule that allows for the growth of more food must be followed.

She turned the sawdust over to let the mycelium underneath breathe.

She frowned as her fingers touched the damp, cold, decaying layer, a familiar itch spreading across the back of her hand.

Dark purple lines writhe on the skin, like worms crawling inside.

This is pollution; it's been there since I can remember, and everyone has it.

In mild cases, it only causes itching; in severe cases, it can ulcerate, ooze pus, and eventually lead to death.

Last month, Old Moken from the neighboring village died just like that. For the three days before he passed away, the entire settlement smelled foul.

Aya scratched the back of her hand and continued to turn over the mushrooms. There were three or four other women in the cultivation room, all of whom were familiar faces.

No one spoke, no one laughed. In the underground, laughter was a luxury; it took effort and didn't even bring food.

She sometimes wondered if people in the past laughed every day.

The chief said that people used to have something called "festivals," where they didn't have to work all day and just ate, drank, and had fun.

She knows about food and drink; she makes mushroom soup, and occasionally there's rat meat as a treat—that's when it's a holiday.

But what is "play"? She couldn't figure it out.

It's like children chasing and playing in a cave? But you'll get scolded for that, and if you sweat from running around, you'll get sick, and if you get sick, you'll die.

After harvesting the mushrooms, Aya carried her basket on her back and walked back. Occasionally, the rocks on the ground would prick her feet, but she was used to it.

As she passed the main cave of the settlement, she saw several people surrounding the chief's cave entrance; they were members of the guard.

They usually guard the main passage leading to the outside world and rarely come back, but now they are gathered here, and their faces are all grim.

Someone was speaking in a low voice, but Aya had excellent hearing.

She slowed her pace and strained her ears.

"……ground……"

"...Someone actually came down..."

"...It's different, completely different..."

The ground? Someone came down from the ground?

Aya stood frozen in place, the rattan on her back suddenly making her chest feel tight.

How could there be people on the surface? It's full of poison gas, mutated beasts, and dead people... These are the words we've heard since childhood, etched into the memories of every child underground.

Who dares to go to the surface? Who can survive there?

As she was thinking, the curtain at the chief's cave entrance was suddenly flung open.

A woman rushed out, her face deathly pale, but her voice shrill and piercing: "Everyone! Assemble immediately! The leader summons you!"

The settlement was in an uproar.

About three hundred people emerged from various caves, mostly the elderly, women, and children, their faces filled with bewilderment and fear.

The last time we gathered was six months ago, when a cave-in occurred next door, killing seven people.

Aya put down her basket and followed the crowd toward the main cave.

The main cave is the largest, large enough to hold everyone. A dozen torches are stuck in the rock walls, and the crackling sound of burning grease mixed with the gasps of the crowd makes the air even more stuffy.

Aya was short, so she squeezed through the crowd to the front, standing on tiptoe...

The leader stood at the very front, his wrinkled face trembling violently in the firelight.

Behind him... there was someone, no, that wasn't a person.

They are at least not people from underground.

The person was wearing clothes she had never seen before, shimmering with dazzling gold, without a speck of dust.

The people underground don't have such clean clothes. Everyone's clothes are made of tattered cloth, patched upon patched, so dirty that you can't even tell the original color.

But that person had none of that; there wasn't even a wrinkle.

The person was just standing there, and the air around them seemed to smell better.

This was not an illusion; Aya saw that when the torchlight shone on him, the floating dust seemed to swirl around him.

She instinctively took a deep breath, then froze, gripped by that smell…

The air underground is always pungent and stuffy, with a musty and urine-like smell, and your throat will get dry after breathing it for a while.

But the air around this person was different; it smelled wonderful and was very clean.

Yes, that's the feeling.

Like that time she secretly drank the water from the bottom of the water tank. Although it had a rusty taste, it was much better than the usual murky water.

This refreshing scent is countless times cleaner than the water.

She took just one breath, and suddenly felt a corner of the pent-up frustration in her chest, which had been building up for twelve years, dissipate.

So this is what air can be like.

"This...this...this lord came from the ground, he wants to give us..." the leader began, his body trembling.

Before he could finish speaking, the person in the gold clothes raised his hand.

Aya saw a faint golden light emanating from his fingertips, very weak and soft, like the faint glow of an oilworm's tail, yet different.

There was something in the golden light that she couldn't understand, which reminded her of the "sun" the leader had mentioned.

The light spread, turning into a pale golden mist, and then into rain, falling on everyone's skin.

First, it felt hot, like being soaked in warm water, and then it itched.

It wasn't the usual annoying itch; it was a tingling, numbing itch that seemed to burrow out from under the skin.

Aya looked down and saw the "earthworm" on the back of her hand that had been with her for twelve years. Suddenly, it began to wriggle, as if a living creature was trying to escape.

But they couldn't escape; washed away by the pale golden rain, they turned into wisps of black smoke and vanished without a trace.

Aya took another breath, and tears rolled down her cheeks without warning.

She had lived for twelve years and for the first time realized that the world could be clean and that breathing could be so easy.

A collective gasp filled the air, followed by suppressed sobs, and someone knelt down and began to kowtow…

"A miracle..." the leader murmured, "This is a miracle..."

Aya didn't kneel. She raised her head and stared blankly at the person.

The person remained standing there, expressionless, as if they had only done something insignificant.

Aya looked into his eyes, those eyes... she didn't know how to describe them.

Unlike the eyes of the underground people, which are cloudy and covered with a layer of gray, making everything they see look tired and numb.

But her eyes were clear, like the sky of the world below in her imagination, even though she had never seen the sky.

She suddenly remembered the words the leader had said, words she had always taken as mere ramblings.

"The sun in the sky is red, and it feels warm on my body."

"The air is sweet; a single breath brings a sweet sensation from your throat down to your stomach."

Aya couldn't have imagined it before.

But now, looking at this person, at his eyes, and at the pale golden mist surrounding him...

She suddenly realized that light really exists, and that cleanliness can really be smelled, touched, and breathed.

Tears welled up again, and this time she couldn't hold back and began to sob softly.

It wasn't sadness, it wasn't pain, it was an emotion she couldn't describe.

It's like something that's been bottled up for twelve years has finally found an outlet.

"The red sun rose in the sky, and it shone brightly everywhere."