Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 1278 - 513: Resentment Gold, Native Gods

The historical illusions gradually dissipated, and Ron returned to reality.

The slag had completely dissolved, revealing the pristine rune circuit beneath.

However, he seemed somewhat distracted.

"A civilization grade society entirely based on metallurgical magic..."

He continued working, but his mind kept pondering the scenes he had just witnessed.

Hours later, while handling tin dust, Ron once again activated his historical research skills.

This time, he "fell into" a completely different world—the depths of the deep city.

There was no splendor of the upper city here, only endless darkness and despair.

In the vast underground space, countless "coal smoke workers" labored among dim industrial facilities.

Their bodies altered due to prolonged exposure to industrial waste, skin showing an unhealthy gray, eyes filled with fatigue.

Ron "felt" the painful experience of a "Tin Eye."

This young man named Kraf, to hear instructions clearly in the noisy factory environment, burnt excessive tin metal to enhance hearing.

Now he could hear every sound within several kilometers.

The laughter of the upper-class nobles, the neighbor’s child crying, even mice crawling within the wall crevices.

This super hearing brought not advantages, but endless torment.

Every sound in the world being infinitely magnified, Kraf couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t even communicate normally with others.

But the most painful was hearing the conversations of nobles coming from the upper city clearly:

"Those bugs in the deep city are crying again, so noisy."

"No need to mind, bug cries are never important, what matters is whether tomorrow’s output meets the standard."

Anger burned deep in Kraf’s heart, but he could only bury it deeply inside.

Ron continued to "experience" this segment of history.

He "saw" the daily life of the deep city workers.

Working sixteen hours a day, with only nutrient paste and liquid purified from industrial sewage as food.

Children, from birth, are sorted into different "metal squads," forcibly transformed according to talent into "Copper Arms," "Iron Legs," or "Tin Eyes."

But he also "saw" the seeds of hope.

In a hidden underground gathering, the leader of the rebellion, an elderly "Copper Arm" named Sally, was demonstrating mysterious technology received from visitors from another world.

"Companions!" Sally raised a strange device emitting a blue light:

"This mysterious wizard from a distant world brings us hope against the nobles!"

The crowd erupted in long-repressed excitement.

Ron instantly "recognized" the device.

It was some sort of energy converter made by Vinard, able to transform industrial waste into usable energy.

"We no longer need to beg for the nobles’ charity!"

Sally’s voice echoed in the underground space: "We can create our own weapons, establish our own order!"

But Ron also "felt" the fear within the crowd.

Everyone knew the price of rebellion.

Historically, every uprising resulted in bloody suppression, with the rebels’ families being implicated.

However, despair had already surpassed fear.

"For our children!" cried a "Tin Eye" mother with a trembling voice:

"So they won’t repeat our fate!"

"For the brothers and sisters who died at the furnace!" another voice rang out:

"For the dignity trampled over centuries!"

The historical scenes gradually blurred, and Ron returned to reality.

The tin dust in his hands had been completely cleared, but his mood grew heavier.

"Great Wizard Weinard... so this is your conquest plan for the Otherworld."

He recalled Cassandra had once mentioned a "big move," and now he finally understood its meaning.

As the external pollutants were cleared one by one, the scene at the center of the Star-forged Titan’s foot fully exposed itself before Ron.

It was a vast black tar lake.

The color of tar, deep and sombre, can absorb light.

The occasional dark golden spots on its surface were remnants of high furnace slag not fully merged;

And those drifting silver light spots, like fireflies, were fragments of spiritual energy contained within the tin dust.

The most unsettling were the faint sounds occasionally emanating from the depths of the tar.

The clinking of metal clashes, the moans of the dying, and the distant echo of war drums.

These sounds overlapped, forming a discordant symphony about death and hatred.

Ron stood at the edge of this "liquid grave," already having a rough idea of what he’d see next.

From the previous two historical data readings, he already knew what lay buried beneath this filth.

Class hatred of a world, a meticulously planned rebellion, and the bittersweet fates of countless lives lost in conflict.

"Those sounds... aren’t merely simple energy remnants."

Ron carefully listened to the strange noises from the tar depths, [spirit realm perception] letting him "see" the essence behind those sounds:

"This is the resentment of the dead, unfulfilled obsessions, it’s... the cries of history itself."

He cautiously took out a specially-made energy tweezer from his toolbox, a precision instrument designed to handle spiritual contamination.

The tip of the tweezer inlaid with a miniature purification crystal, able to perform real-time energy conversion while touching the pollution source.