The Wizard: Starting as a Corpse Collector Apprentice and Paying for a Monthly Subscription

The air in the basement still carried the lingering scent of meditation essential oils.

Just as Tyrion put on his signature brown linen robe and was about to leave, he heard a familiar flapping sound of wings outside the window.

Gah!

The crow with its eyes burning with eerie green flames landed on the windowsill once more.

Tyron immediately stopped what he was doing, turned around, clasped his hands together, and gave an impeccable apprentice's salute.

"tutor."

The crow didn't speak, but opened its beak and spat out a heavy black cloth bag, which landed on the table with a dull thud.

Then, it pointed to the bag with its black paw, signaling Tyrone to open it.

Tyron stepped forward and untied the rope.

The bag contained two things:

The token, about the size of a palm, was made of a material that resembled gold but was not quite gold. It was brownish-yellow in color, with a roaring lion embossed on the front, which was the symbol of the Kane Wizard Tower. The back was engraved with intricate anti-counterfeiting runes.

And four brand new 500-yuan Zijin coin banknotes.

"This is a wizard's token that represents my identity."

Mackley's voice came through the crows, carrying an undeniable air of authority.

"If you encounter any unreasonable people who give you trouble, just show them this. In the lower city, no one dares to disrespect me. At least, it can guarantee your safety."

"As for the money, it's the money your senior sister gave you to collect the body. Don't disappoint her."

After saying this, the crow flapped its wings and disappeared by the window.

"Thank you for your guidance, mentor."

Tyron bowed again to the empty windowsill.

But he did not immediately put away the token.

He picked up the heavy lion-head token and gently stroked the runes on the back with his fingers.

The basement was quiet, with only the sound of his breathing.

Turning around to continue packing, Tyron suddenly realized that he no longer felt the lightness he had before.

"It's still a closed, isolated space, and I'm all alone, but the 'Slacking Off Sacred Body' isn't working..."

"In other words..."

A sense of understanding flashed through Tyron's mind.

This token is not just a talisman, but also a mobile surveillance camera.

It must be covered with high-level magic such as "Eagle Eye" or "Arcane Mark".

Although Macley gave him a chance, trust is a luxury for wizards.

Since it involves both delivering a message and searching for a body, it is in itself a comprehensive test.

Tyron remained calm, as if he hadn't noticed anything, and solemnly placed the token close to his body, right against his chest.

Then, he folded the four large bills neatly and stuffed them into his inner pocket.

"Set off."

He picked up the rune frame he had worked on overnight, opened the door, and drove the carriage away from Ushtar.

……

The carriage bumped along the gravel road.

Tyron drove skillfully across the bridge and headed west, following the river to the border between the slums and the lower town—Old Mine Street.

This is where Old Jack lives.

Although he had said goodbye yesterday, Tyron already had a vague idea in his heart, but since he was passing by, he still wanted to take a look.

Based on his understanding of the scumbags in the wine gang, they wouldn't easily let go of any target as long as there was still some profit to be made from them.

If possible, I'll lend a hand.

Ten minutes later.

The carriage stopped in front of the dilapidated wooden house.

The door was ajar.

Tyron jumped out of the car and opened the door.

The room was empty.

On that single wooden bed, only a few tattered cloths and a pool of blood that had not yet dried remained.

The bodies of old Jack and Linda's grandmother have disappeared.

"These beasts."

Tyronn clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"I've made myself perfectly clear, I even drew runes for you... and you still don't even spare the dead!"

He knew very well that old Jack had been contemplating suicide yesterday.

He only wanted to accompany his wife on her final journey, to help her leave this world peacefully.

But now, even this last wish has been trampled upon.

Tyron took a deep breath, suppressing his anger.

"Go to the warehouse."

He jumped onto the carriage and gave the reins a sharp jerk.

The old horse seemed to sense its master's anger, let out a neigh, and galloped off towards the Red Wine Gang's stronghold.

……

The wine gang's base was located in an abandoned warehouse in the dock area.

Before even getting close, Tyron sensed something was wrong.

Despite it being a bright and sunny morning, a chilling atmosphere permeated the area around the warehouse.

That kind of cold wasn't a drop in temperature, but a chilling cold that seeped directly into your bones.

