The Cold World, Tylen's Principles

Creak!

The rusty hinges let out a teeth-grinding screech.

Old Jack pushed open the rickety wooden door and led Tylen into the cramped little yard.

The yard was piled high with all kinds of junk.

An oak chair missing one leg, propped up with bricks, with a faded old blanket spread over it;

Several rolls of moldy coarse linen were piled in the corner, scraps left over from Old Jack's wife's tailoring work;

And several rusty tin buckets filled with murky rainwater.

These were all "belongings" Old Jack could not bear to throw away. Every item carried decades of memories from this family.

"Linda... I'm back. I brought Mr. Tylen with me..."

As Old Jack spoke, he pushed open the door to the main room.

But the next second, his voice cut off abruptly.

Clang!

The tattered felt hat in his hand fell to the floor.

Old Jack stared blankly at the empty room. The wooden bed where the body should have been now held only a rumpled quilt.

"Linda?!"

A heart-wrenching scream shattered the deathly silence of Old Mine Street.

Old Jack rushed into the room like a madman, his hands trembling as he fumbled over the empty bed, as if he could somehow feel his vanished wife back into existence.

"She's gone... How can she be gone?!"

"I clearly left her here... I was only gone for a little while... only a little while!"

He fell to his knees, covered his face with both hands, and broke into devastated sobs.

That sound was filled with despair, self-reproach, and profound shame.

He was a useless man.

While she was alive, he had never been able to give his wife even one good day, not even afford money for her treatment.

Now that his wife was dead, he had to sell her body to the Wizard Tower just to scrape together a little living money.

That was already the greatest humiliation a husband could suffer.

But now, even that last shred of dignity had been taken from him.

He could not even protect her corpse!

Tylen stood in the doorway, watching the scene with a complicated expression.

A faint, sweetly fishy smell still lingered in the air, peculiar to a corpse before rigor mortis set in.

That meant the body had only just been taken away.

As a rational wizard apprentice, Tylen should have been immune to such separations between life and death.

In a wizard's worldview, a corpse was merely organic matter that had lost its value, and crying was the most useless form of emotional release.

But as he watched Old Jack kneel there, sobbing helplessly like a child, the heart of a Chinese man who had received a normal education could not help trembling.

The education he had received and the morality he understood would not allow him to stand here unmoved.

Old Jack was a good man.

When the original Tylen had first arrived, Old Jack had helped him greatly.

Whether for morality or gratitude, Tylen had made his decision.

"Uncle Jack."

Tylen stepped forward and gently patted Old Jack's shoulder, his voice low and calm.

"Stop crying. Crying won't solve anything. Do you have any clues? Has anyone come by recently?"

Old Jack raised his head, his face streaked with tears, snot and tears smeared everywhere.

He sniffled, fear and rage visible in his eyes.

"It was... it was the Red Wine Gang! It had to be them!"

"Linda had just passed yesterday... and those thugs came knocking."

"They offered me fifty Purple Gold Coins to take Linda away... but I refused!"

"How could I sell Linda to those beasts? I know they sell corpses to dark wizards for experiments... I wouldn't do it!"

"It must have been them... while I was gone..."

The Red Wine Gang.

Tylen narrowed his eyes slightly, a cold glint flashing through them.

They were a gang of local hoodlums entrenched in Old Mine Street, making a living through protection money, illicit liquor, and corpse trafficking.

They were like a flock of vultures, preying on the poor and squeezing even the last bit of value from the dead.

"I understand."

Tylen nodded and turned toward the door.

"Stop crying and wipe your tears. I know their boss. Come with me."

Old Jack froze for a moment, then scrambled to his feet as though he had seized a lifeline. He followed while wiping his tears.

"Thank you... Thank you, Mr. Tylen... Thank you..."

The flatbed cart jolted along the uneven cobblestone road.

As they passed through the crowded slums, the smells in the air grew increasingly complex.

The stench of fermented wine dregs, rotting fish, and that nauseating odor of decaying corpses.

After about ten minutes, a shabby wooden warehouse came into view.

Less than a hundred meters from the Heavenly Luck River, it had once been an abandoned dock warehouse. Now, it served as the Red Wine Gang's base.

All kinds of clutter were piled around the warehouse. Several small-time thugs in leather armor squatted by the entrance, smoking cheap tobacco with clubs and daggers in hand.

When they saw Tylen and Old Jack approach, the thugs immediately stood up and glared at them with hostile eyes.

Old Jack shrank back in fright, instinctively hiding behind Tylen.

