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

The carriage left the suffocating slums of Old Mines Street and headed south along the inner ring road leading directly to the wide and straight Avenue of Truth at the Wizard's Tower in Kane.

This is the outer ring of Lion City, and also the area where Tyrion usually spends the most time.

Compared to the dilapidated and chaotic suburbs, the streets in the outer ring area are significantly wider, with neat bluestone slabs paving the road surface.

The buildings on both sides are no longer illegal structures that could collapse at any time, but rather rows of five to eight-story stone buildings with a unified plan.

These buildings are typical of the Third Age Revival style, with exterior walls made of gray-white stone and long, narrow windows decorated with simple geometric reliefs.

Downstairs were bustling shops: alchemy material shops, low-level potion shops, and even a tailor shop that specialized in selling second-hand wizard robes.

The passersby were well-dressed, and most of them were skilled craftsmen, small merchants, or low-level apprentices like Tyron.

The lingering smell of coal smoke was gone, replaced by a mixed aroma of baked bread and spices.

Tyrone drove the carriage skillfully through the bustling crowd, and after arriving at the fifth intersection, he turned the carriage around and headed west.

Soon, a building with a pointed clock tower came into view.

It was a medium-sized church, with dark red ivy climbing all over its gray stone walls, giving it a solemn and oppressive feel.

Behind the church lies a vast cemetery, with rows of leaning tombstones resembling crooked teeth stuck in the black soil.

This is the Church of St. Dormition, under the Church of Our Father, and also the largest funeral center in this area.

Tyron jumped off the carriage, straightened his robes, and fixed his gaze on a figure standing at the church entrance.

He was a middle-aged man wearing a black priest's robe. He was as muscular as a butcher, not tall, but gave off a sturdy and imposing aura.

He had a thick beard, and his square face was full of worldly shrewdness, completely lacking the compassion that a clergyman should have.

Father Logan.

The priest in charge of requiems and burials in this parish was also an acquaintance of Teren's, although their previous encounters had not been pleasant.

"Holy Father, it is an honor to be bathed in your grace, Father Logan."

Tyron stepped forward, a flawless smile on his face, and performed a standard papal salute.

Father Logan was picking his teeth when he heard the sound. He lazily lifted his eyelids and glanced at Tyrone.

"Um."

He snorted through his nose, not even lifting a hand, his attitude utterly perfunctory.

"It's you, the corpse-collecting apprentice from Cairn Tower."

Logan certainly remembered the kid.

This dull, penniless guy had tried to talk to me about the body recycling business, but he completely failed to understand my hints. He wanted to do business without money? I kicked him out.

"What are you doing here again? If you're just trying to sell your pathetic little business, get lost."

Tyron wasn't angry; instead, his smile widened. He took a step closer and lowered his voice, saying:

"Father, you've misunderstood. I'm here today to patronize your business."

He pointed to the carriage behind him.

"I have a poor elderly couple here who hope to be buried in the church's public cemetery so that they can rest in peace."

"Their last wish was to be buried together. We ask that you, Father, do us this favor."

Logan glanced at the body bag on the carriage and sneered:

"Public cemeteries are all single graves, so where does the idea of ​​joint burial come from? That's for noble gentlemen."

"One costs 400 purple gold coins, two cost 800. Not a penny less."

Although these are the rules, there is actually a great deal of room for maneuver.

But Tyronn's smile didn't falter at all.

"The priest is kind."

He stepped forward and warmly grasped Logan's rough, large hands.

"We beseech the merciful priest to bestow the grace of the Holy Father and grant these unfortunate people a peaceful resting place."

Logan frowned, instinctively wanting to pull his hand back.

This poor kid has a surprisingly strong grip?

However, the next second, he stopped moving.

A familiar touch came from my palm.

That was a roll of banknotes.

As Logan gently ran his fingertips over the subtle raised anti-counterfeiting printing on the banknote's surface, he instantly determined its face value—100 purple gold coins, a testament to his expertise as a seasoned "clergyman."

Logan's eyes changed.

