Old Jack's Evil Spirit, an Unexpected Windfall

The basement still held the lingering fragrance of the Meditation Essential Oil.

Tylen had just put on his signature brown linen robe and was preparing to leave when a familiar flutter of wings came from outside the window.

Caw!

The Crow, its eyes burning with eerie green flames, landed on the windowsill once more.

Tylen immediately stopped what he was doing, turned around, clasped his hands, and performed a flawless apprentice's salute.

"Master."

The Crow said nothing. It simply opened its beak and spat out a heavy black pouch, which landed on the table with a dull thud.

Then it pointed at the pouch with one black claw, signaling for Tylen to open it.

Tylen stepped forward and untied the cord.

Inside the pouch were two things:

A palm-sized token, made of something that looked like gold but wasn't, its surface a tawny brown. A roaring lion was embossed on the front—the insignia of the Cain Wizard Tower—while the back was engraved with an intricate anti-counterfeiting rune.

And four crisp Purple Gold Coin banknotes, each with a face value of 500.

"This is the Wizard token that represents my identity."

Makley's voice came through the Crow, carrying an unquestionable authority.

"If anyone gives you trouble, show them this. No one in the Lower City dares to disrespect me. At the very least, it'll keep you safe."

"As for the money, it's your senior sister's payment for retrieving the bodies. Don't disappoint her."

With that, the Crow flapped its wings and vanished from the window.

"Thank you for your protection, Master."

Tylen bowed once more toward the empty windowsill.

But he didn't put the token away right away.

He picked up the heavy lion-headed token and gently traced the runes on its back with his fingers.

The basement was quiet, save for the sound of his breathing.

As he turned to continue packing, Tylen suddenly realized that he no longer felt as light as before.

The space is still enclosed and isolated, and I'm still alone, but the Slacker Saint Body isn't taking effect...

That means...

Understanding dawned on Tylen.

This token wasn't just a protective charm. It was also a portable surveillance camera.

It must have been enchanted with a high-level spell like Eagle Eye Spell or Arcane Mark.

Makley had given him an opportunity, but trust was a luxury for Wizards.

Delivering a message and retrieving bodies—both tasks were tests in every sense.

Tylen kept his expression unchanged, as if he hadn't noticed anything, and carefully tucked the token against his chest.

Then he neatly folded the four large-denomination bills and slipped them into his inner pocket.

"Let's go."

He picked up the Runic Frame he'd hurriedly made last night, opened the door, and drove his carriage away from the Wizard Tower.

The carriage jolted along the gravel road.

Tylen drove it over the bridge with practiced ease and headed west, following the river to the border between the slums and the Lower City—Old Mine Street.

This was where Old Jack lived.

Although he'd said his goodbyes yesterday, Tylen had already begun to suspect the truth. Since it was on his way, though, he still wanted to take a look.

From what he knew of those scum in the Red Wine Gang, as long as there was even a little profit to be squeezed out, they wouldn't let any target go easily.

If he could help, he would.

Ten minutes later.

The carriage stopped in front of the rickety wooden shack.

The door stood ajar.

Tylen jumped down and pushed it open.

The room was empty.

On the lone wooden bed, only a few scraps of cloth and a pool of blood that hadn't yet dried remained.

Old Jack and Granny Linda's bodies were gone.

"Those bastards."

Tylen's fist clenched, his knuckles turning white.

"I made myself perfectly clear, and I even drew the runes for you... You people won't even leave the dead alone!"

He knew that Old Jack had already given up on life yesterday.

All he'd wanted was to stay by his wife's side until the end, and help her leave this world with dignity.

But now, even that final wish had been trampled.

Tylen took a deep breath, forcing down his anger.

"To the warehouse."

He leapt onto the carriage and gave the reins a sharp flick.

The old horse seemed to sense its master's anger. It whinnied and galloped toward the Red Wine Gang's hideout.

The Red Wine Gang's hideout was an abandoned warehouse in the docks district.

Before he even got close, Tylen sensed something was wrong.

Though it was a bright, sunny morning, an icy chill hung around the warehouse.

