Anbaixiu was truly swamped right now. The knowledge of the Weave was staggeringly complex, and merely sifting out the portions he required had cost him a great deal of time.
Rough drafts piled up like mountains in the laboratory, all filled with magical notes he had penned.
Over a dozen Mage Hands clutched quill pens to take notes simultaneously, and even Isabel had been dragged in specifically to replenish their ink.
After several days of frantic labor, Anbaixiu finally managed to organize the information he needed.
He deduced that the root cause of mana addiction was pathological changes occurring when the body proved incapable of bearing legendary power.
It was like forcing a child into a full suit of metal armor. It certainly bolstered defensive capabilities tremendously, but every second of the day, the armor exerted crushing weight on the child.
Even if he lay still, the pressure was merely eased, never gone.
In the short run, it seemed fine. All anyone saw was that the armor turned blades and spears; though moving around was a bit tiring, eating more and resting more seemed enough to keep going.
Over time, however, the sustained pressure would inevitably take its toll.
Yet this damage did not manifest as physical wounds to flesh and bone. Instead, it disrupted the elf's internal mana circulation, opening a black hole that could never be filled.
In theory, as long as mana could be replenished regardless of cost, mana addiction would pose no issue. Pouring an entire elven realm's worth of potions into a single individual would surely suffice to replenish their mana, right?
Reality, however, did not work that way. The symptoms of mana addiction worsened relentlessly, and the mana black hole within an elf's body would only expand. In the end, no matter how much you poured in, an equal amount would bleed out. Not a scrap could be retained, nor could it alleviate the agony of being drained dry.
Therefore, to truly cure mana addiction, one had to eradicate the root cause.
The simplest method was naturally to return the borrowed legendary power before the illness became severe; once the physical burden was lifted, the condition would cease to worsen.
Yet the Elven Queen's "Selfless Sharing" could not be revoked, and it could even be passed down through bloodlines.
The second method was equally straightforward: elevate those suffering from mana addiction into true legends, so that the power would no longer be an unbearable strain. But having half the elven population ascend to legendary rank was even less plausible than ordering them all to commit suicide.
Thus, the ultimate answer still lay in resolving the mana black hole.
The secrets of the Weave provided Anbaixiu with a viable approach.
Stripped to its essence, the mana black hole was merely a peculiar manifestation of mana running wild, and the Weave was more than equipped to handle such instability.
Back in the primal days of magic, conjuring a tiny spark could accidentally freeze the caster into a block of ice; the chaos back then had vastly exceeded a simple symptom like mana leakage. As long as he could confer the Weave's mana-stabilizing properties onto the elves, it would provide a flawless resolution to mana addiction.
The theory was sound, but putting it into practice was another matter entirely.
Every magical experiment required materials. The optimal test subjects, naturally, were elves infected with mana addiction. Yet the preliminary experiments were bound to be cruel and bloody, likely demanding hundreds of lives before yielding meaningful data.
This placed Anbaixiu in a tight spot. Counting all his captives, he had fewer than twenty elves. Even if he strapped every last one to the operating table, it would hardly suffice.
If he vivisected them all without securing complete data, it would be nearly impossible to win the trust of the elven race in the upcoming negotiations.
"What a headache... Where am I supposed to find hundreds of elves afflicted with mana addiction to serve as experimental subjects?"
When in doubt, consult the Elegy Poetry Society.
[Tiga Ultraman: Friends, my research has run into a slight problem. I need a large number of elves as experimental materials to acquire the data I want and gain the elves' trust. But before earning their trust, there's no way I can get my hands on hundreds of elves to test on. Does anyone have a solution?]
[Dislikes Humans: Brother, what on earth are you talking about?]
[Tiga Ultraman: You wouldn't understand. Stay out of this.]
[Dislikes Humans: If you explain it, I will! What in the world is the secret of the elves? I swear I won't tell the desert dwarves.]
[Tiga Ultraman: And then you'll just tell the desert's other races so they can pass it along for you.]
[Dislikes Humans: How could I? Am I that kind of person?]
Heji Stone's fingers trembled. To think he had been seen through instantly—this lich was downright absurd.
Anbaixiu replied impatiently: [Stop interrupting. Put it out of your mind; until I've reached an agreement with the elves, I'm not telling you a thing.]
After a brief pause, Rose of Decay chimed into the chat.
[Rose of Decay: Do you just need elves, or do they strictly have to be from the Silvermoon High Court? If any elf works, I have plenty of drow elf slaves over here—as many as you need.]
[Tiga Ultraman: Ordinary elves won't do either. You know what trouble the elves are facing; I need elves who are caught up in that mess.]
