"My Lord!" The old man prayed with a trembling voice, "Has the war of the heavens descended upon us?"
The young people in the caravan were equally shocked, unable to speak.
They saw fire dragons flying in the sky, magma erupting from the earth, and those beautiful yet terrifying auroras, filling their hearts with unprecedented awe.
At another nomadic tribe’s camp, the chieftain gazed at the distant anomalies, his eyes filled with shock and longing.
"Is that... the power of a Wizard?"
His voice was filled with deep reverence and undisguised yearning:
"The legendary divine power that can summon wind and rain, move mountains and overturn seas..."
The tribe’s warriors tightly gripped the scimitars in their hands.
But faced with such incomprehensible power, these cold weapons seemed so pale and powerless.
They were both fearful and yearning, like moths drawn to a flame.
A young herdsman pointed at the fire whirlwinds in the sky, his voice trembling:
"If... if we could also possess such power..."
"Silence!" The chieftain sternly rebuked, "That is not a realm we mortals can reach."
Similar scenes were unfolding everywhere in the desert.
Whether it was brave warriors or well-traveled merchants.
In the face of such unfathomable power, they all became trembling children.
They both feared and yearned for this world-altering might, like moths to a flame.
Fear made them kneel, but deep within, an insatiable longing for such power burned.
If they could possess such ability, they too could become "gods" walking on earth.
In a village, the village chief led the whole village to kneel at the village entrance, praying devoutly towards the direction of the Sand Sea School.
"Great Lord of Heavenly Fire!" The village chief’s voice trembled:
"Please forgive our mortal ignorance! We are willing to offer our most precious sacrifices, just to ask you to quell your anger!"
The villagers followed him in prayer, their voices converging into a thunderous chorus.
Their eyes were filled with awe and fear, but deep inside, each of them burned with a longing for that power.
If one day they could master such ability, what would it feel like?
To change the world with a wave of the hand, to make magma spew from the earth, to make fire rain from the sky...
Such thoughts coiled in their hearts like serpents, both terrifying and mesmerizing.
......
In the main building complex of the Sand Sea School, Salamanda was frantically dealing with this incident.
He had to comfort the pained Ramses, repair the out-of-control underground energy system, and control the continuously spreading magma disaster.
"Edwin! Why are you still standing there?"
He shouted angrily at the student who was equally shaken by the disaster:
"Immediately adjust the pressure of the seventh magma pipeline! And activate the emergency cooling system!"
"Yes, teacher!"
Though Edwin was still weakened after the eruption, he dared not delay.
If not handled properly, a geological disaster of this level could affect the ecological balance of the entire Quicksand Lands.
Forcing his fatigued body, he began to assist Salamanda in managing the disaster.
The master and apprentice were busy amidst magma and flames, like firefighters in Hell.
......
The scorching rivers of magma slowly cooled on the sandy ground, but the celestial phenomena in the sky persisted.
The fire whirlwinds, reaching kilometers high, were no longer as frenzied, yet they continued to leisurely sway among the clouds like the long whips of a deity.
Lightning flickered within them, each flash illuminating half of the sand sea.
On the distant horizon, dozens of magma columns continued to erupt intermittently, rhythmically releasing the earth’s internal pressure like its breath.
These beams of light stood out starkly against the night, staining the originally pitch-dark desert a deep blood-red.
Salamanda, busy in the control center of Leviathan, finally managed to stabilize Ramses’ vital signs after three whole hours.
When he emerged, dragging his weary body, his eyes, once as fiery as molten gold, had dimmed significantly.
The hem of his robe was scorched black from the heat, and even his breaths carried a deep fatigue.
This state is extremely rare for a strong person at the Dark Sun Level Peak, enough to prove the severity of the earlier "accident."
"Thank goodness, it’s finally stabilized."
Salamanda walked to the observation deck at the edge of Leviathan, leaning heavily on the stone railing.
He did not speak immediately but quietly gazed at those strange sights afar, his eyes full of some complex emotions.
Ron stood beside him, equally awed by the apocalyptic spectacle.
After a long time, Salamanda slowly spoke:
"Do you see them, Ralph?"
He raised his hand, pointing to those tiny figures scattered across the desert.
Even from such a great distance, the silhouettes of countless kneeling people could still be seen, facing the source of this "miracle" with reverence.
"What those natives submit to is not our virtue or wisdom, but our world-changing power."
Salamanda’s voice turned hoarse, each word carrying the deep understanding that comes with the passage of time:
"In the Central Lands, those people in the Ivory Towers always believe that by analyzing the world and publishing papers, they can gain everything. That’s because their environment is too comfortable."
He turned around, his weary eyes meeting Ron’s:
"But in the Quicksand Lands, in the Abyss, and in any place where life hangs by a thread, ’survival’ is the only truth."