He subtly withdrew his hand and smoothly slid the rolled-up banknotes into his wide sleeve, a move so fluid and practiced that it was clearly a skill he had honed countless times.

"Cough cough."

Logan cleared his throat, forcing a professional, fake smile onto his normally indifferent face.

"This kid... he's finally figured it out," he thought to himself.

Seeing this, Tyronn pressed his advantage:

"It's fine to be buried together, even if it's a little cramped."

"I can contribute 500 purple gold coins as a funeral fee to the church's restoration fund."

500 Purple Gold Coins.

Adding the 100 he just handed over, that's 600. After deducting the 300 he handed over, Logan can make a huge profit.

Logan looked Tyron up and down.

The boy in front of me was still wearing that linen apprentice robe, but his demeanor had completely changed.

His composure, shrewdness, and the practiced way he handed over the money made him seem like a seasoned veteran.

"Could this kid have been possessed by some old monster? He's like a completely different person after only half a month!"

Logan muttered to himself, but the thought vanished in an instant.

Whether he was possessed or suddenly became enlightened, as long as the purple gold coin is real, that's all that matters.

"Since you are so devout, the Holy Father will naturally forgive their sins."

Logan quickly accepted the other 500 purple gold coins that Tyron handed over, and his attitude immediately made a 180-degree turn.

"Follow me. Let's go through the side door."

……

The churchyard.

This is a typical medieval-style cemetery.

A tall, black iron fence isolates this place from the outside world, while several lush green pine trees stand straight and tall, casting dappled shadows.

The densely packed tombstones resembled a gray forest, and the air was filled with the smell of soil and decaying flowers.

Although Father Logan was greedy, his professional competence was undeniable.

A large oak coffin was placed to the side; although the wood was of average quality, it was polished very smoothly.

The requisites for calming the soul include essential oils, silver bells, and holy water.

"You choose a spot," Logan said, pointing to an open space in front of him.

Tyron looked around and finally pointed to a corner near the west side.

There were a few unnamed wildflowers growing there, and the midday sun shone through the gaps in the leaves, giving a rare sense of brightness and peace.

"Let's go there."

Logan waved his hand.

Four burly men wearing white pointed masks, with only their eyes showing, walked over carrying shovels.

They were gravediggers specially trained by the church, possessing immense strength and being taciturn.

In just ten minutes, a deep and well-preserved burial pit was dug.

Tyron walked to the carriage and gently untied the body bag.

He gently lifted the bodies of old Jack and Grandma Linda out and carefully placed them into the oak coffin.

The two corpses lay side by side, their faces withered but their expressions serene.

Tyron thought for a moment, then reached out and lifted old Jack's thin arm, gently placing it on Grandma Linda's shoulder, so that the two were in a posture of eternal embrace.

"That way, you won't be cold."

"Tyron said softly, a hint of tenderness flashing in his eyes."

Then, the coffin lid was closed and iron nails were driven in.

Four gravediggers lifted the coffin and slowly lowered it into the grave.

Father Logan stood by the grave, shaking the silver bell in his hand.

Ding-a-ling— Ding-a-ling—

The crisp sound of bells echoed through the silent cemetery.

"Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, spirit to the Father..."

Logan muttered incantations, skillfully dripping a few drops of essential oil onto the coffin lid and then sprinkling holy water.

As the soil was backfilled, the coffin gradually disappeared from sight.

In this public cemetery where land is extremely valuable, you are not eligible to have a tombstone erected without paying extra.

This place will soon become a flat wasteland, where new dead will be buried in the future.

But Tyronn simply doesn't have the resources to erect an additional monument.

He stood before the freshly turned earth and bowed deeply three times.

"Uncle Jack".

He meditated in his heart.

"May you and your wife find peace and tranquility in eternal death."

May you love each other as you did in your past lives.

May you be free from the suffering and torment of this life in your next life.

The wind rustled through the treetops, making a soft, whispering sound, like the final whispers of the deceased.

……

The funeral ended, and the gravediggers dispersed.

Tyrone didn't rush to leave. He walked over to Father Logan, who was tidying up his religious implements, and pulled him to a secluded corner.

