Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

Solo changed into an inconspicuous old cloth outfit, concealing all his extraordinary aura and qualities.

Like a slightly clean and down-on-his-luck traveler who accidentally wandered into this place, I walked steadily on this land abandoned by civilization.

His gaze swept calmly over the faces that had been etched with coal dust, sweat stains, disease, and profound suffering, leaving them dull or grotesque.

Like the most patient hunter, meticulously selecting prey that might meet the requirements.

A suppressed, tearful plea and a rude, overbearing shout led him to a slightly wider open space piled with discarded gears, broken pipes, and unidentified metal parts.

This place resembles a small garbage dump. In front of a dilapidated shack with a crooked wooden sign that reads "Jason's Grocery Store and Cheap Medicines," a few sallow-faced, vacant-eyed onlookers form a loose and indifferent semicircle.

In the open space, a gaunt, middle-aged man with graying, matted hair was being held down by two burly men wearing greasy, reflective leather aprons in the muddy sewage.

The man's forehead was bruised and purple, and his mouth was split open, with blood seeping out mixed with mud. But his withered, chicken-claw-like fingers gripped a filthy little cloth bag tightly like iron hooks, his knuckles turning pale from the force.

A bald man with a red, bulbous nose, also wearing a dirty apron, was repeatedly stomping on the back of the man's hand with the heavy sole of his boot.

In his other hand he held a heavy machete used for handling animal bones or hard debris, the blade still stained with dark dirt.

"White! You leech! You really think my shop is some free charity?"

The bald foreman Jason was spitting everywhere, the smell of cheap alcohol mixed with the stench of his breath, almost spraying onto White's face.

"The 'cough suppressant powder' you stole this time! Let me tell you straight, it's mixed with genuine alchemical residue! The cost alone is enough to buy ten of your worthless lives!"

Even if you were dismantled and sold as fuel in a factory, it wouldn't be enough to cover the losses! If I don't leave those thieving hands of yours behind today, I'll change my surname to yours!

The cloth bundle was roughly ripped open by a burly man, revealing several packages wrapped in the cheapest, almost oily, grayish-brown paper, emitting a pungent, strange smell.

A grayish-brown powder, smelling like mold mixed with some kind of pungent chemical, scattered out and fell into the muddy water.

"No! Mr. Jason! Please! Please! This is the last time, I swear it's really the last time! Amy... she coughed so hard she almost passed out!"

His whole body was burning hot, he was barely clinging to life... this was all he was holding on to! I'll be your slave, I'll be your servant for this life and the next, I beg you..."

The man named White's voice was hoarse and cracked like a broken bellows, and tears mixed with blood and cement slurry rolled down his face.

The desperate wail seemed to come not from the throat, but from the deepest part of the heart about to shatter, filled with the last madness of a drowning person.

"What's your daughter's life worth? Rules are rules! Break the rules, and blood will be shed!" Manager Jason's fleshy face twitched as he grinned maliciously, then, without another word, raised the heavy machete high in his hand.

Against the dim, perpetually poor lighting of the rusty area, the blade flashed a chilling arc of light, poised to strike with deadly force!

How much does he owe you?

A voice, so steady it was almost abrupt, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, rang out in this scene filled with violence and despair, shattering the impending bloodshed with crystal clarity.

Everyone instinctively looked in the direction of the sound and saw a person with an ordinary face and old but unusually neat clothes.

The young man, who seemed out of place in this environment, had quietly stood on the edge of the crowd.

He wasn't standing close, and his figure was even somewhat thin, but his unusual calmness made the surrounding polluted air seem to freeze.

Manager Jason squinted his eyes, which were squeezed into narrow slits by his fat, and scanned Solo up and down as if he were appraising merchandise.

He looked at the calm face through the worn-out clothes, then let out a sneer filled with disdain and mockery:

"Where did this greenhorn come from? Trying to play the hero? One gold coin! Not a penny less! Pay up, and you can take him with you."

"If you don't have money, then get the hell out of here and don't fucking get in my way of cleaning up the trash!"

Solo showed no sign of anger or embarrassment.

He didn't even glance at Manager Jason, his gaze merely sweeping calmly over the trembling White on the ground, before his fingers seemingly casually flicked and prodded at his waist.

A golden arc of light flashed by.

"bite--"

With a crisp, pleasant metallic clang, a standard gold coin bearing the official Emerald City emblem, with clear edges and a pure luster was struck.

It spun precisely and landed on a relatively dry, hard patch of ground near Manager Jason's feet, even embedding itself slightly in the soil, standing upright with the emblem facing upwards.

That dazzling gold, even in the dim light, instantly captured Jason's attention.

The fat on his face twitched excitedly, and greed almost spilled out of his small eyes.

He shoved aside the burly man who was still holding White, and practically pounced on him, grabbing the gold coin and impatiently biting it between his grime-covered teeth.

He left a shallow tooth mark, then carefully examined the color and texture against the hazy sky of the rusty area, and even weighed it in his hand.

The next moment, a greasy and mercenary smile appeared on his ugly face as if by magic:

"Hey! I didn't realize you were such a straightforward guy! Alright, alright! It's nothing, nothing at all!" He waved his short, thick arms, shouting at his subordinates like he was shooing away flies.

"Release him! Hurry up! White, you're incredibly lucky, you've met a benefactor!"

"Get out of here with your rotten flesh and skin! Don't let me see you on the street again!" After shouting, he clutched the gold coin tightly, as if afraid it would fly away.

Satisfied, he turned around, hunched over, and quickly retreated into the strangely smelly shack, not even bothering to glance at the "stolen goods" on the ground again.

White lay sprawled in the cold mud, the disorientation of surviving the ordeal and the pain throughout his body causing him to cough violently, almost unable to breathe.

He raised his cloudy, tearful eyes, looking blankly at the unfamiliar young man a few steps away, then struggled to turn his head away.

He looked toward the dark, narrow alley where his shack was located, his eyes vacant and unfocused.

It was as if his soul was still frozen in the instant the cleaver fell, not yet truly awakened from this sudden nightmare.

Solo didn't offer any words of comfort or inquiry, but simply stepped closer, his boots making a soft sound as they sank into the mud.

He stood in front of White, blocking some of the dim light and casting a brief shadow.

"lead the way."

His voice remained simple and calm, yet it carried an undeniable and irresistible power.

It pierced through White's muddled consciousness.

"Go see your daughter."