Talos was a mighty, extraordinarily generous deity. As long as one could withstand his madness, one would receive manifold boons.
Viscount Leitman was clearly a devout worshiper of Talos; surging through his veins seemed to be not blood, but raging lightning.
The Twilight Guards were the elven race's elite, yet two of his spells had left two dead and three wounded—a truly formidable feat.
Anbaixiu silently congratulated himself on not launching a frontal assault on this territory. The battlefield was where a storm priest truly unleashed their might; to them, cannon fodder was nothing more than an endless stream of free kills.
The fallen elves on the tower proved quite resilient, swiftly scrambling back to their feet and charging toward Viscount Leitman.
Anbaixiu chose simply to stand aside and watch the show, letting Viscount Leitman vent his long-suppressed fury on the elves.
Viscount Leitman swung his lightning-wreathed iron warhammer, clashing fiercely with the three elves.
As the massive warhammer whistled through the air, every strike carried thunderous, earth-shattering force. The crackling arcs of electricity served as his war chant, singing praises to Talos's greatness. Agile though the three elves were compared to the viscount, and though their shortswords sparked wildly against him, they failed to pierce his chainmail.
Two or three exchanges in, one elf failed to dodge in time. Viscount Leitman's hammer slammed into his body, instantly caving in half his torso, while flashing electric arcs charred the elf black.
By then, guards who had caught wind of the commotion finally arrived, encircling the remaining two elves.
Lightning coiled around Viscount Leitman as he took deliberate strides toward the last two elves. Just as both were about to be crushed beneath his hammer, a dazzling arrow streaked into the tower.
A violent burst of fire exploded, blasting a gaping hole through the tower floor.
Caught off guard, Viscount Leitman nearly tumbled over. By the time the smoke and dust cleared, the two elves had vanished.
The guards all peered down into the hole, but Anbaixiu looked up.
Clinging to the ceiling of the tower, the two elves aimed arm-mounted hand crossbows straight at Viscount Leitman.
"Utter madness... Why did these elves suddenly become so fearless of death?"
The thought flashed through Anbaixiu's soul. Elves were never known for suicidal recklessness; when an assassination failed, their nature was to retreat and try another day. Seeing them act as though they would gladly perish just to drag Viscount Leitman down with them was exceedingly rare.
*Thwip! Thwip!*
The crossbow bolts flew. At such close range, elven marksmanship could easily put them right through Viscount Leitman's eyes.
Anbaixiu had no choice but to intervene. Summoning a Mage Hand, he gave Viscount Leitman's arm a gentle tug.
The two bolts grazed past Viscount Leitman's head and clattered onto the floor. The guards instantly spotted the elves lurking above and raised their bows and crossbows, unleashing a wild volley.
Anbaixiu was no longer paying attention to these two elves; his focus was entirely trained outside the tower.
A formidable elven archer was lurking out there. Both the arrow that struck Viscount Leitman's shoulder earlier and that impeccably timed explosive arrow had almost certainly come from the same person.
With a sniper like that keeping watch, Viscount Leitman was in grave danger.
Yet the storm priest, his blood already boiling, showed not the slightest lingering fear. Instead, an even more violent fury erupted from him as he unleashed wild torrents of lightning at the two elves.
A lunatic was a lunatic; in battle, he possessed practically zero reason.
Anbaixiu could only keep watch outside the tower on Leitman's behalf to see if he could catch that formidable elven archer.
However, the sniper seemed to realize that Anbaixiu was the true lynchpin, so even as the two elves were electrocuted into charred cinders, no further shots were taken.
Deprived of a target, Viscount Leitman seemed unsatisfied. In his blind rage, he accidentally struck several nearby guards with stray lightning, sending their limbs into violent spasms.
When he turned his head toward Anbaixiu, lightning still brewed within his eyes.
Anbaixiu neither spoke nor offered a warning. He merely sat upon his Golden Throne, quietly observing Viscount Leitman.
The Golden Throne hovered midair, allowing Anbaixiu to gaze down from above—an act that bordered on outright insolence. And with Viscount Leitman currently resembling a rabid beast, the guards feared he might turn on Anbaixiu.
