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

The classroom fell silent again.

The fresh and pleasant perfume scent gradually dissipated, leaving only ambergris and a faint smell of embalming agents in the air.

Tyron packed his things methodically until the very end, and only walked slowly to Markley after the last student had left.

He didn't speak, but simply bowed deeply.

He performed this gesture with perfect precision, his back straight and his head bowed, expressing both absolute obedience to his superior and the unique piety of a seeker of truth.

"How much did you understand?"

Markley, who was organizing his lesson plans, asked without looking up.

Although his tone remained calm, Tyron keenly caught the subtle hint of expectation within it.

"Reporting to my advisor, I understood most of it."

Tyron straightened up, his eyes sparkling with the confidence of someone who had found a mentor.

"Especially your explanation of the resonance between 'spiritual remnants' and 'magical frequencies' was simply...it was like a key that instantly unlocked that rusty door in my mind!"

He took a deep breath, his speech slightly hurried with excitement:

"When I read 'The First Understanding of the Soul' before, the book only said that you should 'feel the resentment of the dead,' which was too abstract."

"I've tried many times, but I've only gotten myself into a mental state and haven't achieved anything."

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"But after watching your demonstration, I understand that so-called 'resentment' is actually a specific spiritual frequency!"

"Your 'three shallow, one deep' pulse injection method is like striking a tuning fork at a specific frequency to induce resonance!"

"And the treatment of those bones and joints!" Tyron said more and more fluently, even gesturing unconsciously.

"The book only says to reinforce it, but it doesn't mention reserving a medium for transmitting magic."

"I used to think that as long as it was tied tight enough, it would be fine. Now I realize how stupid I was!"

"Without a medium for conduction, the magic will form vortices at the joints, hindering movement!"

……

Markley finally stopped what he was doing.

He turned around and looked at the apprentice in front of him with a completely new gaze.

surprise.

It could even be described as a shock.

As a seasoned mentor, he was all too aware of how difficult these concepts were to grasp.

Although those pampered young noblemen seemed to be listening attentively, he bet that no more than five of them truly understood the principle of "frequency resonance."

And Tyron, an ordinary person who didn't even have a complete basic education, was able to grasp the core logic so accurately during his first lecture.

"This kid's comprehension..."

Markley was secretly alarmed.

In this wizarding world that values ​​bloodlines and resources, people often overlook another talent—the ability to think logically.

The ability that Tyrone demonstrated to concretize and logically represent abstract magical concepts is precisely the most scarce quality for a high-level research wizard!

MacLehose's eyes flickered slightly.

The situation inside the tower has been quite turbulent recently.

The old tower master is getting on in years, and the several deputy tower masters are fighting fiercely for the right to succeed him.

As a centrist, MacLehose is safe for the time being, but he is feeling increasing pressure.

What happened this morning should serve as a wake-up call.

He needs help.

Although those aristocratic students had abundant resources, they all had powerful families behind them and could not possibly be truly loyal to him.

And Tyron...

He has a clean background and is in a very low social class, facing a huge survival crisis.

Such people can become the most loyal hounds if given even a little bit of sweetness.

"good."

Markley nodded, his tone softening slightly.

"Your understanding is spot on. It seems you've really put in a lot of hard work."

He didn't make any direct promises, nor did he accept any apprentices on the spot.

For those in positions of power, things given away easily are often not valued.

"I'll keep these three bodies. These two were handled well, so I'll give you double the work time."

"Thank you, mentor! Thank you for your generosity!"

Tyron bowed deeply again, his face filled with tears of gratitude.

But his lowered eyes revealed a clear and calm demeanor.

He knew that the seed had been planted.

Next, all you need to do is wait for it to sprout.

……

Coming down from the seventeenth floor, Tyron pulled a small cart loaded with boxes, skillfully navigating the maze-like corridors, and arrived at the large classroom located on the west side of the first floor.

This is the world of apprentices from the bottom.

Pushing open the heavy oak door, a wave of heat, a mixture of sweat, foot odor, cheap tobacco smell, and various strange alchemical materials wafted out.

The huge lecture hall was packed with more than three hundred people.

Most of them wore faded coarse cloth robes, and some even wore patched linen clothes.

Exhaustion and anxiety were etched on everyone's faces, the marks left by long-term malnutrition and mental stress.

Tyron found a corner at the back, parked the stroller outside the door, and went inside.

On the platform, a young man in a gray robe is giving a lecture.

He was a seventh-level apprentice named Ron, who was a teaching assistant responsible for substituting for the lower-level apprentices.

"...Regarding the concentration of mental energy, everyone should pay attention to the 'stillness of mind' mentioned in Chapter 3, Section 2 of the 'Meditation Atlas,' which refers to eliminating distracting thoughts..."

Ron's voice was dry and monotone, like he was chanting a mantra.

He read the contents of the book aloud, occasionally drawing a few crooked runes on the blackboard, ignoring the drowsy students below.

As Tyron sat on the hard wooden bench, listening to the hypnotic lecture, a bitter sense of mockery welled up inside him.

"That's the difference."

Just two hours ago, he was in that high-class classroom filled with the scent of ambergris, listening to a formal wizard explain the essence of magic in a simple and easy-to-understand way, and watching a precise and perfect practical demonstration.