"Don't be afraid."

Tylen reassured him quietly, then strode toward the warehouse entrance.

"Stop!"

A bald, burly man blocked the way.

His face was thick with flesh, a red scorpion tattooed on his neck, and he idly played with a rusty dagger.

"What do you want? This is Red Wine Gang territory. Stray rats should get lost!"

Tylen stopped and looked at him calmly.

"I'm here to see Black Glass. I have business to discuss."

"See the boss?"

The bald man looked Tylen up and down. When he saw the apprentice robe on him, a scornful smirk appeared on his lips.

"You? A Corpse Collector Apprentice? You think you're worthy of seeing our boss?"

He glanced at Old Jack cowering behind Tylen, mockery deepening in his eyes.

"Well, if it isn't the old man whose wife died. What, changed your mind? Here to sell the body? Should've done it sooner. You refused a toast only to be forced to drink!"

"You!"

Old Jack shook with rage and was about to charge forward to argue, but Tylen grabbed him and stopped him.

Tylen had seen plenty of such bullies before. Pretending not to hear, he looked inside and called out loudly.

"Brother Black Glass, do you still want to do business in the future?"

"People in our line of work value harmony. I've never seen anyone doing business who would threaten their own partner first."

The bald thug saw Tylen ignoring him and was just about to make a move...

"Let him in."

Just as the bald man hesitated, a deep voice came from the depths of the warehouse.

The bald man shot Tylen a vicious glare before stepping aside.

"Go in! Behave yourself!"

Tylen patted Old Jack's hand, signaling him to follow, then strode into the warehouse.

The warehouse was dimly lit, its air foul and stagnant.

Bundles of sacks, battered wooden crates, and wine barrels giving off strange odors were piled everywhere.

At the center of the warehouse, a broad, powerful man sat in a chair draped with tiger skin.

He stood nearly two meters tall. His short golden hair bristled like steel needles, and muscles bulged all over his body, making him look like a humanoid grizzly bear.

Black Glass.

The Red Wine Gang's boss in this area. Rumor had it that he possessed the strength of a beginner knight and was ruthless in his methods.

He held a glass of red wine and studied Tylen and Old Jack with an amused gaze.

"If you've come to collect corpses, you're welcome. But if you've come looking for trouble..."

Black Glass swirled his wineglass, and his tone abruptly turned cold.

"Then leave your lives behind."

Old Jack's legs went weak at those words, and he nearly dropped to his knees.

Tylen's expression did not change. He even took two steps forward and looked Black Glass straight in the eyes.

"Brother Black Glass, you joke."

Tylen bowed neither humbly nor arrogantly, using the customary etiquette of the underworld.

"When you live by the code, loyalty and gratitude matter most."

"Old Jack once helped me. Now that something has happened to him, I have to repay that debt."

"I know the rules. You took that body to make money. Since it's for money, there's room to negotiate."

"Name your price. What will it take for you to hand Granny Linda's body over to me?"

Black Glass raised an eyebrow in surprise.

He had not expected this apprentice, who looked thin and weak, to have such backbone.

In this dog-eat-dog slum, backbone usually meant one of two things.

Either someone had backing, or they had strength.

"Interesting."

Black Glass set down his wineglass and leaned forward, his oppressive presence crashing down at once.

"What if I don't want money?"

Tylen smiled.

He straightened his back, his eyes devoid of any fear.

"Brother Black Glass, you are a smart man."

"Although I am only an apprentice now, I'll reach Level One soon. As long as you don't make me violate the Wizard Tower's iron laws, name any other condition you want."

He spoke with remarkable composure and confidence.

Black Glass narrowed his eyes and stared at Tylen for a full five seconds.

He could already clearly sense that something was different about this man.

The previous cowardice and dullness were gone. Now, his bearing radiated confidence and calm from the inside out...

That was not something a person could suddenly fake.

Could this guy have caught the eye of some wizard? Otherwise, how could a Corpse Collector Apprentice change so drastically all of a sudden?

At that thought, he smiled.

"Hahaha! Good! I appreciate men with guts."

He slapped his thigh and picked up a thick stack of parchment from a table beside him, tossing it in front of Tylen.

"Since you have such nerve, I'll give you a chance."

"Do you know runes?"

Tylen lowered his head and glanced at the parchment on the floor.

They were standard rune-drawing sheets, printed with faint grid lines.

"You want me to draw Runic Frames?" Tylen asked.

"That's right."

Black Glass pointed at the stack of paper. "The basic frames for Karl Runes. One hundred sheets in total."

