What do you do when you're transmigrated as a good-for-nothing fire mage?
Lin Yan shakes his hand, and a little flame of paraffin fire flickers on his index finger.
The Mages' Association: Paraffin fire? The lowest-grade flame. You've got no future.
Lin Yan: The flame's wavelength is off. Let me adjust it.
The paraffin fire turns blue-white.
His opponent: You call that paraffin fire?
Lin Yan: I'm still adjusting it. Give me a moment.
Later, he stands atop the Seventh Tower, holding a seven-colored flame in his hand.
The whole world asks him: What kind of monster are you?
Lin Yan looks down at his palm:
“...A chemist.”
