Wizard: My Skills Can Infinitely Break Through

This planet is called Profound Yellow Star.

Two hundred years ago, it was a world without any Extraordinary Power.

Until... Profound Yellow Star and another Otherworld, one completely lost to the Abyss’s Erosion, met in the Void.

This was not a physical collision, but a fusion at the level of Rules.

The boundaries of the two worlds shattered at the point of impact, forming countless spatial rifts of all sizes.

Humans called them ”Abyssal Rifts.”

These Rifts were like living wounds, slowly expanding, continuously funneling pollution from the other side.

It was said that on the other side, no normal living beings remained.

There were only tainted servants, mutated monsters, vile creatures, as well as human traitors and blood-sacrificing cults who had thrown in their lot with the Abyss.

Their instincts drove them to devour life and pollute worlds, and for two hundred years they had never stopped assaulting the Rifts.

In the Initial Stage of the two worlds’ convergence, the Profound Yellow World suffered immense losses. Ordinary armies and firepower were completely unable to stop these mutated monsters.

At the height of the crisis, the Great Yan Kingdom, where Wei Song lived, unleashed more than fifty ”big mushrooms” in one go.

They wiped out all the invading monsters, driving them back into the Rifts.

Humanity designated that year as Year Zero of the Great Cataclysm.

In that same year, Great Yan produced the world’s first Superpower User.

From then on, across all of Profound Yellow Star, humanity embarked on a momentous evolutionary journey.

It was also from that point that every child in the Profound Yellow World underwent a standardized Superpower screening before starting school.

The results of this screening determined their future path.

Those with the Talent for Superpowers entered Superpower Academies to learn how to control and develop their abilities.

However, the Awakening rate for Superpowers was still far too low.

According to official statistics, there was perhaps only one Awakener for every 500 people.

Those without Superpowers could only enroll in regular universities, study conventional subjects, and take up the most basic jobs after graduation.

Theoretically, everyone was born with a Superpower, but not everyone could have their Awakening.

Wei Song was one of the latter.

His screening result was... no Talent for Superpowers.

Thus, he could only attend an ordinary vocational college and major in a perfectly ordinary subject.

After graduating, he hit a wall at every turn in the job market.

No one knew that he actually concealed a high-potential Superpower within him: Thermal Energy Control.

He just lacked a ”key”—a key in the form of a sufficiently intense stimulus.

Now, that key had finally arrived.

The desperation of nearing death, of having his Soul torn away... and the Awakening of the panel.

”Now, I’m a Superpower User too. It’s just that the price... was a little high.”

Wei Song raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the people he had saved.

They were still looking at him, their eyes filled with gratitude, curiosity, and... a trace of natural, emergent respect.

After all, he was now a noble Awakener who had just killed nine people.

Even though they were Cultists, the act of killing itself was enough to strike fear into ordinary people.

Wei Song didn’t linger on them, turning to walk toward the exit of the underground space.

It was a narrow, steep flight of stone steps leading up to the Wilderness outside.

”W-Wait!”

A young girl’s voice called out from behind him.

Her voice was soft, laced with hesitation and fear.

Wei Song paused for a moment but didn’t turn back.

”Aren’t... aren’t you going to wait for the authorities to arrive?” the girl asked, mustering her courage.

”They... they should be here soon. You saved so many people, they’ll definitely reward you...”

Wei Song still didn’t respond. He continued up the stone steps, his figure quickly disappearing around the corner.

He left behind only silence and the complex gazes of the thirty-seven survivors.

Stepping out from underground, he found himself in the Wilderness.

A strong night wind blew, making the waist-high weeds RUSTLE.

The moon hung overhead, casting down a cold, silvery glow.

In the distance, the city lights merged into a single expanse, like a river of stars that had fallen to earth.

That was Jiangzhou City, the capital of Jiangnan Province, a megacity with a population of over ten million.

Great Yan had thirty-six such megacities.

This planet was also much larger than the Blue Star of his previous life.

Wei Song took a deep breath.

The night air was cool, filling his lungs with the scent of weeds and soil.

But the orange-red current of heat in his chest circulated slowly, emanating a steady warmth that drove away the night’s chill.

He walked for a while through the Wilderness before finding a relatively clean Stone Slab to sit on.

The surface of the Stone Slab was cold, but it wasn’t long before his body heat warmed it up.

’Time to sort through these memories.’

He closed his eyes, proactively reaching out to the residual memory fragments.

It was like opening a door that had been sealed for ages.

Memories surged forth like a tide, no longer scattered images but a coherent, emotionally charged story.

After graduation, Wei Song had rented a tiny, ten-square-meter, run-down room in an urban village on the outskirts of Jiangzhou City for eight hundred a month, paying one month’s deposit and three months’ rent upfront.

The room was tiny. Once a bed, a desk, and a simple wardrobe were in place, there was barely any space left.

The desk was piled high with printed resumes, some of which were dog-eared from being handled so much.

It had been three months since he graduated from vocational college with a degree in ”Marketing”—a major that sounded trendy but was practically useless.

He had sent out over a hundred resumes, the vast majority of which were marked as ”read” but never received a reply.

For the few interviews he did get, he’d squeezed onto the rush-hour subway, worn his only decent set of clothes, and answered their questions with trepidation.

And then... nothing but silence.

A sudden thought struck Wei Song, and he fished a phone out of his pocket.