"ah--!!"

A piercing scream shattered the silence from inside the warehouse.

Immediately following were cries of pleas for mercy and the sounds of heavy objects crashing.

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I was wrong, sir! I was really wrong!"

"Help! This old man has gone mad!!"

Tyron pulled on the reins, his brow furrowed.

Wisps of grayish-black mist drifted out from the gap in the warehouse door.

"A chilling wind... a resentful aura..."

A word flashed through Tyron's mind: zombie resurrection.

3000 years have passed since the destruction of the ancient magical royal court in the Third Age.

The magical tide receded 3000 years ago, and the source fire was extinguished 3000 years ago.

Before that, the source fire burned, the earth was bathed in light, and the dead and demons were just legends.

That was a true golden age, when people, bathed in the source fire, wielded extraordinary power and could freely control vast amounts of magic.

But as the original flames died down and the magical tide receded, darkness from the abyss began to erode the land.

From that time onward, the corpses of the dead began to undergo all sorts of terrifying mutations; souls could turn into demons, and corpses could turn into zombies.

The demon gradually tore apart the laws of matter, wandering within the veins of magic.

Even the mighty Lord of the Abyss can corrupt the magical tides and tempt wizards to their downfall.

This is precisely why the church now monopolizes the entire funeral industry.

Because if a normal corpse is not properly handled, it can mutate for various reasons.

As the church's monopoly became increasingly excessive, the entire Wizarding Alliance officially lifted the ban on corpses 300 years ago.

Wizards were allowed to purchase corpses in bulk for their own experiments, thus consuming the ever-increasing number of corpses.

This provides these people at the bottom of society with another way to make a living.

Among the many abnormalities of corpses, corpse transformation is a fairly common phenomenon. Generally, the target of corpse transformation is a new body that has been dead for no more than 24 hours, and the deceased was filled with great anger and resentment before death.

According to the "Basic Necromancer's Compendium," there are two main types of zombie transformation:

One type is a vengeful spirit that, due to immense anger and obsession before death, embraces the power of the abyss the moment it leaves its body.

These evil spirits have no physical form, but they can directly attack the mind and body of their targets, and are classified as level two demons.

The second possibility is that this caused his intense longing and resentment at the moment of his death to be unwilling to leave his body, turning him into a wandering ghost.

Instead, it combines a twisted and dark spirituality with the physical body, transforming into a terrifying monster.

These monsters are generally covered in black hair, and their bodies are far stronger and more robust than those of normal humans.

To draw an analogy, the former is a vengeful ghost, and the latter is a zombie.

"Old Jack..."

Tyrone murmured the name and strode toward the warehouse.

As soon as I entered, a strong smell of blood hit me.

The scene before me was nothing short of hell on earth.

The ground was littered with severed limbs, and blood splattered across the walls like ink.

Five members of the Red Wine Gang lay in pools of blood, some with broken necks, others disemboweled by their own weapons.

In the center of the warehouse, old Jack's emaciated body was tightly embracing Grandma Linda.

The two corpses were intertwined, as if they were embracing each other in their last moments.

But at this moment, there was no unusual movement on Old Jack's body.

Instead, clusters of gray-black shadows were swirling and howling wildly in the air.

"It's you! You damned bastard!"

A roar interrupted Tyron's observation.

A bald, burly man covered in blood rushed out of the shadows.

It was that same petty thug who was so arrogant towards Tyron yesterday.

He had completely gone mad by this point, brandishing a machete, his eyes bloodshot, his face contorted with fear and rage.

"It's all because of you! If you hadn't meddled, this old man would have been dead long ago! He wouldn't have turned into this monster!"

"Go to hell!!"

The bald, burly man roared and pounced on Tyrion like a desperate beast.

Tyron stood still, without even making a move.

Because it is not needed.

call!

A gust of cold wind suddenly rose up, transforming into a blurry human face, and instantly rushed into the bald man's body.

"Uh... Ah!!"

The bald man's momentum came to an abrupt halt.

He felt as if an invisible hand had grabbed his neck, and he froze on the spot.

Immediately afterwards, his face turned pitch black at a visible speed, his eyes rolled back, and his eyeballs were covered with black blood vessels.

