The wizard era begins with the alchemist wizard

Chapter 535 Conquer
Looking at the noble who seemed to have albinism in front of him, Tyr's heart was instantly filled with fear.

How long had he not felt fear? Ten years? Twenty years? Ever since he became a cardinal, fear seemed to have been completely eliminated from him.

He is the church's fierce warrior, and fear should not appear in him.

But now he was afraid.

He felt an unprecedented pressure from this man, and the invisible pressure almost made him lose the desire to resist.

When did this man come in? How long had he been here? Was he always in this room, or did he come in with him? What was his method of making his prosthetic limb ineffective?
Questions popped up in Tyr's mind one after another, but he didn't have the strength to speak at this moment.

Looking at the silent Tyr, Richard seemed to remember something and snapped his fingers to disperse the pressure from himself. Although he was not a true level 4 creature, his pressure was no different from that of an ordinary world master.

After the pressure dissipated, Bishop Tyer finally had the strength to speak.

"Is this 'alchemy'? It can turn my prosthetic limbs into scrap metal in an instant. What an amazing skill. No, this can be called a miracle."

Richard smiled and shook his head: "This is indeed an application of alchemy."

"Can I learn it?" Thiel asked.

"You can learn it, but whether you can master it depends on your own talent."

Hearing that he could learn it, Taier's heart trembled violently. He tried to calm himself down and said in a steady tone:

"So, sage, what are the requirements for joining the church?"

"There are no conditions. As long as you are willing to pray for our Lord and help the development of the sect, that will be enough."

"That's all?" Thiel's tone was a little surprised. "But don't you want to change society?"

Richard leaned forward, his sharp eyes piercing through the visor of the mask, through Tyr's eyeballs, and straight into his heart.

"No, I have no intention of changing the world, but I think my followers will change the world spontaneously. No one wants to be crowded in a small room with seven or eight people, no one wants to be unable to work without biological modification, no one wants to try their best but can only barely survive, no one wants to struggle all their lives but can only lie on dirty straw and close their eyes.

Before this, they lacked power. But now, I will give them power.”

Richard leaned back again, his tone calm but with some expectation.

"In the past they had no choice. But now, I give them a choice. If they choose to continue living like this, then I will not fight for them. But if they are willing to change, then I am willing to provide them with some guidance and help."

"What power can you give them?" Tyr asked, "Can you make those workers become knights? The Church of the Lord of All Machines conducts a major physical examination every three years, the purpose of which is to select qualified people to be transformed into knights. I think, with your knowledge, you should know the gap between ordinary people and knights. Ten thousand ordinary people are not as important as one knight.

Can you make knights out of these ordinary workers?"

"Why not?" Richard asked in reply.

"I spent seven days evolving a mechanic from a mortal to a first-level creature. I spent another three days transforming him, allowing him to fight against a second-level creature with the essence of a first-level creature.

Although this is very expensive, not everyone needs to spend so much resources.

How many knights do you have, Tyre? One hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand? But do you know how many workers you have?

Countless!
Your technical limitations allow you to only tap into a tiny bit of this power, and I only need to tap into a little more than you to win.

And it’s not that hard.”

Anson at the side also spoke up at the right time: "Teacher, what the sage said is true. I saw with my own eyes that he upgraded a mechanic who had not been enhanced at all from a mortal to a knight."

Tyr was silent.

He suddenly felt fear again. Although he had been seeking change, he became timid when the change really came.

He felt that the man in front of him who claimed to be a sage was a devil, and every word he said seemed to carry magic.

What he said sounded absurd, but he couldn't help but think that what he said was true.

The number of workers is incalculable. If only one thousandth of their power could be tapped, the Royal Court and the Church of the Lord of All Things would be crushed like a bug under a wheel.

But...what about the two Eternal God Kings?
Compared to the God-King Yonghen, the Royal Court and the Church of All Things are just bugs.

Looking at the man in front of him, Tyr felt his heartbeat speeding up. Although his mind was still weighing the pros and cons, deep down in his heart, he had already made a decision.

Tyr asked, "Can you remove the shackles from my body first? I feel that even if I exert my full strength, I will not be able to defeat you, my lord."

“A sensible view.”

