Sorcerer’s Handbook

Chip processor, is a corpse?

At that moment, Harvey abruptly stripped off his prison garb. The blood crust from lashings had glued the fabric to his skin, and as he peeled it off, a crisp ‘sizzling’ sound filled the air. The freshly clotted wounds were torn open again, blood flowing from gashes as wide as knuckles, trickling down his dark back, appearing as if countless eyes were weeping.

“Actually, I’m quite surprised you guys know about the processor,” Harvey said as he wiped his body with a towel. “That’s not something covered in the curriculum at the Nursery. Most people in prison don’t even know what’s controlling their chip, just like ants can’t see the people above them.”

“What imprisons us is not the prison, but the chip. Shattered Lake is merely a room within the Blood Moon Kingdom.”

Leaning against the wall with arms crossed, Igor boasted, “I consider myself well-informed, often mingling in high society. I’ve even made contingency plans for being locked up in Shattered Lake Prison, which is why I deliberately sought out its operational mechanisms and luckily came to know of the processor’s existence… But how would a Scavenger like you have access to such secret information?”

With three parts arrogance and seven parts skepticism, Igor carefully measured his tone, subtly invoking the ‘resonance’ spirit to try and ignite Harvey’s emotions. If Harvey truly knew something secretive, he would be eager to boast and reveal his sources.

However, Harvey simply glanced at Igor’s reflection in the mirror and calmly asked, “You’ve all been to hospitals, right? Have you noticed that within the Blood Moon Kingdom, there are no Private Hospitals, only Research Institute Affiliated Hospitals and maternity hospitals?”

“Isn’t that normal?” Igor felt perplexed. “Even if there were private hospitals, I wouldn’t go to them. Affiliated Hospitals have low fees, good reputations, guarantees, and a multitude of Medics. Private hospitals have no space to thrive.”

“Generally speaking, Medics can belong to any species—Human Race, Snake Species, Elven Race, Orcs, and even Ogres…” Harvey continued, “But there’s one department in hospitals where only one specific race is allowed. No other race is permitted to join that department.”

Langna glanced at the bloodstains on Harvey’s back. “Since it’s related to the Research Institute, the race you’re talking about must be the sacred bloodline… But which department are you referring to?”

“The Department of Corpse Management.”

Harvey scrubbed his wounds vigorously with a towel, his face contorting in pain, but he spoke calmly, “If I told you that the Research Institutes were established to keep a tight grip on the Department of Corpse Management, to the extent of prohibiting private medical licenses, would you believe that?”

Ashe, of course, listened with a bewildered expression—opening an entire hospital for one department? Buying a crab just to have some vinegar?

However, Igor seemed to pass an insight check and asked, “I remember your most serious charge was ‘unauthorized handling of corpses,’ and the sacred bloodline’s Research Institutes want to keep a tight hold on the source of corpses… Could it be that corpses are an extremely valuable resource to the sacred bloodline?”

“Corpses are not merely a resource; they are also their Taboo.” Harvey smiled faintly. “You were surprised earlier at the notion of a Chip processor being a corpse, but what if I told you that all of the sacred bloodline are corpses?”

Ashe recalled the arrogant White-haired Hunter, Gerard, and couldn’t associate him with a corpse. Despite being a poor card player, he clearly was a quick thinker, just a tad slower than Ashe.

“Corpses… Yes, corpses, that makes sense now!”

Igor had an epiphany: “I’ve often wondered why the sacred bloodline has such prolonged lifespans and remains ageless, when even long-lived races like Elves age. I used to think it was some kind of Miracle effect, but if they are Corpses, then their appearance would naturally be fixed at the moment of their death!”

“Speaking of which, I’ve encountered the Blood Saint before and indeed, I never heard a heartbeat,” Ronald mused, resting his chin on his hand. “Langna, you’re from the Moonshadow Race, you must know more, right?”

As he turned his head, he found Langna with a strange, or rather, expressionless face. He was silent, his gaze fixed straight ahead, like a wax statue caught in stillness.

“If he’s of the Moonshadow Race, he cannot respond to this kind of topic,” Harvey explained. “The Blood Saint and Moonshadow Races made an oath during their transformation to maintain each other’s secrets.”

Ashe asked, “Does this mean that the Processor controlling all the Death row inmate Chips is a member of the sacred bloodline!?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions; we haven’t gotten there yet,” Harvey replied. “The sacred bloodline has always concealed the secret of being Corpses while controlling all sources of corpses to prevent people from learning the ways of the Necromancy Faction—Necromancy is the only Magical Faction currently capable of controlling Corpses!”

“In other words, Necromancers are the natural enemies of the sacred bloodline. Although I can’t manipulate the Blood Saint as easily as I can control a Corpse, if I were to face an equal-level Blood Saint Sorcerer, unless they are also adept in Necromancy, I’m confident I could render their spirit ineffective, leaving their Soul to flounder in confusion and dizziness until it fades away, turning into a true Corpse!”

Igor raised an eyebrow, reserving judgment on Harvey’s claims.

Every Sorcerer from each faction believes their own to be the most powerful. Just as Igor was convinced that the Mind Faction was the strongest, Harvey’s boast about the Necromancy Faction likely contained some exaggeration.

