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

Tyron took a deep breath, and the humility and fear on his face vanished instantly.

Instead, there was a deathly silence and coldness, like a deep pool.

By this time, Hagrid had lost his patience.

"Do it! Kill him!"

At his command, the four henchmen pulled out sharp boning knives from their pockets, which gleamed coldly in the sunlight, and surrounded him.

A gasp went up from the surrounding crowd.

"Oh my god! They're using knives!"

"Have these apprentices gone mad? Killing people in the street?"

Faced with the gleaming blade, Tyron did not retreat an inch.

He straightened his back, his eyes blazing, and shouted at Hagrid:

"Hagrid!!"

This loud shout was like a thunderclap, making everyone present's ears ring.

"You don't care about the reputation of the Wizarding Tower of Kane, but I do!"

"As long as I remain in the Wizarding Tower of Kane, I am a member! I will not allow a scoundrel like you to tarnish the honor of the Wizarding Tower!"

Tyrion extended his right hand, pointing it directly at Hagrid's forehead, his voice firm and resonant:

"Hagrid, I, Magnus, challenge you to a sacred wizarding duel!!"

Whoosh—!

The moment that powerful shout was uttered, the surrounding crowd erupted in an uproar.

The crowd quickly gathered, forming a tight circle three or four deep.

A hooded thief with a dagger at his waist leaned against the wall, a straw dangling from his mouth, and sneered:

"Tsk tsk, has the world become so corrupt these days? Even apprentices who collect corpses are starting to get serious, engaging in duels?"

Beside her, a middle-aged seamstress holding a roll of cloth shook her head and sighed:

"What kind of duel is this? It's just a one-sided massacre."

"That tall guy is a notorious bully around here, he's got people on his hands. That skinny kid's in for it today."

"I don't think so."

A senior apprentice dressed in an exquisite robe passed by, stopped, and looked at the scene with interest: "That kid's eyes... don't seem like he's courting death."

At the very front of the crowd, a hot female mercenary was watching the show with her arms crossed.

She had fiery red hair, her wheat-colored skin glowed with a healthy sheen in the sunlight, and her tight-fitting leather armor outlined her breathtaking curves.

"That's interesting."

The mercenary licked her lips, her wild eyes fixed on Tyron: "To remain so calm in the face of such a desperate situation, this kid... is either a madman or he has a trump card."

"What kind of trump cards could a level 0, malnourished corpse-collecting apprentice possibly have?"

In the center of the field.

When Hagrid heard the word "duel," he was stunned for a moment, then laughed so hard that tears almost came out.

"A duel? With your abilities?"

He looked disdainfully at Tyrion's gaunt frame, toying with the heavy boning knife in his hand.

"You're not worthy to duel me! Since you want to die a glorious death, then I'll grant your wish!"

"Brothers, charge!"

Before he could finish speaking, Hagrid had already charged out first.

Although he was huge, he was exceptionally agile.

Like a runaway wild boar, with a whooshing sound, the boning knife in his hand went straight for Tyrion's heart.

This strike was swift, precise, and ruthless.

They were solely focused on killing people.

Just as the blade was about to touch Tyron's chest.

Moved.

Tyronn's figure flashed to the left like a ghost, barely avoiding the fatal blow.

Immediately afterwards, instead of retreating, he advanced.

He took a step forward and immediately nestled into Hagrid's arms.

"court death!"

Hagrid was not surprised but rather pleased upon seeing this.

Close combat? That's his forte!

He grinned maliciously, raised his left hand, and prepared to grab Tyron's shoulder. Then, with his right hand, he swung the knife back and ripped the boy open.

He could even picture the wonderful scene of Tyrion's internal organs spilling out onto the ground.

however.

Tyron raised his right hand.

He was not carrying a knife or a sword.

It was just an ordinary, even somewhat pale, hand.

With his five fingers together, like a hand knife, he lightly chopped down toward Hagrid's shoulder.

"Ha! Are you here to tickle me?"

Hagrid laughed mockingly, completely disregarding the weak attack.

He straightened his chest, not even bothering to dodge.

He had developed a strong physique from a young age, so much so that even a wooden stick would break if it hit him, let alone a fleshy palm.

but.

The instant Tyrion's hand touched Hagrid's shoulder.

hum!

A very faint, yet unsettling, high-frequency vibration sound rang out.

That was the lament of magic compressed to its limit.

[Magic Assassination Technique - Hand Chop Form]

puff!

There was no impact sound.

Only the dull thud of a sharp blade cutting into rotten leather.

Hagrid's sinister smile froze instantly.

The next second, an indescribable, intense pain, like an electric current, instantly coursed through his entire body, overwhelming his reason.

The feeling was like being cleaved in two by a giant, red-hot axe.

"Well……?"

Hagrid lowered his head in bewilderment.

He witnessed a scene that froze his soul.

Tyron's hand sliced ​​through his linen robe and tough muscles as easily as cutting tofu.

Then, it flows downwards.

Click!

Clavicle fracture.

puff!

The chest cavity was opened, and the lung lobes were neatly cut off.