"Finish drawing them, and I'll return that old woman's body to you."

Runic Frames were the foundational patterns shared by all manner of runes. Though those basic patterns were largely identical, drawing them was extremely time-consuming.

Because the printing industry was underdeveloped, these repetitive, universally used Runic Frames had to be drawn by hand.

They did not require Mana, but demanded a high level of precision. The slightest mistake would ruin an entire sheet.

Several apprentices Tylen knew made their living doing this work.

They drew until late into the night every day, becoming hunched over before they were even old.

Under normal circumstances, an apprentice familiar with rune drawing needed about three hours to complete one hundred Runic Frames and could earn around thirty Purple Gold Coins.

But that was the ideal pace, achieved only with intense concentration.

An ordinary apprentice would become dizzy after drawing a few dozen sheets, their hands trembling too badly to hold a pen.

It was not just physical labor. It was mental torture.

"Well? Do you dare take it?" Black Glass looked at Tylen mockingly.

"If you ruin even one sheet, not only will you fail to get the body back, you'll have to pay compensation."

Tylen picked up the parchment from the ground and casually flipped through it.

For an ordinary apprentice, this truly was a miserable job.

But for someone with the [Slacker Saint Body]...

With the thirtyfold efficiency boost, it would only take a few minutes.

"No problem."

Tylen nodded readily. "There are no tools here, so I'll take it back and draw it. I'll bring it to you before noon tomorrow."

At that, he paused and looked steadily at Black Glass.

"But can I take Granny Linda's body away first?"

"Huh?"

The bald man beside him could not help laughing. "Kid, is something wrong with your brain? You want to take the body without handing over the goods? Do you think this is a charity hall?"

Black Glass flashed a vicious grin as well. "You want to take the goods without paying? What gives you the right?"

Tylen spread his hands, his expression utterly calm.

"Because I can't run."

"You know my status. You handle all the corpse collection work in this area. If I dared to deceive you, how would I keep getting by around here?"

"And if I really had some powerful backing, I wouldn't be humbling myself like this to work for you, would I?"

His words were exceedingly clear.

They not only pointed out his own weakness, but also gave Black Glass plenty of face.

Black Glass stared at Tylen for a while. I'll investigate this brat later. The ferocity in his eyes gradually faded.

"You brat... you've got some guts."

He waved a hand and said to the subordinate beside him,

"Go. Bring that old woman's body out."

"Boss? This..." The bald man hesitated.

"Quit talking nonsense! I like the look of this kid, so I'll do him a favor!"

Before long, two lackeys came out carrying a tattered burlap sack and tossed it onto the ground like garbage.

The mouth of the sack fell open, revealing the face of an old woman—thin, pale, and covered in wrinkles.

"Linda!!"

Old Jack let out a mournful cry and rushed over.

Ignoring the filth and stench on the corpse, he trembled as he stroked his wife's cheek with his rough, cracked hands, as though touching a priceless treasure.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I've made you suffer..."

He pressed his face against his wife's cold forehead. His tears dampened her ash-gray hair as he kept murmuring apologies.

Tylen silently walked over and helped Old Jack place the body onto the flatbed cart.

Then he turned and bowed to Black Glass.

"Thanks, Brother Black Glass. I'll deliver it on time tomorrow at noon."

With that, he pulled the cart and left the warehouse without looking back.

Under the blazing sun, the great river shimmered with rippling light.

The flatbed cart rolled slowly along the empty riverbank road.

Old Jack sat in the back, tightly holding his already stiffened wife in his arms.

He no longer cried. He merely stared blankly into the distance, softly humming an old folk song.

It was a song they had often sung in the wheat fields of the countryside when they were young.

"The wind blows over the hills, carrying away the scent of wheat..."

"You sit beneath the tree, mending clothes..."

"That year's moonlight shone upon your face..."

"Like an angel, pale and sorrowful..."

His voice was hoarse and off-key, yet filled with a heartbreaking tenderness.

Tylen pulled the cart, listening to the desolate song as his footsteps remained steady.

In this cruel world, devotion was perhaps the most useless thing of all.

But precisely because it was useless, it seemed all the more precious.

"Don't worry, Uncle Jack."

Tylen silently clenched his fist.

"I'll remember this debt for you."

"This humiliation and injustice! One day, I'll make them repay it all with interest."

The wind grew stronger.

It scattered the song and dispersed the faint stench of the corpse.

Only the sound of the wheels turning remained, echoing lonely through this indifferent world.