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

Fifteen minutes later.

A slightly dilapidated handcart slowly came to a stop on the busiest street in the outer ring of the eastern district.

Tyron jumped off the carriage and looked up at the magnificent eight-story building in front of him.

A huge plaque hangs above the main gate, with the four characters "Eye of the White Clouds" written in the elegant calligraphy of the Second Era's Golden Thorn Dynasty nobles.

The characters are winding and twisting, like roses blooming in a thicket of golden thorns, exuding an ancient and elegant aristocratic air.

Quinn Street is the largest distribution center for magical materials in the entire outer ring area.

The entrance was bustling with people: formal wizards in exquisite robes, senior apprentices rushing about, and even hooded merchants from other races coming and going; business was booming.

Tyrion tied the old horse to the roadside hitching post, reached out and touched the stiff spool in his arms, confirming for the seventh time that it was still there, before taking a deep breath and striding inside.

Pushing open the heavy double oak door, a faint scent of ink and parchment wafts out.

Inside is a spacious and bright lobby. Directly in front is a spiral staircase leading to the second floor, with handrails polished to a mirror shine.

There is a long mahogany counter on each side of the lobby.

The counter on the left is filled with a dazzling array of raw materials needed for runic writing: from the most basic starlight paper and dragon blood grass ink to the precise mithril engraving knife and crystal ruler, everything is available.

The counter on the right was covered with completed rune scrolls.

Categorized by function: combat, healing, reconnaissance, traps... the colorful labels are dazzling.

However, Tyron's arrival disrupted the previously harmonious atmosphere in the lobby.

Although he had taken off his blood-stained apprentice uniform, the shirt underneath still carried a faint smell of blood.

Not to mention the faint stench of death emanating from him, which was practically a biological weapon to a spellcaster with a keen sense of smell.

"What does it taste like?"

"It stinks..."

Customers browsing on both sides frowned, covered their noses, and gave Tyron a disgusted look.

Upon seeing this, a young doorman guarding the lobby entrance immediately ran over.

He sized Tyron up and down, his face filled with undisguised disgust.

"Hey! You, the one collecting the corpses! Get lost!"

The doorman waved his arms, as if shooing away an annoying fly:

"We don't accept corpses here! Don't bring bad luck in! Get out of here right now!"

Tyron was neither angry nor did he argue.

He simply glanced at the doorman calmly, then turned and walked out the door.

Seeing this, the doorman snorted and turned to return to his post.

Just then.

A hand suddenly reached out and grabbed the doorman's wrist.

"What are you doing?!"

The doorman was startled and was about to get angry when he suddenly caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

A palm-sized, brownish-yellow metal token was visible through Tyron's slightly open shirt.

The roaring lion relief on the token gleamed with a cold luster in the sunlight.

That's... Lord Kane's keepsake?!

The doorman's pupils dilated in surprise; his eyes, which had just been full of disdain, were now filled with shock and disbelief.

As someone who makes a living on this street, he knew all too well what this token represented.

"Shhh."

Tyron put his index finger to his lips, and his deep voice rang in the doorman's ear:

"I have been instructed by my mentor to have an important mission to meet with your boss."

The doorman immediately understood.

This isn't some poor wretch collecting corpses; it's clearly a confidant of some important figure on a clandestine mission!

"Please...please wait a moment!"

The doorman's attitude instantly underwent a complete 180-degree turn; his previously disdainful tone became extremely respectful, even bordering on obsequious.

"I'll go inform the boss! He'll be right there!"

After saying that, the doorman ran up the spiral staircase to the second floor, as fast as if his buttocks were on fire.

Less than a minute later, the doorman came running down, panting, and bowed, gesturing for him to enter.

"Sir, the boss requests your presence. Please follow me."

……

Follow the doorman up the spiral staircase to the second floor.

The environment here is more private and luxurious than on the first floor.

The first thing you see is a spacious rest area covered with a thick, long-haired carpet.

On the left and right sides are two quiet corridors, with private rooms on both sides offering strict privacy.

The doorman led Tyron to room 202 at the end of the corridor, knocked gently on the door, and then respectfully pushed it open.

"Please come in."

Tyron entered the room.

This is a tastefully decorated office.

A middle-aged man wearing a blue silk robe was sitting behind a large desk.

He was slightly overweight, with a fair complexion and an air of elegance and nobility; he was clearly someone who had long held a high position.

At this moment, he was leaning back in his chair, gently playing with the huge jade thumb ring on his thumb.

Upon seeing Tyron enter, the middle-aged man frowned slightly, clearly having also detected the faint smell of blood.

"How did you get into such a mess?"

The middle-aged man's voice was deep and magnetic, carrying an aura of authority without anger.

Tyron stood before the desk, hands at his sides, his tone respectful and calm:

"Reporting to you, sir, we were attacked on the way. In self-defense, we killed or wounded several people."

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man raised his eyebrows slightly, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

He waved his hand, signaling the doorman to close the door and leave.

With the door closed, only two people remained in the room.

"What do you need me for?" the middle-aged man asked.

