Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

As the "Rogue" followed the pilot boat and slowly entered the vast waters of Emerald Island's main harbor, surrounded by towering breakwaters.

Even with Solo's experience of three lifetimes and his worldly wisdom, his pupils couldn't help but contract slightly, and a mixture of shock, surprise, and high vigilance quietly rose within him.

This place is a completely different world from the fjord islands where he departed, and even the islands that he passed through during the voyage, which still retain their pastoral or medieval features.

A violent and strange mixed scent wafted towards them—

The cold hardness of steel, the scorching heat of steam, the roughness of coal, the salty smell of seawater, the cacophony of goods, and an omnipresent, low-pitched, magical hum.

They churned together roughly, forming a wind with real weight that oppressed the senses of the visitors.

The first thing to conquer the eye is the slow-moving steel behemoth in the sky above the port area—the steam airship.

They were not the fragile balloons Solo imagined, but enormous creatures with streamlined metal frames and covered in dark tannins, comparable in size to large sailboats.

On both sides of the ship, the multi-layered, enormous metal rotors did not rotate at a uniform speed, but instead stirred the air with a rhythmic, embedded, blue light that emitted and dissipated runes, emitting a low and continuous "hum-boom-" sound that was a mixture of magic and machinery.

The thick copper pipe at the tail periodically spews out columns of pure white, scorching steam tens of meters long, drawing brief but spectacular trails across the azure sky, like the long, drawn-out breath of a giant beast.

Some of these airships are descending from the clouds, precisely docking with the exceptionally tall mooring towers at the edge of the harbor, equipped with complex mechanical arms and stabilizing magical auras.

Some had just taken off, leaving steam trails as they headed towards the depths of the island or the open sea, merging into the pale gray industrial clouds that perpetually shrouded the island.

Moving the gaze downwards, beside the deep-water pier, several ironclad warships, their hulls covered in thick, riveted steel plates and their lines rugged and menacing, crouched like sleeping metal beasts.

Short, stubby gun barrels protrude from the turrets, their dark muzzles indifferently pointing towards the sea. Although the multiple smokestacks are still, they still emit a thick smell of smoke. The bridge is covered with a complex array of observation equipment and antennas.

In comparison, the numerous traditional wooden sailboats in the harbor appear so "classical" and tiny.

On the dock, it is a dance of power.

The towering gantry crane is not powered by human or animal force; its steel frame turns amidst the clanging and hissing of gears and chains, and its thick steam pipes connect to the boiler.

Providing seemingly inexhaustible power, it easily lifts, moves, and places tons of containers or bulk cargo on ocean-going vessels.

The porters no longer pushed simple wooden carts, but rather iron-framed trolleys equipped with ball bearings, which were much easier to maneuver, and they moved in an endless stream across the wide docks paved with gravel or hardwood.

The air vibrated slightly due to the simultaneous operation of countless steam engines, causing it to heat up.

However, this steampunk-style painting is also adorned with magical touches.

Solo's keen intuition was able to clearly perceive:

The simple runes embedded in the critical bearings of those cranes, emitting a faint blue light to lubricate and reduce friction, and the cold, luminous crystals wrapped in a copper wire network inside the lampshades, instead of gas flames, provide stable illumination.

Rotating atop the harbor lighthouse is a complex array of crystal lenses, whose light seems to possess a magical power to penetrate the fog.

Some of the people dressed in uniform, who appeared to be port management personnel, were not holding paper and pens, but rather thin plates that shimmered with runic light and seemed capable of recording and displaying information.

The pedestrians were a bizarre mix.

Dockworkers, shirtless and covered in sweat and oil, and gentlemen and ladies, wearing top hats, well-tailored dark suits or elaborate long skirts, hurrying along.

A wizard apprentice wearing a cloak with an emblem, with an indifferent expression, and surrounded by a faint spiritual field or magical fluctuations.

There were also public officials dressed in military-like uniforms but with unusual designs and carrying strange instruments, as well as sailors and merchants of various skin colors shouting orders...

Solo even saw non-humans with pointed ears, slightly blue skin, or unusually short and stocky builds coexisting, intertwining, and bustling about in this strange place.

The clamor almost solidified into a tangible force: the sounds of negotiations, shouts, steam whistles, the roar of machinery, the rumble of wheels... all blended into a never-ending symphony of industrial-magical city.

In the distance, the city stretches upwards along the mountainside.

More towering chimneys pierced the low-lying clouds, spewing out black smoke or white vapor; uniquely styled buildings stood side by side, combining brick and steel, with huge glass windows reflecting the sunlight.

Steam-powered vehicles, trailing white smoke, rattled along the crisscrossing tracks. Higher up, the spires of towers could be faintly seen, emitting constant magical light of different colors—perhaps the locations of academies, research institutes, or important organizations.

"This is... Emerald Isle." Solo took a deep breath of the air, which was filled with metal, magic and ambition, and the curiosity in his eyes was quickly replaced by a calm scrutiny.

The rules here are far more complex than those of the Xuanhuang Realm and the Human Realm in my previous life.

Compared to the human world, where productivity remains at the agricultural level due to the dwindling spiritual energy, this place is indeed closer to the scene of Earth.

Opportunities here may be hidden in any corner, while the dangers here are undoubtedly more profound and diverse.

Wizarding academies, vast knowledge, advanced resources, fertile ground for cultivating power... anything is possible, but every step must be taken with caution.

He gently adjusted the seemingly ordinary but actually intricately designed bag on his back, his fingers brushing against the cool hilt of the longsword with its runes subtly concealed.

The spiritual power of the eighth level of Qi Refining circulated smoothly within his body, and his spiritual sense, like invisible tentacles, cautiously perceived the torrent of information around him.

Step down the gangway of the "Wanderer" and onto the cold, solid pier floor of Emerald Island, built of massive granite.

Solo knew that he needed to temporarily conceal his identity as a sea raider.

A new identity, new challenges, a new hunt—perhaps in a completely different form—officially unfolds within the maw of this behemoth where steam and runes dance wildly.

"Captain Barton," he turned and said to the old captain who had seen him off, "the final payment has been settled. Thank you for your hard work these past few days."

Perhaps... we'll have the opportunity to collaborate again in the future.

Captain Barton, his one eye gleaming, bowed respectfully with his hand on his chest: "At your service, Mr. Solo. Best wishes for your stay on Emerald Isle."

Solo nodded slightly, said no more, turned and merged into the surging crowd at the harbor, his figure quickly swallowed up by the complex colors, sounds and atmosphere of Emerald Island.

Ahead lies unfathomable prosperity, but also a labyrinth fraught with peril.

The journey is long, but this is the beginning of a new chapter.