This man was an envoy of the dwarf king; if he were harmed...
Yet under Anbaixiu's steady gaze, Viscount Leitman's rage surprisingly subsided, and the lightning flickering across his body quickly faded away.
Anbaixiu smiled and said, "Take care of yourself, Viscount Leitman. Your safety is paramount. Elven retaliation will likely come soon. Before the dwarf king's reinforcements arrive, I suggest that you, Lord Viscount, avoid exposing yourself out in the open."
Viscount Leitman gave Anbaixiu a deep look, a flicker of dread surfacing in his eyes.
Moments ago, channeling the power of lightning had plunged him into a semi-mad state. Bathed in thunderous glare, everyone else appeared as nothing more than tiny black silhouettes that he could shatter with a single bolt.
Yet when he had looked upon Anbaixiu, what he saw was an immense black hole. Even the brilliance of lightning could not escape its gravitational pull. Viscount Leitman felt an eerie certainty that even if he threw every spark of lightning into that abyss, he would never illuminate that darkness.
Viscount Leitman felt fear—a sensation he had not experienced since childhood. It was so visceral and real that it snapped his maddened mind back to sanity.
Regaining his composure, Viscount Leitman spoke in a raspy voice, "Master Ultraman, please contact the dwarf king as soon as possible."
Anbaixiu smiled. "Rest assured, I will bring the reinforcements over for you as swiftly as I can."
Viscount Leitman led his guards swiftly out of the tower. So long as he didn't lose his mind and venture into wide-open spaces, no accidents should befall him.
Anbaixiu did not linger in the territory either. Armed with Viscount Leitman's written order and carrying his first installment of the "retainer fee," he departed quietly.
Anbaixiu hummed a little tune along the way, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Not long after leaving Leitman's domain, however, shouts of battle echoed from the distance.
Out on the flat wasteland, two forces were clashing.
They appeared evenly matched in numbers, but the battle was entirely one-sided.
The army flying infernal thorn banners was tearing open their opponents' formation and devouring them. Literally devouring them. The thorn-banner troops appeared to be under some sort of spell; they were virtually oblivious to pain, paid no heed to their wounds, and bit frantically during combat, swallowing raw flesh and blood. It was precisely this rabid savagery that broke the morale of the opposing rabble, leading to their swift, total defeat.
Anbaixiu studied them closely. Above the heads of these thorn-banner soldiers, a faint serrated glow flickered, encircling their crowns like a circlet. This was likely a modified Crown of Madness spell, capable of dominating humanoids, stripping them of their reason, and driving them to attack designated targets with maniacal fury.
Furthermore, the spell seemed to grant pain immunity and vampiric healing; after tearing into flesh and blood, the wounded thorn soldiers saw their injuries rapidly mend, leaving behind only superficial flesh wounds.
This force numbered nearly a hundred soldiers. Evidently, there was a rather capable spellcaster among the thorn army.
Anbaixiu observed from afar, but a bystander like him caught the attention of this rabid army. Having shredded their original foes, the army's commander set her sights on Anbaixiu.
A wave of the thorn banner, and the mad horde charged toward Anbaixiu, apparently intending to slaughter him "in passing."
Fresh from the slaughter, the crazed soldiers were drenched in blood and shredded meat, cutting an exceptionally terrifying figure. Some even galloped on all fours like beasts.
Anbaixiu looked as though he were paralyzed with fright, standing motionless on the spot.
The female knight commanding the army broke into maniacal laughter, seemingly relishing the thrill of preying on the weak.
She was clad in heavy armor—black-and-red plate etched with sharp thorny patterns, as if wrapped in briers. Instead of a traditional knight's lance, she held a long whip studded with spikes.
Such a bizarre appearance, combined with her wild laughter and brutal troops, was enough to strike terror into anyone.
Anbaixiu still didn't move, as though resigned to his death.
Just as the scarlet thorn army was about to overwhelm him, a figure emerged in the distance and fired an arrow glowing with blue light toward Anbaixiu at blistering speed.