Tyronn didn't answer directly, but cautiously asked in return:

"Excuse me, are you the owner of this White Cloud Eye Rune shop?"

The middle-aged man nodded: "Yes."

Tyron then asked, "May I ask your name?"

The middle-aged man seemed a little impatient, tapping his fingers on the table: "Karen Stipunk."

Upon hearing this name, Tyron finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He bowed again, his tone sincere:

"Please forgive me, Mr. Stipunk. This is my first time carrying out a mentor's mission, so I must be careful to avoid sending the wrong person."

Then he asked:

"Excuse me, what did you and my advisor agree on today?"

This is the final confirmation.

Stipunk looked at the overly cautious boy before him, and a playful smile finally appeared on his lips:

"Your teacher asked you to give me a scroll."

"call……"

Tyronn completely relaxed.

He carefully took the scroll, warmed by his body heat, from his pocket, held it with both hands, and respectfully placed it on the desk.

"This is what my mentor asked me to pass on to you."

Stipunk did not rush to roll up the scroll.

He calmly picked up the scroll, unsealed it, and unfolded it for a glance.

Then, he suddenly handed the reel to Tyron, saying with a half-smile:

"Take a look. This is something your teacher specifically left for you. It contains the relevant information and passwords for your upcoming communication with me."

Tyron was taken aback.

But he didn't reach out to take it, and didn't even glance at the scroll.

He lowered his head, staring at his toes, his tone respectful yet firm:

"Excuse me, sir."

"My advisor ordered me not to look at anything on it under any circumstances."

The air in the room seemed to freeze instantly.

Stipunk slowly stood up.

A terrifying aura belonging to a formal wizard emanated from him like a tidal wave, instantly filling the entire room.

Tyron felt a weight on his shoulders, as if a mountain was pressing down on him, making it difficult to breathe.

Are you questioning me?

Stipunk's voice turned icy cold, his eyes sharp as a hawk's:

"This scroll contains your teacher's orders! I'm showing it to you now, do you dare disobey?"

Faced with this terrifying pressure, fine beads of sweat appeared on Tyren's forehead.

But he still didn't look up or take a step back.

He held his breath, his posture remaining respectful, but his tone was harder than steel:

"Mr. Stipunk."

"I cannot confirm whether the commands on the reel are genuine, nor can I be certain whether what you are saying is true."

"As an apprentice, I only obey the orders given by my master."

The teacher ordered me: "Don't look at anything on it."

"This is my principle."

silence.

Dead silence.

Stig stared intently at Tyrion, his oppressive aura growing heavier and heavier, as if he were about to crush this arrogant apprentice at any moment.

However, Tyron kept his head down, like a stubborn stone.

a long time.

"snort."

Stipunk suddenly let out a cold snort, and that terrifying pressure instantly vanished without a trace.

He plopped back into his chair, his face regaining its usual languid smile, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion.

"Alright."

Stipunk waved his hand, a hint of barely perceptible admiration in his tone:

"Go back and tell your teacher that I have received the items."

Tyronn then raised his head, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and bowed again:

"Yes, sir."

After saying that, he turned around and prepared to leave.

Just as his hand was about to touch the doorknob, Stipunk's voice rang out again:

"By the way, how much do you know about the 'magic resonance' theory in runic literature?"

Tyron stopped, turned around, and a perfectly balanced look of confusion and humility appeared on his face:

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a beginner and don't know much about the complexities of magic."

Stipunk gave him a deep look, smiled, and waved.

"Go."

……

After Tyron left the room, the sound of his footsteps gradually faded away.

Stipunk waved his hand casually.

On the wall opposite the desk, a huge mercury mirror slowly appeared.

The mirror rippled, revealing the scene on the twenty-third floor of the Wizarding Tower of Kane.

MacLehley was sitting in that high-backed chair, holding a cup of black tea, watching them with a smile.

"grown ups."

Stipunk bowed slightly to Macley's reflection in the mirror, his tone filled with admiration:

"Your insight remains as sharp and accurate as ever."

"This Magnus may not seem to have much talent, and his magical perception is mediocre, but his temperament... is indeed a rare talent."

"Faced with my pressure and temptation, he was able to remain completely unfazed and stick to his bottom line."

"With this kind of composure, let alone a level 0 apprentice, even many level 5 or 6 apprentices would be completely flustered after I scared them like this. It's really impressive that he can still remember your command."

On the other side of the mirror, Macley put down his teacup, a barely suppressed smile curving his lips:

"Haha, Karen, I knew you'd say that."

"This kid will be in charge of running errands for all our future transactions."

"As you can see, this kid is quite cautious and sensible, and most importantly—he knows how to hide his talents."

"You were just doing such a smooth 'magic resonance' on the street, but you pretended to be stupid and said you didn't understand magic in front of me."

Stipunk smiled and nodded:

"Yes. It's truly rare to have such composure and maturity at his age."

"I've also received news of what just happened on Truth Avenue."

"I must say, sir, this place is practically a talent wholesale market."

