Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

Phil's empty eyes seemed to be injected with vitality, instantly regaining their clarity.

She blinked, looked around somewhat blankly, and then looked at Solo, who was throwing a throwing knife at a makeshift target inside the tent.

My mind went blank, as if I had briefly lost my memory.

"What's wrong?" Solo asked without turning his head, flicking his wrist, and another throwing knife landed steadily next to the bullseye.

"I..." Phil rubbed his temples, his face showing confusion and apology.

"Excuse me, Master Solo, I think I just... drifted off for a moment, and might even have dozed off. What were you saying just now?"

She only remembered that she drank tea and had a pleasant conversation with Master Solo.

Then, for some reason, I became disoriented, and there was a period of time when my memory was hazy.

Solo retrieved the throwing knives from the target, turned around, and wore a slightly apologetic expression of being ignored:

"It's nothing, just some crude tricks of wielding swords. It seems it won't attract our future witch lady. Mortal skills are ultimately not worthy of our attention."

He shrugged, his tone relaxed, but there seemed to be a hint of disappointment in his eyes, as if he had been neglected.

Phil's face flushed red, and he hurriedly waved his hands to explain:

"No, no! Master Solo, I absolutely didn't mean that! I might have been..."

"I'm so sorry, I've been spending a lot of time building runes and learning magic lately, which has taken a toll on my mental energy!"

She was filled with remorse, realizing that she had lost her composure during such an important meeting.

It's incredibly rude of them to cause such a misunderstanding.

Solo noncommittally twirled the throwing knife in his hand, then sheathed it, his tone becoming indifferent:

"It's alright. It's getting late, you should head back too."

He paused, looked at Phil, and his voice returned to its previous calmness.

"I'll keep an eye on things with El. As long as I'm in Wolf City, he'll have a peaceful life. You can rest assured."

The meaning behind those words couldn't be clearer—the meeting could end, and the promises had been made.

Phil understood the intention to see the guest out, and felt even more guilty and uneasy.

She quickly stood up, hurriedly straightened her shawl and coat, and bowed deeply to Solo.

The tone was sincere and urgent:

"I apologize again for my rudeness earlier, Master Solo. Please take good care of El..."

Phil will forever remember this kindness, and if he makes even the slightest progress on the path of wizardry in the future, he will surely repay it.

Solo simply nodded and said nothing more.

Phil felt a mix of emotions—gratitude for Solo's "kindness" and "generosity."

Shame for his own rudeness, and joy for his brother's future.

And a vague, inexplicable sense of loss, as if he had messed up this important meeting.

Phil left the warm military tent and stepped back into the cold wind outside the city.

Inside the tent, Solo stood alone on the sheepskin rug, listening to the footsteps fading into the distance outside.

He slowly walked back to the wooden box, his fingers brushing over the stack of papers that recorded the secrets of the "Radiant Moon Meditation Method".

His cold gaze held none of the gentleness he had shown moments before, only a bottomless darkness and the calm of someone whose plan had succeeded.

"Rewards?"

The subtle sound of the curtains falling completely shut out the light and noise from the outside world.

The warm tent returned to silence, with only the occasional soft crackling of the fire.

Solo remained standing in the same spot, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the rough texture of the wooden box's edge.

There seemed to be some unique tactile sensation remaining on it.

He whispered the girl's sincere yet innocent parting words, a slight smile involuntarily curving his lips.

That arc was neither joy nor mockery, but a mixture of cold detachment and worldly-wise sarcasm.

It was as if I had heard an extremely distant and childish joke.

"I'm afraid," he said in a very soft voice, like a sigh, yet with an unwavering certainty, "you won't have that chance."

This was not a malicious curse, nor did it mean that he had secretly used some insidious method like "Seven-Day Death Powder" on Phil—that would be too low-level and unnecessary.

Solo's actions were guided by his own principles and also by his own arrogance.

For a girl who had just stepped into the world of wizardry, whose future was uncertain, and who in a sense "helped" him.

He wouldn't stoop to such despicable methods to prematurely eliminate an entity that might not pose any threat at all.

The coldness in his words stemmed from a deeper, more fundamental belief, a philosophy of survival almost etched into his soul.

He, Solo, or rather Lin Mu, fundamentally did not believe in or rely on anyone's "help".

His past experiences had already ingrained this ironclad rule into his very bones.

He had witnessed the fragility of promises in the face of self-interest, felt the corruption of goodwill under the heavy pressure of reality, and walked a long, lonely path.

Countless times, it has been proven that the only things that will never betray you are the power you control and your meticulously planned schemes.

Help from others? That might just be icing on the cake.

But it should never be a source of help in times of need, much less an indispensable cornerstone on his path forward.

To place one's hopes on the gratitude or reward of others is tantamount to handing over the reins of one's destiny to others, which is the greatest folly and irresponsibility.

In his eyes, Phil's promise of "repayment in the future" was no different from a child's joke, "I'll earn money to support you when I grow up."

It is filled with kindness yet is illusory, and is subject to too many uncontrollable variables.

Could she survive in the harsh environment of Emerald Academy? How far could she go?

After she gained power, insight, and a new network of interests.

How much of this gratitude, which originated in humble times and was built on the foundation of a friendly meeting, will remain?

Not to mention, Solo's path to rise was destined to be fraught with thorns and secrets.

How could one possibly entrust their plans and security to the vague and uncertain "rewards" of a "beneficiary" they designed and kept in the dark?

His path must be forged by his own strength, paved with his own wisdom, and guaranteed by his absolute control.

He will obtain, fight for, and scheme for everything he needs himself, just as he did this time in acquiring the meditation method.

"Help" from others, whether it is given voluntarily or passively.

In his meticulous plan, they were all merely "factors" or "resources" to be utilized, rather than "dependencies" to be relied upon.

He would rather endure the myriad dangers of climbing alone than be subject to any possibility of being controlled by others.

This almost obsessive confidence and independence is the core of all his actions.

Therefore, he found Phil's sincere promises naive and distant.

He doesn't need anyone else's opportunity, because he himself is the only opportunity.