The arrow carried a unique anti-magic effect; no shield could stop it.
The twang of the bowstring was drowned out by the din of the battlefield, and its trajectory came straight from a person's blind spot. By all rights, the shaft should have bored cleanly into Anbaixiu's neck, drained all his magic, and ripped his head from his shoulders with its momentum.
The timing was impeccable, crafted to make this meddling mage believe right up to his demise that his head had been torn off by the monsters before him.
The elven archer had trailed Anbaixiu for quite some distance, waiting for the perfect opportunity to eliminate the dwarf king's envoy once and for all.
At least, that was what the elf believed the moment the arrow left the bow.
Yet the very instant the shaft was released, Anbaixiu's head snapped around a full one hundred and eighty degrees as if broken, locking eyes directly on her.
"Found you!"
Anbaixiu smiled as he pinpointed the elven archer, leaving the dazzling blue arrow to strike nothing but the Golden Throne.
The anti-magic effect was indeed potent—just like that pair of shortswords earlier, Anbaixiu's Shield spell couldn't block it. But when magic failed, a direct physical block did the trick.
Against half a meter of solid gold, the arrow could only carve a faint scratch before being deflected away.
Anbaixiu was growing increasingly fond of this legendary boon. Gold truly was the most reassuring thing in the world.
Brilliant golden radiance flared. Anbaixiu reached out, clutching at the elven archer through the empty air. The archer felt an immense force seize her, dragging her body toward him.
"Telekinesis?! Impossible! We're so far apart!"
Telekinesis was a high-tier transmutation spell, essentially psychokinesis. Normally, its range was a mere ten or so meters, yet Anbaixiu had snared the elven archer from nearly forty meters away.
Legendary power twisted reality and bent the laws of nature.
Pay-to-win casting, supercharged empowerment—the results were just that absurd.
The elven archer couldn't resist such overwhelming might at all. No matter how she struggled, she was dragged right up beside Anbaixiu.
By then, however, the massive thorn army was about to wash over Anbaixiu as well.
The blood-drenched soldiers leading the charge lunged at Anbaixiu, eager to tear into his flesh.
But Anbaixiu merely snapped his fingers with a cold flick of his wrist. A thunderous shockwave erupted before him, blowing the mad soldiers off their feet.
Thunderwave. It was a simple yet practical spell capable of knocking back lighter objects within several meters, usually by two or three meters.
Yet Anbaixiu had once again applied pay-to-win casting. Raging thunder swept forward like a hurricane, blanketing the entire army in front of him before blasting them all skyward like a landmine detonating in an anthill.
The thorn army, which had just swaggered around dominating and slaughtering its foes, folded like wet paper before Anbaixiu.
Aside from the heavily armored female knight, not a single person in the army could stand after taking that Thunderwave.
Anbaixiu didn't even glance at the defeated rabble, turning his gaze with keen interest toward the elven archer held in his grasp.
"You must be the leader of these Twilight Guards. A female elf, no less. There's a Twilight Guard named Cicero—do you know him?"
At Anbaixiu's question, the elven archer's face shifted drastically, and she shouted in agitation, "It's you! You're no envoy of the dwarf king—you're that swindler lich!"
"What 'swindler lich'?! Where did that rumor come from? In business, I always put integrity first and never screw over my partners!" Anbaixiu grumbled, visibly displeased.
Who was spreading slander about him? Calling him evil, vicious, cruel, or ruthless was one thing, but calling him a fraud? That was intolerable.
The female elf snarled, "We investigated everything long ago! First you deceived and then kidnapped paladins of the Ryan Empire! You ambushed the Alchemists' Council! You caused the great catastrophe that destroyed the City of Alchemy! Your crimes are as countless as the demons of Hell—you are the most evil entity in the Nine Kingdoms!
"Kill me! From the elven divine realm, I will bear witness to your destruction!"
Anbaixiu fell silent for several seconds before asking, "Did Gustavo Fring run off to the Silvermoon High Court?"
Chapter 100