Chapter 340: Growth and Intel

High above the endless lava seas of the Infernal Sulfur plane, Jie Ming hovered in the air, a faint halo shimmering around him.

In his right hand was a newly forged crystal—far more intricate than anything from his second-level days—glowing with deep-blue runes.

This was the prototype of his third-level sigil witch artifact, born from his upgraded elemental mastery and a deeper grasp of the Spiritual Qi Law.

He locked onto a patch of empty sky far in the distance and flicked his thoughts.

Whoosh!

A fist-sized orb of blinding white light shot from the crystal’s tip. It sliced silently through the sulfur-stained crimson sky, too fast for the eye to track.

Seconds later, at the edge of sight, the orb detonated.

The air seemed to crumple under an invisible grip. Then a halo of light over a hundred kilometers wide erupted, like someone had slapped a miniature sun onto the plane’s ceiling.

Pure light and heat flooded downward, turning the lava seas below bone-white for a heartbeat.

Only then came the delayed roar—a sound that felt like it could rip souls apart.

A visible shockwave ring exploded outward, shredding the sky into a vacuum and vaporizing entire layers of sulfur clouds.

The calm lava ocean was hammered into a massive crater. Dark-red waves hundreds of meters high surged outward, triggering a plane-wide lava tsunami.

A scorching storm of radiation and energy shards swept an area the size of a mid-sized province. Anything below a certain energy threshold was instantly vaporized.

Jie Ming watched the province-obliterating blast and nodded, satisfied.

“Power: check. By low-civ standards, that’s ‘nation-killer’ territory.”

It far outstripped the usual third-level “city-buster” ceiling—matching or exceeding veteran fourth-level wizards.

The payoff of deep foundations and a unique path.

But the satisfaction faded fast.

“Great for clearing trash mobs,” he muttered, “but against peers or stronger, the energy’s too spread out. Efficiency tanks.”

At this tier, brute-force energy balls were hitting the limits of compression and penetration.

He could push further, but that was fourth-level control territory.

New direction clicked.

“Shift the sigil line to focused, armor-piercing beams. One line of annihilation—break anything.”

Plan set, he flashed back to the plane’s core lab.

Two packages waited—space-ripples marking fixed-point delivery.

First bag: rare metals, energy crystals, catalysts. Bulk raw stock for the internal auto-factories churning out third-level sigils.

Tucked in the corner: space-warping ores and chips—his starter kit for space research.

Second bag: a grin split his face.

A palm-sized fifth-level large elemental pool, folded down but exquisitely complex.

He’d burned the refinement arrays at max to scrape together the insane merit cost. Black, handling sales, had nearly collapsed—but made a fortune and didn’t complain.

His internal space—Nascent Soul expanded and reinforced—was now city-sized and rock-solid. Perfect for a fifth-level pool.

That tier could power a small plane or a mobile wizard tower. Overkill for factories and nests.

With seventh-level install experience, the fifth-level was child’s play. Months later, it hummed perfectly in the energy grid.

Factories roared faster; nests glowed brighter.

Energy solved. Space research ramped.

Third-level brought perceptual upgrade: he could finally feel space’s ripples directly, like wind on skin.

Before, All-Purpose Eye readouts were second-hand data. Now it was raw sensation.

Observation → influence → control.

Add in decades of brain/soul forging from body-tempering arts—superhuman computation—and space theory clicked fast.

Less than ten years: first working prototype.

Test chamber—space-expanded to absurd scale.

Jie Ming tossed a plain metal ball. Even a casual flick sent it screaming fifteen kilometers.

Then he activated the rig: silver rings lit with runes.

At peak glow, space hiccupped.

Hum…

Far end: light twisted.

The ball vanished and reappeared above his open palm, dropping neatly.

“Got it.”

Basic short-range matter teleport.

For him? Strategic gold.

“Shrink it, embed in black giant cores. Self-destruct → instant core recall. No more lost tech or damaged seeds.”

Eyes gleaming: reusable suicide trucks—especially the two fifth-level bosses.

Tactical flexibility and deterrence through the roof.

Then a frown.

“With infinite respawns and core recovery, Prowlers and nests are obsolete.”

Nests could stay as rapid reshape factories.

Prowlers—speed and blast—were outclassed in every metric.

“Time for an upgrade path…”

Wizard life: every leap obsoletes the old, births the new.

Countdown blinked: years left.

“Core recall modules: elite units only. Prioritize the two fifth-levels and high-potential fourth-levels.”

He submitted early—two years ahead.

Confirmation pinged. Ultra-encrypted intel packet.

Not target briefing.

Emergency theater update.

First lines: pupils shrank.

Second-wave reinforcements.

First expedition—multiple high-tiers—plus first reinforcements: all missing. Radio silence.

Not heavy losses.

Zero comms. No battle logs, no enviro data, no SOS. Preset emergency runes—gone.

The plane swallowed them whole.

Yet soul-contract vitals: over a million wizards alive. Stable. Uninjured.

Three confirmed KIA. That’s it.

Even Black’s illusion hell leaked warnings and showed declining vitals.

This? A million in, three out, zero wounded, zero leaks.

Like they’d gone to sleep—or been preserved.

Without ninth-levels scrubbing ninth-power planes first, you’d swear something that strong hid inside.

Federation’s big shots held back the nuke option—multiple eighth-levels ripping the plane open, even if natives self-destructed.

A million wizards were worth more than one plane’s loot.

But patience had limits.

If the second elite wave vanished the same way—alive but silent—eighth-level wrath would follow. No cost too high.

“Elite task indeed,” Jie Ming muttered, brows locked. “This intel reeks.”

Mind raced.

Hidden ninth-level? Already checked.

Super illusion/mind prison blocking a million—including high-tiers who see through lies—while keeping vitals perfect?

Isolated inner dimension?

Veterans should’ve sniffed space traps.

Worst case: something outside wizard knowledge.

“Good—no immediate death flag.” Deep breath. “Rare chance to see what silences a million wizards.”

Unknown = risk = knowledge.

Irresistible.

But not suicidal.

Whatever waited, keeping him quiet wouldn’t be easy.