Finally, that hand, imbued with the aura of death, precisely severed the aorta above his heart.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye.

puff--!!!

It was as if a blood-red bomb had exploded inside Hagrid's chest.

A massive amount of blood mixed with the gas spewing from the lungs gushed out through the horrific wound, forming a fountain of blood that sprayed directly onto Tyrion's face and body.

Tyron stood in the rain of blood, not even blinking.

With a calm expression, he withdrew his hand, and blood dripped from his fingertips onto the ground, pooling into a shocking pool of blood.

Hagrid opened his mouth wide, and a strange "clucking" sound came from his throat.

He tried to raise his hand, tried to speak, but a terrifying feeling of suffocation instantly enveloped his brain.

Life force is rapidly lost as blood gushes forth.

Boom!

Its massive, towering body fell straight backward, crashing heavily onto the stone pavement and kicking up a cloud of dust.

It twitched twice, then fell silent.

Do not look down.

Quiet.

A deathly silence.

The once bustling street was now so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The four henchmen who had been so aggressive were now all pale-faced, and their boning knives clattered to the ground.

They looked at their leader lying in a pool of blood, his chest almost split in two, his legs shaking uncontrollably, and even his crotch was soaked with sweat.

The onlookers were dumbfounded, their mouths agape, as if they had witnessed some incredible miracle.

"What...what is this?"

The hooded thief was so startled that he dropped his cigarette, muttering to himself, "A hand chop? That's magic? How sneaky... but it seems quite suitable for me!"

The seamstress was so frightened that she covered her eyes, unable to bear the sight of the bloodshed.

"Such sharp control over magic."

The senior apprentice's expression was grave, his eyes filled with apprehension: "He's solidified the level one spell, Magic Thorn, on his palm? And he can even achieve this level of cutting power? Is this kid really a corpse-collecting apprentice?"

The red-haired female mercenary's eyes shone even brighter.

She looked at Tyron, who was covered in blood but remained expressionless, lightly licked her red lips, and chuckled softly:

"Ruthless enough, powerful enough. This little guy... I like him."

Just as everyone was discussing and shocked.

A sharp whistle blew.

"Get out of the way! Everyone get out of the way!"

Two fully armed city guards pushed through the crowd and strode in.

Seeing the corpses and blood on the ground, the guard frowned and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"What's going on? Who's causing trouble?"

One of the guards glanced at Hagrid on the ground, recognized the apprentice robes, and immediately curled his lip in disinterest.

It's those same group of apprentices from the Wizard Tower again.

These guys are always talking nonsense, and it's common for one or two people to die. As long as civilians aren't harmed, they don't care.

Tyron had already withdrawn his hand.

He casually wiped the blood off his hands on Hagrid's body, then turned and gave the guards an impeccable salute.

Although his face was covered in blood, his calm and composed demeanor only made him seem more eerie and dangerous.

"Good day, sirs."

Tyron's voice was so calm, as if he were recounting something trivial:

"I am Magnus, an apprentice at the Kane Wizard Tower. These men just tried to rob my goods and physically assaulted me."

"To uphold the honor of the Wizard Tower and my personal safety, I was forced to challenge him to a duel."

"This is an internal matter of the Wizard Tower of Kane. It's a pity he lost the duel."

As he spoke, Tyron walked forward quite naturally and, using his body as cover, slipped two banknotes into the guard's hand.

"This is 200 purple gold coins."

Tyronn smiled and said:

"I've dirtied the city and caused you all trouble."

"Consider this money my fine and a reward for everyone's hard work."

The guard weighed the object in his hand, and the serious expression on his face instantly melted away.

200 Purple Gold Coins! Enough for them to have some fun on Spring Flower Street tonight.

Moreover, the surrounding crowd also testified:

"Yes, sir, it was that big guy who started it!"

"That kid already challenged me to a duel; it was self-defense!"

"That big guy was a local tyrant; he deserved to die!"

Public opinion is overwhelmingly in favor of the government.

The two guards exchanged a glance and nodded knowingly.

Since there's money to be made, it's just an internal dispute within the Wizard Tower, and the dead man was a notorious thug, what's the point of investigating?

"Cough cough."

The lead guard cleared his throat, put away his money pouch, and waved his hand:

"Since it's a wizard duel, then there's nothing for us to do."

"Be more careful next time, don't do such a bloody thing in the street. Dispose of the body quickly!"

After saying that, the two turned and left, their departure swift and decisive.

Tyron watched the guards leave, then turned around and looked coldly at his four terrified underlings.

"What are you still standing there for?"

Tyrion pointed to Hagrid's corpse on the ground, then to the empty seat in his carriage.

"Move him upstairs."

"Since he's here to steal the corpse, let him become a corpse himself and come with me."

The four henchmen, as if granted a pardon, rushed over and hurriedly stuffed their former boss into a body bag.

Tyron stood in the sunlight, listening to the notification sound in his mind indicating that the mission was complete, a cold smile curving his lips.

Do you even understand the true value of "Don't underestimate a young person's potential"?