"Giggle...giggle..."

A chilling, bone-grinding sound came from the bald man's throat.

His body began to convulse violently, his limbs twisting at an angle that reversed the joints.

During this process, his pale eyes were fixed on Tyrone, and he uttered hoarse, intermittent sounds:

"Tyr...Len...?"

That wasn't the bald man's voice.

That was old Jack's voice.

With endless pain, confusion, and a sliver of remaining rationality.

Tyron's heart skipped a beat.

He looked at the possessed bald man, at those familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, and slowly took off his hood.

"Uncle Jack".

Tyron's voice was low and sorrowful.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I'm sorry you had to suffer."

Upon hearing these words, the soul inside the bald man's body seemed to tremble slightly.

That frenzied killing intent subsided considerably in an instant.

"ah--!!"

The next second, the bald man let out a final, piercing scream.

The shadow suddenly burst out of his body, taking away all his vitality and spirituality.

The bald man's body went limp like a lump of mud and he fell silent instantly.

With the bald man's death, the shadow did not dissipate, but instead roared towards Tyrion.

A cold wind swept across my face, chilling me to the bone.

If it were an ordinary person, they would have been terrified and wet themselves by now.

But Tyronn didn't dodge.

He stood there, letting the cold, eerie aura envelop him.

As a wizarding apprentice, he was well aware of the characteristics of vengeful spirits.

They are products of obsession, attacking only their enemies from their previous life, and barring unforeseen circumstances, they can only last for a maximum of 24 hours.

If old Jack really hated him, he wouldn't have paused when calling out his name.

"Uncle Jack".

Tyron reached out and gently touched the wisp of air, as if stroking an old man's shoulder.

"The books you gave me for your son have been very useful to me."

"Because of that book, I learned magic, and in the future, I will have the opportunity to gain my mentor's appreciation."

"You are my benefactor."

A chilling wind howled, swirling around his fingertips.

The biting chill gradually softened, like a helpless sigh.

"I know this world is cold and people are wicked."

"Tyron said softly, his eyes firm yet gentle," he said.

"But I still believe that good people should be rewarded."

"So, Uncle Jack, go ahead without worry."

"Those who hurt you are all dead. Leave the rest to me, I have money now."

He took out the money Zixing had given him for collecting the body, two brand-new 500-yuan bills.

"I will give you a dignified funeral. I will bury you on a sunny hillside, so that you can be together forever, and no one can disturb you anymore."

"May your souls find eternal rest, until the end of time..."

As Tyrion whispered, the shadow began to tremble violently.

Uh...

A long, liberating cry echoed through the warehouse.

The eerie wind gradually dissipated, turning into faint specks of firefly light that blended into the air.

Old Jack's obsession dissipated.

A deathly silence returned to the warehouse.

Tyron stood there, silent for a long time.

Then he turned around and looked around.

Seven people died here.

Five of them were killed by killing each other, and their deaths were extremely gruesome.

And the other two...

Tyron walked over to the bald corpse and then looked at another corpse in another corner.

It was a skinny thug who died in the exact same way as the bald man: his face was ashen, there were no signs of rigor mortis, his eyes rolled back, and his body was stiff.

This is a typical characteristic of someone who dies after being possessed by an evil spirit and having their spiritual energy drained.

"Oh."

Tyron suddenly laughed, a laugh tinged with sarcasm and a hint of relief.

"The third type of corpse that Senior Sister Zixing is looking for—the withered shell."

"Requirement: A person who has been possessed by an evil spirit and died because their spirituality was completely drained."

"This extremely rare material, one in a million, has been given to me here, two of them at once."

Is this what they call "good deeds are rewarded"?

Old Jack, in his final act of revenge, not only helped Tyron clean up the mess but also gave him a big gift.

"Thanks."

Tyron thanked the void once more.

He didn't rush to leave.

He first went to the bodies of old Jack and Granny Linda, carefully separated them, then put them into two clean body bags and loaded them onto the carriage.

Then, he took out two more sealed bags and put the bald man's and the skinny man's corpses inside.

He wasn't in a hurry to leave because the rune frame hadn't been delivered yet!

The connection between myself and the person who needs the rune frame must be reconnected today!