The sentiment ‘our Faction is so powerful that it’s been suppressed’ is a tale almost every unpopular Faction circulates.

Langna shared a similar stance. As an exiled member of the Moonshadow Race, he surely knew more but was bound by an oath to reveal nothing.

Ronald and Ashe, on the other hand, both had a look of ‘you’re so awesome, I’m with you.’ Ashe clenched his fist excitedly and said, “Great, so if Hunter Captain Gerard catches up to us during the prison escape, we’ll leave him to you, Harvey!”

Harvey’s face stiffened for a moment, “While we may be natural enemies, it’s not as though one can take on Tri-wings with just One Wing…”

Well played… Igor glanced at Ashe, thinking that this man, a Con Artist, had skillfully managed to downplay Harvey’s standing with just a few words. Beneath the facade of admiration was a trap of cunning words, the talent of a Cult Leader, perhaps?

Harvey quickly changed the subject: “However, although I can’t compete with a true Tri-wings Sanctuary sacred bloodline, it would be a different story if they were in a special state of slumber, such as… a Blood Saint Crippled Body being used as a Chip Processor!”

What Harvey went on to describe reminded Ashe of a term: biotechnology!

Due to the Sorcerer system, this world’s Sorcerer technology was highly advanced, with things like neck chips being a byproduct of Sorcerer tech. Chips were mostly personal devices for sending and receiving messages, watching videos, listening to music, or even being used as locators without any issue. But to control someone’s behavior through a chip would undoubtedly exceed the chip’s functional limits.

Those needs that ‘functional limits’ couldn’t satisfy were naturally filled by ‘Miracles.’ But only Sorcerers could Cast Miracles, and only Sorcerers were needed.

Even if that Sorcerer was dead, under certain conditions, they could still Cast Miracles.

The so-called Chip Processor is actually a Corpse of a Blood Saint Sorcerer whose soul has returned to the Virtual Realm. Using Necromancy Faction, Alchemy Faction, and Electromagnetism Faction Miracles, these corpses are recycled and eventually turned into terminal Processors that can automatically receive and send chip signals!

This is not only environmentally friendly and energy-saving but also imaginative. It’s a technological Breakthrough that pushed the boundaries, bringing technology that might have been invented centuries later into the hands of Prison death row inmates to enjoy early.

Ashe had a question, though: “If you only need Sorcerer corpses, why must they be from the sacred bloodline?”

“Here’s my speculation,” Harvey said. “Although the existing Blood Saint corpses have not returned their souls to the Virtual Realm and their bodies have been preserved, it’s easy to conclude that their souls remain within their bodies—likely in the blood.”

“Even if most of the soul has dissipated from the body, there’s probably still a fragment of Soul Energy lingering in the blood and flesh.”

Igor caught on immediately: “Resurrection?”

Harvey nodded: “For the Blood Saint, a corpse doesn’t signify complete demise. Becoming a Processor might be an important step in the Ritual of resurrection, and not all Blood Saint Sorcerers are turned into ‘Processors.’ This might even be a privilege reserved for High-rank Sorcerers.”

“By the way, I’ve conducted specific tests. When I activate the Holographic Screen to watch videos or play Curtain games and other complex operations, there’s a noticeable depletion of Soul Energy, although it quickly recovers, so much so that even Sorcerers would hardly notice it. As to why this bit of Soul Energy is consumed, it could be interpreted as the energy to run the chip, but it could also be seen as… the nutrition needed by the Corpse.”

Ashe felt uncomfortable all over just listening, instinctively scratching the back of his neck. It was as if everyone had a tube at the back of their necks connected to a withered and aged Corpse, which absorbed the nutrients of the living every second.

“Yuck! That is… ugh!” Ronald shuddered and suddenly rushed to a stall, throwing up into the toilet—he was actually nauseated to the point of vomiting!

Harvey put down the towel, turned around to lean against the sink, and looked at them: “So, are you willing to accept me into your group?”

Even Igor couldn’t find fault: “Archibald, welcome aboard.”

“Hold on, I need some proof first,” Harvey said. “You must have a way to remove the Chip, right? If the Chip can’t be removed, the idea of escape from prison is just a bad joke.”

Igor nodded: “We do.”

“Good, at least there’s a chance for success. But before I join you, you must first Sign a Contract with me, agreeing to a demand—”

“Necromancer,” Igor interrupted with a chilling voice. “I’ll admit you brought some interesting information, but that’s all it is—interesting. So far, I don’t see what contribution you could make to our escape.”

While Langna patted Ronald on the back to ease his vomiting, he said, “You claim you can control the Corpses used as Chip Processors, which means you could change our Chip permissions directly?”

Harvey shook his head: “No, to modify Prisoner permissions, we need the ‘Catalog of Sinners.’ Unless our marks are erased from the Catalog, there’s no way to lessen the Restrictions of the Chip.”

“Then what use are you?” Igor’s expression grew more hostile.

“While I can’t reduce our Restrictions, I can add Restrictions to others. It’s difficult to unlock shackles, but quite simple to add them to someone else.”

Harvey drew a line across his neck with his hand: “The Prison Guards’ Chips are also under the purview of the Processor.”

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