It wasn't a drop in temperature. It was a sinister cold that seemed to seep straight into his bones.

"Ahhh—!"

A piercing scream came from inside the warehouse, shattering the silence.

Then came a cacophony of pleas for mercy and heavy impacts.

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me! Please, I was wrong! I really was!"

"Help! The old bastard's gone crazy!"

Tylen pulled on the reins, his brow furrowing.

Gray-black wisps of mist drifted through the gap in the warehouse's open doors.

"An icy wind... resentment..."

A word flashed through Tylen's mind: corpse mutation.

Three thousand years had passed since the Third Era, when the Ancient Magic Court fell.

Three thousand years had passed since the magical tides receded, and three thousand years since the Source Fire went out.

Before that, the Source Fire had burned, bathing the land in light. The undead and demons had been nothing but legends.

It was a true golden age. Bathed in the Source Fire, people had mastered supernatural powers and could freely command vast quantities of Mana.

But when the Source Fire went out and the magical tides receded, darkness from the Abyss began to devour the land.

From then on, the bodies of the dead began to undergo all kinds of terrifying mutations. Souls could become evil spirits, and corpses could become zombies.

Demons gradually tore through the laws of the material world, moving through the veins of magic.

Even powerful Lords of the Abyss could corrupt the magical tides and tempt Wizards into falling into darkness.

This was precisely why the Church had monopolized the entire funeral industry.

If ordinary corpses weren't handled properly, they could mutate for any number of reasons.

As the Church's monopoly grew more and more excessive, the entire Wizard Alliance officially lifted the ban on corpses three hundred years ago.

Wizards were allowed to purchase corpses in bulk for their experiments, helping to deal with the ever-growing number of bodies.

It gave the people at the bottom another way to survive.

Among the many mutations corpses could undergo, corpse mutation was fairly common. It usually affected fresh bodies that had been dead for less than twenty-four hours, when the deceased had harbored tremendous anger and resentment in life.

According to the Basic Necrotic Creature Compendium, corpse mutation mainly came in two forms:

In one, the dying person harbored immense anger and obsession. The moment they left their body, they embraced the power of the Abyss and turned into a Vengeful Wraith.

These spirits had no physical form, yet could attack both the mind and body of their targets. They were considered second-level monsters.

In the other, the person's powerful longing and resentment at the instant of death refused to leave the body, turning into a wandering ghost.

Instead, their twisted, dark spirit merged with their flesh, transforming them into a terrifying monster.

These monsters were usually covered in black hair from head to toe, and their bodies became far Sturdier and stronger than those of ordinary humans.

To put it simply, the first kind was a vengeful ghost, and the second was a zombie.

"Old Jack..."

Tylen murmured the name and strode toward the warehouse.

As soon as he entered, the heavy stench of blood hit him.

The scene before him was a living hell.

Dismembered limbs littered the floor, and blood spattered the walls like ink.

Five Red Wine Gang thugs lay in pools of blood. Some had their necks twisted, while others had been disemboweled by their own weapons.

In the center of the warehouse, Old Jack's emaciated corpse clung tightly to Granny Linda.

The two bodies were entwined, as if they were still holding each other close in their final moments.

But Old Jack's corpse showed no sign of movement.

Instead, clumps of gray-black shadow whirled and howled wildly through the air.

"You! You damn bastard!"

A roar interrupted Tylen's inspection.

A bloodied, bald man charged out of the shadows.

It was the same small-time boss who had swaggered at Tylen yesterday.

He was completely deranged now, brandishing a cleaver. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted into a grotesque mask of fear and fury.

"It's all because of you! If you hadn't stuck your nose in, the old bastard would've died already! He wouldn't have turned into this monster!"

"Die!"

The bald man roared and pounced on Tylen like a desperate beast.

Tylen stood still, barely moving.

There was no need.

Whoosh!

A gust of icy wind rose from nowhere, formed a blurry human face, and rushed straight into the bald man's body.

"Ugh... Aah!"

The bald man's charge came to an abrupt halt.

It was as if an invisible hand had grabbed him by the throat. He froze in place.

Then his face darkened visibly, his eyes rolled back, and black veins spread across his eyeballs.

