Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

"Hello, Master Solo." Phil curtsied slightly, giving a standard greeting, his voice clear.

She was also sizing him up; the black-haired young master was taller than she had imagined.

It wasn't the paleness of someone pampered; his skin was a healthy tan from being exposed to the elements, and his eyes were calm.

He possessed a composure beyond his years, but a gentle smile played on his lips, softening the sense of aloofness.

"This is my sister, Phil," Al quickly added, a hint of pride on his face.

"Welcome, Miss Phil."

Solo nodded, his gaze sweeping over her rather thin clothing.

"It's windy outside the city, unlike inside the castle. You should wear more layers."

His concern sounded very natural.

Just then, a serf carrying a large bundle of firewood slipped and was about to fall.

Solo quickly steadied him, took the bundle of firewood, and walked towards a simple charcoal kiln built of earth and stones at the edge of the open space.

Thick smoke was billowing from the kiln, and some fired, shiny black charcoal had already been piled up next to it.

"Young Master Solo, how can we let you do this!" Seeing this, El quickly stepped forward to take over.

Solo waved his hand, indicating that it was alright, and handed the firewood to the old serf in charge of tending the fire.

He then personally scooped out a box of charcoal that had just been extinguished and was still warm from the kiln and handed it to a ragged man next to him.

A peasant woman, shivering from the cold, with two pale and thin children.

"Take it back and light a small charcoal brazier in the tent tonight so the children don't get cold." His voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear.

The peasant woman was taken aback at first, then became so excited that she was at a loss for what to do, and a look of gratitude appeared on her dirty face.

He bowed repeatedly, thanking them incoherently:

"Thank you, young master! Thank you for your great kindness! May the God of the North Wind protect you..."

This scene was witnessed by Phil.

She watched as the peasant woman clutched the box of charcoal tightly, as if it were a lifeline, and hurried away with her child.

Then he looked at the hopeful yet humble eyes of the other poor people queuing around for charcoal.

Then look at Solo's profile as he continues distributing the charcoal, covered in soot, yet seemingly unconcerned.

A certain tension in my heart unconsciously eased a little.

Perhaps, this time, El has really chosen the right person to follow?

This young master did not seem to be the scheming, profit-driven nobleman she had previously imagined.

Solo dusted off his hands, turned to Phil, and smiled apologetically: "My hands are dirty, please excuse me."

Phil pursed his lips, raised his hand, and his slender fingertips traced a simple yet graceful arc in the air.

A faint, milky-white glow bloomed at her fingertip, then shrank to the size of a fingertip.

The exquisitely crafted, pale silver rune phantoms flashed by and disappeared into Solo's clothes.

In an instant, the dust, sawdust, and charcoal ash that clung to Solo's coat and leather armor were swept away as if by an invisible breeze.

They vanished without a trace, and even the texture of the fabric appeared much clearer and cleaner.

Solo looked down at his newly transformed clothes, a perfectly measured expression of surprise and curiosity on his face:

"Is this... witchcraft?"

His tone carried the astonishment often found in mortals when faced with extraordinary power.

Phil withdrew his hand, smiling somewhat sheepishly.

"It's just a very basic magic trick, please excuse my poor performance, young master."

She finally completed the construction of her third basic spirit rune the day before yesterday, officially entering the realm of low-level apprentices.

Excited, she immediately began to try to learn her first practical magic spell—"Purification".

Perhaps it's because the trick itself is simple in structure, or perhaps she does have some talent in the construction of magic and the shaping of energy.

In just two days, I successfully mastered this useful little trick.

Being able to use it at this moment not only relieved the other party's embarrassment but also subtly demonstrated her own abilities, giving her a small sense of accomplishment.

"Is Young Master Solo... making charcoal for these residents?" Phil looked around.

There was more than one charcoal kiln on the open ground, and further away there were several earthen stoves emitting smoke.

Many lightly dressed serfs and refugees lined up in the cold wind to receive charcoal or some hot food.

The order wasn't perfectly organized, but there was a tenacious spirit of struggling to survive and a warm feeling of mutual assistance.

She saw the almost tearful smiles on the faces of those who received the charcoal.

I saw someone carefully tuck their share of black bread into their arms and leave it for the child.

The scene before her was completely different from the aristocratic young master she had imagined.

The idea that "he might really be a kind person" quietly took root in her heart.

This made her nerves, which were originally tense due to unfamiliarity and wariness, relax a lot without her realizing it.

"I'm just doing what I can, doing small things."

Solo gestured for Phil to follow him to the other side of the camp, answering in a casual tone as if discussing the weather.

"The charcoal and coal reserves in the city are prioritized for supplying residents, military camps, and important workshops, but they are still in short supply."

Cargo ships have been running non-stop in Silver Creek Harbor all winter, but there are too many refugees and serfs who are already lacking food and clothing gathered around Wolfsburg.

"During the day it's alright, everyone can manage to get by huddled around the campfire, but at night, without a fire in the tent, you'll really freeze to death."

His words contained no deliberate pity, but rather a calm statement of facts.

They came to a few large earthenware pots placed on a simple stone stove.

The pot was filled with a dark brown broth, and the rich aroma of ginger and herbs mixed with a hint of sweetness wafted out with the steam, dispelling some of the chill.

Several women were stirring with long-handled wooden spoons.

Solo casually picked up two rough earthenware bowls from the stack next to him and rinsed them with hot water.

He ladled two bowls of steaming soup from a pot and handed one to Phil:

"Please don't mind the simple conditions; this is a cold-dispelling soup I made after consulting with a doctor in the city."

It contains some ginger, licorice root, perilla leaves, and a little coarse sugar. Drinking it warms you up and helps prevent colds.

"Thank you." Phil took the slightly chipped ceramic bowl with both hands, feeling its warmth through the bowl's surface.

She looked down at the dark liquid in the bowl, about to take a small sip.

Out of the corner of my eye, I seemed to catch a glimpse of Solo's fingers twitching almost imperceptibly as he handed over the bowl.

A tiny, powdery substance drifted from between his fingers and dissolved into her bowl of soup.

Their movements were extremely fast and their concealment was impeccable.

If Phil hadn't been slightly more perceptive than others due to his entry into the apprentice realm, he would have hardly noticed it.

But she did see it.

However, just as a doubt began to rise in her mind...

Solo had already picked up his bowl and naturally took a big gulp, then seemed to suddenly remember something.