"Just a few years ago, we had a brilliant and talented Zi Xing, and now we have a seasoned and steady Magnus."

Stipunk sighed, his tone tinged with bitterness:

"Compared to yours, my apprentices are utterly stupid."

"Besides asking for resources, all he does is cause me trouble. He almost made me have a brain hemorrhage several times."

Markley laughed heartily, clearly in a very good mood:

"Alright, stop complaining. This kid does have a good talent for runes, especially his ability to apply what he's learned in real combat."

"When you have time later, you can teach him a few tricks."

"After all, he's running errands for me, so he has to have some ability to protect himself, lest he really die on the way."

Stipunk nodded and solemnly promised:

"Don't worry about that. As long as this kid is reliable and steady enough, he'll definitely get his share of the benefits."

……

The Twenty-Three Floors of the Wizarding Tower of Kane.

The communication ended, and the mercury mirror slowly dissipated.

Markley could no longer maintain his aloof and dignified mentor persona. He suddenly slapped his thigh and burst into excited laughter:

"Great! Great! That's wonderful!"

In today's series of tests, Tyronn's performance was simply perfect!

At the church, he knew how to exploit Father Logan's greed and use his influence to quickly build a network of relationships.

On the Avenue of Truth, facing Hagrid's provocation, he knew how to use the rules of the Wizard's Tower to initiate a duel.

Not only did they rightfully eliminate the enemy, but they also spent money to appease the guards and save themselves.

Although he lacked experience and was repeatedly ambushed by the thugs and the brother and sister, he reacted quickly, learned his lesson, and was not ambushed a second time.

Finally, when faced with Stipunk's probing, he demonstrated absolute loyalty and principle.

Each and every one of these things perfectly exceeded Markley's expectations.

"Of course, it's not without its flaws."

Markley stroked his chin, recalling Tyron's calculating demeanor on the road.

This guy is quite adept at spending public funds at will.

He slipped money to Father Logan, slipped money to the guards, and even considered whether he should secretly buy some good food.

It's clear that this guy has been using his position to skim off a lot of money for himself.

Even on the way to the White Cloud Eye Shop, he kept muttering about how to make some money for himself by doing this corpse collection business, and then thinking about how to make false accounts to balance the books.

But is that a drawback for Markley?

Do not!

This is simply the best of the best!

"Those who are truly not greedy are the ones we need to be wary of."

Markley gave a cold laugh.

"You're not greedy for money, not greedy for women, not greedy for power... so what are you after? My position? Or my life?"

"Only those who wear their desires on their sleeves are the easiest to control."

Throughout the process, MacLeod could clearly see Tyron's extreme desire for money and upward mobility.

This desire is the best rein.

"This kid is mature and cautious, has extremely high emotional intelligence, and is good at socializing."

"Knowing how to repay kindness and having a moral bottom line."

"They have a strong learning ability and an insatiable thirst for knowledge and money."

"This is the core confidant I've been looking for!"

MacLehley stood up, walked to the window, looked down at the bustling city below, and his eyes gleamed with ambition.

"I have plenty of ways to make a disciple like this obediently pledge his loyalty."

"Now that the test is over, it's time to give this kid a taste of his own medicine and teach him some real skills."

Thinking of the series of assassinations today, Macley's eyes darkened slightly.

Having held a high position for many years, he had somewhat forgotten the cruelty of those at the bottom.

The madness that those at the bottom of society can display in the face of even the slightest hope of getting ahead is truly terrifying.

"Looks like I'll have to prepare a decent set of defensive spells for him..."

"He probably can't master magic, but luckily he's good at runic magic."

"Then let's give him a set of defensive runes!"

Then, Markley immediately turned around with a smug look and began searching for knowledge in his collection of books. He was much more attentive than he was during his daily classes.

While Macley was figuring out which rune to give to Tyron, Tyron had already driven back to the Church of St. Dominican Republic.

Upon seeing Tyrone return, Father Logan walked over with a broad smile and said, "You're in luck, kid. I've taken care of both the overdose corpse and the baby's body for you."

Upon hearing this, Tyrone immediately smiled and said, "Thank you, kind priest!"

He then took out two 500-yuan coins from his pocket, handed them over with both hands, and said with a smile, "Thank you for your hard work!"

Father Logan smoothly slipped the 1000 purple gold coins into his sleeve, then waved his hand, and the two gravediggers placed the two corpses, one large and one small, onto Tyrion's cart.

Father Logan then asked with a smile, "I have two corpses that were just delivered here. Do you want them? Since no one has claimed them, I'll sell them to you for 100 purple gold coins."

Tyron raised an eyebrow and asked, "What kind of corpse can I see?"

Father Logan then led Tyrone to the side chapel where the body was kept. When the white sheet covering the body was lifted, Tyrone's eyes were filled with complex emotions.

Because the two corpses were the brother and sister who had attacked him earlier.

Furthermore, judging from the posture of the corpse, it seems that it has been desecrated by some people.

After a few seconds of silence, Tyron took out 100 purple gold coins: "Okay, I'll take them."