The phone held a recent read message, sent by his mom three days ago.

He tapped it open gently, and a familiar voice sounded.

”Xiao Song, have you found a job yet? Do you have enough money? Don’t wear yourself out, and don’t put too much pressure on yourself...”

The previous Wei Song hadn’t replied, perhaps because he didn’t know how.

He remained silent for a long time, understanding the original owner’s feelings.

’Was he supposed to say, ”Mom, I sent out a hundred resumes and haven’t gotten a single response?”’

’Was he supposed to say, ”Mom, I only have two hundred yuan left, and I have no idea how I’m going to pay next month’s rent?”’

The original owner hadn’t dared to reply.

Wei Song stared at the message for a long time before turning off the screen.

He thought of his original self’s hometown: Xiongshi County, a small county in Jiangnan Province.

Narrow streets lined with all kinds of food stalls.

His dad would often be pushing a battered old tricycle, a stove and pot mounted on the back.

With a stooped back and graying hair, the man, who was only in his early fifties, looked like he was over sixty.

The boxes of ingredients on the tricycle were heavier than he was, but he always clenched his jaw and moved them in silence, never complaining.

Every day at four in the morning, his mom would be up.

Her hands were covered in cracks, some still seeping blood—chilblains from washing vegetables in cold water during the winter that never fully healed, even in summer.

She would be forcefully kneading dough, preparing the steamed buns for their stall.

The dim yellow light illuminated her stooped figure, casting a long shadow on the wall.

He also had an older brother.

Four years ago, his brother had been passing by during an attack launched by Cultists and got caught up in it.

Seventeen people died in that attack. His brother was the most severely injured of the survivors.

He survived, but he lost both his legs.

From then on, he could only sit in his wheelchair, staring out the window for hours on end.

He didn’t speak, didn’t complain. His gaze just grew more despondent with each passing day.

He was like a pool of stagnant water, no longer capable of producing a single ripple.

Thinking of this, Wei Song stood up and let out a long breath to relieve the tightness in his chest.

No wonder the original owner, in his desperation, had made a wish to any existence in the Void.

’Without you... this family really has no hope.’

As for friends and relatives, they were even less reliable.

He remembered a family gathering during the New Year last year.

At the dinner table, his second aunt’s sharp-featured face had leaned in, her voice shrill and piercing.

”Aiya, what’s the use of putting a kid through college if he can’t even find a job?”

”My Haoming dropped out of middle school to work in a factory, and now he makes eight thousand a month! Room and board are covered, and he gets a year-end bonus!”

”If you ask me, all that education just makes them picky and unskilled...”

His mom had forced a smile and tried to smooth things over. ”The boy’s still young, there’s no rush.”

His dad had kept his head down, shoveling rice into his mouth without a word, his chopsticks gripped tightly in his hand.

In the corner, his brother sat motionless in his wheelchair, a blanket covering his legs.

No one went up to talk to him, as if he wasn’t even there.

That night, after returning home, his father coughed for a long time in the inner room.

The sound of his stifled, repressed coughs was exceptionally clear in the quiet night.

Before he left, his mother had secretly slipped him a photograph.

It was taken on New Year’s Day. His parents stood in front of their food stall, wearing greasy aprons, their faces crinkled in wide smiles.

His brother sat in his wheelchair, the old blanket on his lap, also forcing a smile for the camera.

On the back of the photo, he had scrawled three words with a ballpoint pen.

Fight for it.

The handwriting was deeply imprinted, almost tearing through the photographic paper.

As if he had poured all his strength, all his hopes and frustrations, into those words.

The tide of memories peaked here, then slowly receded.

Leaving only a heavy weight pressing down in his chest.

Wei Song opened his eyes. The current of heat in his chest trembled slightly.

As if in response to his emotions.

He looked down at his hands, his eyes gradually brightening.

The moment the contract was signed, he had promised ”Wei Song” that he would live on for him.

For the sake of his mom, who woke up at four in the morning to knead dough, her hands covered in cracks.

For the sake of his dad, who couldn’t stand up straight from his back pain but bore it with clenched teeth and without a sound.

For the sake of his brother, who sat in a wheelchair, his gaze growing more despondent by the day.

’I have to live, and live well. I can’t let them down.’

He stood up and dusted off his pants.

”In that case... I’ll live a good life!”

The distant city lights grew brighter, as if beckoning to him.

Wei Song started walking back, but after a few steps, he suddenly stopped and looked toward the underground entrance ahead.

The night was dark, and the entrance was half-hidden by overgrown weeds, making it hard to see clearly.

But Wei Song knew that the thirty-seven people he had rescued should have come out by now.

The authorities had probably arrived too and were processing the scene and registering information.

’How will they describe me?’

’What’s the official attitude toward a civilian Awakener like me? What kind of treatment can I expect?’

’Hmm, joining Great Yan’s official ranks seems like a good choice for now.’

’First, I need to make contact with other Superpower Users, understand the Rules of this world, and increase this body’s strength.’

’And then... I’ll survive, and live a better life.’

Wei Song retracted his gaze and waited quietly on the spot.

The night wind was cool, carrying the unique coarseness of the Wilderness as it blew against his face.

The current of heat in his chest circulated slowly, emanating a steady warmth.

It was like a tiny sun, slumbering within his body.

And like a seed in dark soil, waiting for the day it would break through the earth.