"Guh... guh..."

A horrifying grinding sound came from the bald man's throat.

His body began to convulse violently, his limbs twisting at unnatural angles.

As it happened, his bloodless eyes fixed on Tylen, and his mouth formed hoarse, broken words:

"Ty...len...?"

It wasn't the bald man's voice.

It was Old Jack's.

It was full of pain and confusion, with a sliver of reason still lingering beneath it.

Tylen's heart lurched.

Looking at the bald man's possessed body and those familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, he slowly took off his hood.

"Uncle Jack."

Tylen's voice was low with grief.

"I'm sorry I came too late. I'm sorry you had to suffer."

At those words, the soul inside the bald man seemed to tremble.

The frenzied murderous intent instantly ebbed.

"Ahhh—!"

The next moment, the bald man let out one final, piercing scream.

The shadow burst out of his body, taking all his life force and spiritual essence with it.

The bald man's body crumpled like a pile of mud and fell silent.

The shadow didn't vanish when the man died. Instead, it howled toward Tylen.

An icy wind struck his face, the cold piercing to the bone.

An ordinary person would have been terrified out of their wits.

But Tylen didn't dodge.

He stood there and let the freezing aura envelop him.

As a Wizard apprentice, he knew all about the Vengeful Wraith's nature.

They were born of obsession, attacked only those who had wronged them in life, and, barring anything unexpected, could last no longer than twenty-four hours.

If Old Jack truly hated him, he wouldn't have paused when he called out his name.

"Uncle Jack."

Tylen reached out and gently touched the empty air, as if stroking an old man's shoulder.

"The book your son gave me was a great help."

"Thanks to that book, I learned magic, and I'll have a chance to earn my mentor's recognition in the future."

"You were my benefactor."

The cold wind moaned, circling around his fingertips.

The bone-deep chill gradually softened, as if it were a helpless sigh.

"I know this world is cold, and people can be cruel."

Tylen spoke softly, his gaze steady and warm.

"But I still believe that good people should be rewarded."

"So, Uncle Jack, go in peace."

"Everyone who hurt you is already dead. Leave the rest to me. I have money now."

He took out the money Violet Star had given him for the bodies: two crisp 500-denomination bills.

"I'll give you both a proper funeral. I'll bury you on a sunny hillside, so you can be together forever and no one will ever disturb you again."

"May your souls find eternal rest, until the end of time..."

At Tylen's whisper, the shadow began to shudder violently.

Wooo...

A long, almost relieved wail echoed through the warehouse.

The cold wind gradually faded, turning into faint, flickering lights that melted into the air.

Old Jack's lingering obsession had dissipated.

The warehouse fell silent as the grave.

Tylen stood still, silent for a long while.

Then he turned around and surveyed his surroundings.

Seven people had died here in total.

Five had killed each other, and their bodies were in a terrible state.

The other two...

Tylen walked over to the bald man's corpse, then looked at another body in the corner.

It belonged to a skinny thug. He had died just like the bald man: ashen-faced, with no livor mortis, eyes rolled back, and a rigid body.

These were the classic signs of someone possessed by an evil spirit and drained of all their spiritual essence.

"Heh."

Tylen suddenly chuckled, his laugh laced with both irony and relief.

"The third kind of corpse Senior Violet Star was looking for—the Withered Shell."

"Requirements: someone who was once possessed by an evil spirit and died after having all their spiritual essence drained."

"This one-in-ten-thousand rare material... and I've just been handed two of them here."

Was this what they meant by "good people are rewarded"?

With his final act of revenge, Old Jack had not only helped Tylen clear out the trash, but also given him a generous gift.

"Thank you."

Tylen thanked the empty air once more.

He didn't hurry to leave.

First, he went to the bodies of Old Jack and Granny Linda. Carefully separating them, he placed each in a clean Corpse Bag and carried them to the carriage.

Then he took out two more sealed bags and put the bald man and the skinny thug inside.

He still didn't leave in a hurry, because the Runic Frame had yet to be delivered!

He had to forge a connection today with the person who needed the Runic Frame!