After that, Tyr saw a slender iron spike in Richard's hand. The iron spike pierced his prosthesis, leaving a barely perceptible dent. The next moment, Tyr felt a magical force flowing through his prosthesis. Under this force, the stuck gears started to work again, and the frozen levers started to move again.

As the energy backpack transferred energy and high-pressure steam into the prosthesis, Tyr instantly came back to life. Tyr moved the prosthesis, and the smooth feeling almost made him think that the confinement just now was an illusion.

He looked at Richard, then knelt on his knees and bowed deeply.

"Sir, please lead me onto the right path."

……

In the East District of Bruno City, two short figures in cloaks entered a tavern.

In most worlds, the tavern is a place where good and bad people mix together. In this place filled with people of different identities and personalities, people can always hear some interesting things.

"Old Gerry, you are still alive."

Inside the tavern, an old goblin with dark skin and a shriveled body looked at the people around him with surprise.

Beside him, an old goblin, who was about the same age as him but looked more than twice as good as him, drank up the beer in his hand and opened his arms to his old friend.

"Old Gaunt, you old thing is still alive, how can I die before you?"

The two old goblins hugged each other and then found a table to sit down.

"Old Gerry, did you win the lottery by sheer luck? I remember you couldn't move before. But now you look like this... wow, you're doing really well!"

As he said this, Old Gaunt patted Old Gerry hard on the back.

Old Gerry asked the waitress to serve the wine, and then said to him with a mysterious expression: "Bullshit lottery tickets, those things are just to fool our slaves, and the winners are all their insiders.

I was rescued by this monk."

"This monk?"

When old Gaunt heard the name, his expression changed slightly.

During this period, the name of this monk spread like a plague in East City. Some people said that he was the chosen one of the Lord of Perfection, and came to this world to save them, the workers who lived in misery.

Some people say that he is a messenger of a foreign god, who came to this world to replace the Lord of Perfection and reshape this world. Others say that he is a chosen one of the abyss, a messenger of the abyss in skin. All those who are saved by him will become slaves of the abyss in the future.

But among the many rumors, the common point is that this monk is really saving people.

But Dongcheng District is very large, and workers who work all day will have their backs broken when they get home, so they rarely go out. So the name of this monk is like an urban legend that everyone knows. Many people know about it, but few have seen it.

"Did this monk really cure your illness?" Old Gaunt was a little unbelievable.

He knew about Old Gary's disease, which was an occupational disease at the Mucha Chemical Factory. Once infected, unless he underwent long-term blood transfusions and organ replacements, he would die.

But looking at Old Gary's current appearance, he doesn't look sick at all. His physical condition is even better than that of a healthy goblin like him.

"Of course," Old Gerry replied, "Don't listen to what others say. This monk is a very good person. In my opinion, he is a saint, sent by the Lord of Perfection to save us workers."

Old Gaunt seemed to be thinking about something, then he asked, "What does the monk look like?"

"What he looks like... I'm not sure. This monk is very tall, just like a noble. When he treated me, I didn't even have time to kowtow to him, so how could I have the time to look at his appearance?"

"What was he wearing? What was he wearing?"

"When he treated me, he was wearing a gray robe with patches on it. But you may not be able to find him by looking for him this way. I tell you, if you want to find me, go find the tall man holding a wooden stick. The wooden stick in my hand is a treasure given to him by the sage, and he relies on that stick to treat illnesses."

Lao Gangte nodded and then touched his belly.

If this monk can cure diseases, can his disease be cured as well?

Old Gaunt didn't notice that while he was talking to Old Gerry, two pairs of eyes were secretly watching him.

Soon, the two men in black robes left the tavern. After they left, they walked around the dirty and complicated street system in East City. After making sure that no one was following them, the two men in black robes pulled down their hats, revealing the metal helmets unique to the Church of the Lord of All Machines.

"Father, it seems that we don't need to create a cult ourselves, Imilo."

The goblin called Imilo replied: "Loren, I feel that this cult is a little different. Healing diseases with a stick is like a plot in a drama.

The flesh-and-blood priests of the Church of the Lord of Flesh and Blood can only speed up the healing of wounds, but they can never cure diseases."

Loren laughed disdainfully at the words: "What have these peasants seen? With a little disguise, our prosthetic limbs can also look like normal people's arms.

Don't think too much. The rumors about evil cults are so miraculous, but in the end, no one can withstand the continuous steam arrows."

(End of this chapter)