And now, here, hundreds of people are crammed together, listening to a teaching assistant who isn't even a proper wizard repeating those obscure and incomprehensible dead words from the book.

There was no demonstration, no interaction, and no core techniques.

You can listen to this kind of lesson a thousand times and you still won't learn real magic.

"It is difficult to go from extravagance to frugality; the ancients were right."

Tyron sighed, suppressing the urge to leave, and forced himself to sit up straight.

Although the content is terrible, it's still a required course, and attendance is recorded.

In this hierarchical system, he was not even allowed to skip class.

……

After enduring two long hours, when the clock struck noon, the bell finally rang to signal the end of get out of class.

Tyron followed the crowd out of the classroom and saw that familiar figure at the door.

Old Jack.

The man in his fifties, wearing a faded old vest and clutching a tattered felt hat, stood there awkwardly.

His face was deeply lined with wrinkles, his eyes were cloudy, and his back was hunched over like a bow bent by life.

When he saw Tyrone come out, a glimmer of light appeared in Old Jack's cloudy eyes, and he quickly went to greet him.

"Little Ma... um..."

His voice was ingratiating and eager.

"Yeah, just got out of class."

Tyron nodded, without putting on any airs.

"Let's go get something to eat first, then we'll go pick up your...wife."

Upon hearing the word "wife," old Jack's eyes instantly reddened, his lips trembled a few times, and in the end he simply nodded heavily.

The two hurriedly ate a few mouthfuls of oatmeal porridge, which was like paste, in the canteen. Then, Tyron pulled the flatbed cart, which was used to transport corpses, and carried Old Jack away from the Wizard Tower.

After passing through the gloomy gates of the tower area, the view suddenly opened up.

The Wizard Tower of Kane is located on the north side of Lion City, separated by a wide canal.

It was noon, and the sunlight dispelled the morning mist, slowly unfolding this picture full of medieval fantasy.

On the Tianyun River, which is 100 meters wide, boats of all sizes ply the waters one after another.

Three-masted merchant ships with huge sails, laden with spices and silk from the south, slowly sailed into the port;

There are also small speedboats powered by magic, with blue tail flames shooting out from the stern, leaving white streaks on the water.

More common were the simple awning boats, with bare-chested boatmen shouting work chants and rowing the heavy oars with all their might.

Across the river lies Lion City.

It was an extremely magnificent city.

The 30-meter-high gray-white city wall meanders like a giant dragon, covered with traces of erosion from the years and the faint glow of defensive magic arrays.

Inside the city walls, countless pointed buildings rise from the ground.

The tallest is naturally the Cathedral of Holy Light, located in the city center. Its huge white dome shines brightly in the sunlight, and the cross at the top seems to pierce the sky.

Around the church, scattered in a well-organized manner are lords' castles, nobles' manors, merchant towers, and densely packed commoners' residences.

Tyrone drove his carriage across the stone bridge connecting the two banks.

The bridge was bustling with people.

Farmers driving oxcarts piled high with pumpkins and cabbages were shouting for people to make way.

Mercenaries dressed in leather armor and with longswords at their waists were chatting in small groups about their recent missions and the romantic escapades in the tavern.

There were also low-level wizards dressed in silk robes and carrying staffs, hurrying through the crowd, while the surrounding commoners gave way in awe.

Occasionally, you can see a group of fully armed knights riding tall horses clad in iron armor, thundering across the bridge and kicking up clouds of dust.

This is the true face of the world.

Prosperity and backwardness coexist, magic and cold weapons intertwine, ignorance and knowledge are entangled, and divine authority and royal authority are locked in a struggle.

And all of this was built upon a strict hierarchical system.

Tyron watched all this without much emotion.

In his previous life, he had seen jungles of reinforced concrete and neon-lit nightscapes. Although what he saw before him was spectacular, it gave him a sense of backwardness.

"pony."

Old Jack's voice interrupted his thoughts.

The carriage passed through the bustling commercial district and turned into a narrow, dark street.

The air here is filled with a sour smell, a mixture of coal smoke, sour food, and clothes that have been sitting dry for a long time.

The houses on both sides have become low and dilapidated, with peeling paint revealing dark bricks and stones underneath.

The streets were so narrow that only one carriage could barely pass through, and the ground was full of potholes and sewage.

Old Mine Street.

One of the oldest and poorest neighborhoods in Lion City.

The people living here are mostly miners, coolies, prostitutes, and thieves.

It's also the place Tyron frequents most often.

Because this is where the most people die, and where the bodies are the cheapest.

Tyron was somewhat taken aback: "I remember you used to live on Barbed Fiber Street, didn't you?"

Old Jack bit his lip: "Sold it...to pay off the debt."

"It's just ahead... turn left and you'll find it..."

His rough, cracked fingers pointed to a dilapidated wooden house in the distance, his voice began to choke, and tears streamed down his face.

My son is gone, my home is gone, and my wife is gone.

The once bright and sturdy courtyard has become someone else's home.

The love of his life died in this dilapidated wooden house...

The root of it all is the terrifying exploitation by the Wizard Tower.

Tyrone reined in his horse, looking calmly at the dilapidated wooden door.

As a corpse collector, he had seen too many scenes like this.

Sadness is cheap here.

Only survival is expensive.

"Let's go."

Tyrone jumped off the carriage, straightened his apprentice robes, and walked towards the door first.

"Go and see her off on her final journey."