"Father, there's another small favor I'd like to ask you for."

Logan glanced at him sideways: "Speak."

Tyron lowered his voice and said quickly:

"I need two special corpses."

"First, the time of death must be no more than 24 hours, and the infant must be under one year old."

"Second, ordinary people who died from an overdose of alchemical drugs, with the time of death not exceeding 10 hours."

Logan paused in his hand movements, turned his head, and his eyes became somewhat amused.

When it comes to understanding the dead in this area, no one can compare to him, the priest in charge of burials.

To prevent the corpse from turning into a zombie, the death of someone in the family must be reported to the church immediately.

So, he was the first to know which family had lost a child or which drug addict had died from an overdose.

This kid, he definitely didn't come here just for a funeral.

"Your request..."

Logan deliberately dragged out his words, putting on a troubled expression.

"That's a bit harsh."

"Especially for those who died from the drug, we need to preserve the drug's effects, which is not easy to find."

Tyron understood immediately and slipped another 100-dollar coin from his sleeve, stuffing it into Logan's hand.

"I know you are very knowledgeable, Father; there is nothing in this area that you do not know."

Tyronn smiled and complimented him, while simultaneously offering his own stake:

"This material is urgently needed by my senior sister Zixing."

"If you help me this time, I'll come directly to you if my senior sister ever needs anything in the future."

"As you know, at my senior sister's level, she's really not short of money."

Upon hearing the name "Purple Star," Logan's lips curled into a disdainful sneer.

Who is Zi Xing? He is a genius from Cairn Tower, and Lord Macley's prized student.

You?

"Oh."

Logan made no attempt to hide his contempt, looking Tyron up and down as if he were a toad that didn't know its own limitations.

"Someone like you, a lowly stray dog, dares to get on Lord Zixing's good side?"

"Kid, you need to think before you brag. Don't think you can act all high and mighty just because you have some money."

Despite such blatant humiliation, Tyron's smile remained unchanged.

He didn't even flinch.

He simply reached out slowly and deliberately, and pulled something out of his inner pocket.

It was a token the size of a palm.

Made of brownish-yellow metal, the front features a bas-relief of a roaring lion, reflecting a cold luster in the sunlight.

"Father is joking."

Tyron toyed with the token in his hand, speaking as casually as if he were discussing the weather:

"I've now gained some recognition from my mentors and attended a few of their classes."

"My mentor was kind and gave me some basic trust, letting me run errands."

The moment Logan's gaze fell on the token, his pupils dilated sharply.

That's... Cairn Tower's personal inheritance token?!

As a seasoned veteran who had been in this area for many years, he knew all too well the significance of this item.

This is not just a piece of identification; it represents the will of a formal wizard!

Anyone who can get their hands on this is definitely not an ordinary apprentice!

This kid... he's actually one of Macley's men?!

The disdain on Logan's face vanished instantly, replaced by a mixture of shock, surprise, and a rapidly building fawning expression.

This change of expression is faster than turning the pages of a book.

"Oh! I see! I see!"

Father Logan rubbed his hands together, his smile so genuine it was as if Tyrone were his long-lost brother.

"I knew it! Magnus, I always felt you had enormous potential, you're bright and intelligent, and you'd definitely amount to something!"

"See? I was right about my judgment!"

He even patted Tyron on the shoulder affectionately, completely forgetting his earlier comment about "a stray dog ​​from the bottom of society".

"Come on, repeat what you just said about your requirements."

Logan leaned closer to Tyron, lowered his voice, and adopted an "one of us" demeanor:

"An infant under one year old, a drug addict who died from an overdose, right?"

"Leave it to me! I'll check the records right now! I'll try my best to get it for you at the lowest price!"

"Given our relationship, would you really be the one to suffer a loss?"

Tyrone looked at the priest who had been arrogant at first but then became obsequious, and secretly found it amusing.

In this world, power and strength are indeed the most useful.

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Father."

Tyron put away the token, his smile remaining gentle.

"I await your good news; I have other things to attend to."