Death is like the wind, always by your side

"There is no scent of the living."

"Is it an undead? No, probably not."

"The resurrected dead lose their memories and reason from their past lives. Even if they retain them by chance, they lose the warmth of their emotions, let alone the will to protect ordinary people."

"Then..."

"A puppet under someone's control?"

"An alchemical creation of a sorcerer?"

"In terms of strength, it should be at the level of an intermediate sorcerer's apprentice."

The distinction between day and night is blurred in the world of sorcerers.

The sky is shrouded in oppressive deathly energy, where neither the blazing sunlight nor the crimson moonlight can pierce the veil of inky darkness.

Only on rare occasions—

Like the last time a skeletal dragon stirred a tempest—does the gloom briefly part, revealing a hollow through which the sun and moon reappear, restoring the ancient spectacle of light.

Drip—

Drip—

The "hero" has departed.

It claimed that other villages were suffering, and as an envoy of justice, it must hasten to their aid.

Through the viscous darkness, the hero marches alone, its rusted armor and notched sword lending a desolate air to its journey.

Crimson, rotting flesh is trampled underfoot.

Pale bones are crushed beneath its steps.

Watching that solitary figure, Xu Xi falls into contemplation.

"Though it lacks the power of a true hero, this sense of justice in action carries the shadow of one."

"Even though it isn’t truly human..."

Xu Xi sighs.

He does not know what manner of life resides within that steel armor.

But one thing is certain—it is no ordinary living being.

By human logic, this is heresy, an aberration that must be purged. Yet the absurdity of reality lies here: the very existence deemed an abomination is the one tirelessly saving humans.

Whether it follows a preordained program

Or harbors some other purpose,

This act of kindness is undeniably real.

"Such is the strangeness of fate."

"A false hero performs the righteous deeds of a true one—then the line between truth and falsehood blurs into irrelevance."

A gust of wind scatters dust and sand.

Xu Xi extends his hand, letting sparse bone fragments fall onto his palm, rough to the touch as they roll along his lifelines.

Following his original plan, he enters the village to replenish supplies.

Then he departs once more.

Influenced by the "hero," the vicinity of the village is now devoid of undead. Xu Xi sets his sights on more distant lands to gather enough soul flames for his cultivation.

First-Circle Sorcery·Undead Summoning.

First-Circle Sorcery·Bone Reconstruction.

First-Circle Sorcery·Bone Lightening.

A surge of potent soul energy resonates, bridging the gap to the endless Netherworld. With a wisp of soul flame as its core, a new featherless bone-bird takes form.

It lowers its head,

Allowing Xu Xi to step onto its crest.

Then it carries him toward even more remote territories.

Along the way, spectral winds howl fiercely, yet they are all repelled by an invisible barrier.

Xu Xi’s calm gaze lingers on the churning obsidian sky, where emerald droplets occasionally plummet, corroding the pockmarked earth below.

This world has already been eroded to a profound degree.

Perhaps it won’t be long—

Maybe even before the simulation ends—

Before it is wholly assimilated by the Netherworld,

Absorbed as one of its countless soul-realms.

"Fortunately, life finds its own way. Even pure beings of life can survive in the endless Netherworld."

"Yet such cataclysmic change remains perilous for ordinary folk."

"The undying of the Netherworld are far more terrifying than the undead scourges of the sorcerers’ world."

Xu Xi stares at the sky for a long while.

With a flick of his wrist, he retrieves a crude map.

This was intelligence he acquired while residing in a small town, traded from a few sorcerer apprentices. It marks the locations of several sorcerer factions and human kingdoms.

Xu Xi’s next destination

Is the Aeoca Kingdom, renowned as the "Lion’s Land," where a Fourth-Circle Wizard Tower stands guard.

"I hope to obtain some useful materials there."

"If conditions permit, I might even establish my future Wizard Tower within the Aeoca Kingdom—so long as I can study the soul in peace."

After a quick scan of the map,

Xu Xi tucks it away.

He plans to seek out more undead-infested areas along his journey, sending them back to their home in the Netherworld.

"I’ve always had a soft heart. I can’t bear to see them homeless."

...

[Death rides the wind, ever at your side.]

[The leaden sky drips with dreadful rain, corroding your mount at every turn.]

[Thankfully, your bone reserves are ample, and your soul flames plentiful. You can seamlessly repair the bone-bird, maintaining high-speed flight for extended periods.]

[Between flights, you delve deeper into sorcerous arts.]

[Life, Transformation, Soul, Elements, Bloodline, Alchemy, Curses...]

[Though reminiscent of the arcane, the practitioners of the sorcerers’ world tread a vastly different path.]

[With the soul as their foundation, they unravel the possibilities of all phenomena.]

[Their goal, their purpose—to ascend to the pinnacle of legend, becoming immortal Seventh-Circle Sorcerers.]

[Each circle’s advancement signifies an elevation of the soul’s essence, a step closer to transcendence.]

[To study knowledge, to seek truth, to break free from the shackles of the soul—]

[This is the sorcerer’s path: to grasp truth with the soul, and to rewrite it.]

[You marvel at this.]

[Lost in study, unable to tear yourself away.]

[Ding—]

[The Soul Collector effect triggers. You acquire the soul flame of a lesser undead and liberate a long-lost spirit. It thanks you before vanishing into the endless Netherworld.]

[Moved, you resolve to strive harder—to perform more good deeds.]

[Your undead-slaying speed doubles.]

...

The simulation proceeds smoothly.

On the road to the Aeoca Kingdom,

Xu Xi travels in starts and stops.

Sometimes he immerses himself in sorcerous arts from the real world; other times, he personally reaps the soul flames of countless undead.

The weakest among them could be handled by ordinary folk.

The strongest was a putrid, stinking elven archer, inheriting fragments of its former prowess.

"Precise and masterful archery."

"Innate soul-combat techniques."

"Even a mindless skeleton wields such power—proof of its formidable strength in life." Xu Xi lowers his hand, staring at the pulverized bone debris before him.

A flicker of azure soul flame vanishes, instinctively retreating into the endless Netherworld.

But before it can escape,

An unseen force cleaves it apart.

A portion of the soul flame leaps into Xu Xi’s palm.

He does not absorb it immediately.

Such a potent soul, he thinks, holds greater utility.

Perhaps for soul experiments, probing the mysteries of life and death.

Or as a guardian, embedded within a sorcerous construct.

A Wizard Tower

Is a sorcerer’s ultimate bastion—for research, spellcraft, and resource stockpiling.

The towers of legendary sorcerers wield the might to invade worlds alone, rivaling entire civilizations.

Naturally,

Such a colossal edifice cannot be manned by its master alone.

A retinue of guardians and aides is indispensable.

"May the journey yield more such prizes," Xu Xi murmurs, closing his fist around the azure soul flame, storing it separately.

Just as he prepares to leave,

His detection spell picks up an unexpected presence.

The steel-clad "hero" was patrolling the outer limits of the detection spell's range, glancing left and right as if searching for something.