Anbaixiu was just about to dismiss drow elves as useless when a second thought struck him: it might not be impossible after all. He typed back to Rose of Decay: [Could you send me a few drow elves? I'd like to run a preliminary test.]
[Rose of Decay: No problem at all. I can have them delivered right away.] Rose of Decay acted swiftly, quickly sending over a dozen drow elves.
Observing the grey-skinned drow elves, Anbaixiu felt genuine appreciation for the lady's generosity; doing business with her was always a breeze.
The drow elves had already been branded with slave sigils, their free will thoroughly stripped away, obeying orders like mindless automatons.
Anbaixiu wasted no ceremony on them, placing them into his personal demiplane to be frozen in stasis.
Next, he sought out Cicero and his cohort of elves, drawing a substantial yet non-lethal quantity of blood from each of them.
If mana addiction could be inherited by bloodline, there was a strong chance it could spread through the bloodstream as well.
Drow elves and high elves had originally belonged to the same stock; it was only when Lolth the Spider Queen betrayed the elven pantheon, leading mutated elves down into the Underdark, that the drow race came into being.
The two branches shared an almost identical physiological structure. The only difference was that under the Spider Queen's influence, the drow had developed treacherous, cruel, and vicious temperaments. Their greatest enemies were the elves on the surface; experimenting on drow elves was unlikely to draw any objections from the Silvermoon High Court.
Of course, the premise remained that mana addiction could be transmitted through blood.
Anbaixiu examined the composition of the drawn blood with utmost care before injecting it into each of the drow elves. Fortunately, elves suffered no issues regarding blood type incompatibilities, meaning arbitrary transfusions carried no risk of adverse reactions.
What followed was a matter of time.
Anbaixiu placed the mindless drow elves inside his personal demiplane, provided them with ample sustenance, and dialed the temporal flow to maximum speed.
One day outside equated to an entire year inside.
A day later, Anbaixiu reopened the personal demiplane to inspect the drow elves.
To his delight, several of the drow exhibited pronounced shifts in strength. They were stronger, faster, and the rations he had prepared were depleted far sooner than expected.
Though nothing seemed amiss on the surface, these altered drow elves had clearly acquired the effects of "Selfless Sharing." In theory, every one of them was now infected with mana addiction.
However, this affliction typically took many years to display noticeable side effects, and these drow elves were only in the initial stages of infection.
Even with the temporal acceleration of his personal demiplane, forcing the symptoms to surface would likely take half a year to a year.
Anbaixiu had no patience for such a wait. Since they were test subjects anyway, there was no harm in resorting to slightly harsher measures.
At last, Anbaixiu revealed a sliver of the cruelty expected of a lich. Summoning the Golden Throne, he cast an Aging spell upon one of the infected drow elves.
The standard effect of an Aging spell was merely to reduce the target to a senile state rather than actually forcing them to live through decades of time.
Yet under the empowerment of the Golden Throne, this Aging spell carried an additional property: it drastically accelerated and amplified any disease latent within the body.
Instantaneously transformed into a withered elder, the drow elf began to let out agonized shrieks. Anbaixiu could sense his vitality rapidly draining away, as though something deep inside him had awakened, ravenously devouring the essence of his life.
"It worked!"
Thrashing about in agony, the drow elf steadily lost his sanity. Roaring like a rabid beast, he lunged uncontrollably toward the neighboring drow.
It was exactly as foreseen in the divination: the culmination of mana addiction drove an elf completely insane.
Imagine an entire race descending into that kind of madness—how many elves would die?
No wonder they preferred to wage a foreign war. Dying on the battlefield as glorious martyrs was infinitely preferable to degenerating into madmen.
Subduing the berserk drow elf, Anbaixiu commenced his first experiment.
To save time, he entered the personal demiplane himself, conducting his research under the effects of accelerated time.
The raving drow elf was completely dismantled by Anbaixiu, examined thoroughly from flesh to marrow, from body to soul. This preliminary investigation validated his hypothesis: the core lesion of mana addiction was indeed the mana black hole. Yet this void possessed a peculiar attribute—it did not merely affect the physical body, but also encroached upon the soul.
Anbaixiu had originally assumed the drow had gone mad from the excruciating pain of having his mana drained dry. Upon closer inspection, he discovered the black hole had not only siphoned away his vitality, but had also eroded pieces of his soul.
Anbaixiu could not help but sigh. "Dual devastation of flesh and spirit... The price of wielding power that does not belong to you is exorbitant indeed."
Small wonder even the gods were unwilling to intervene. The elves had played with fire far too recklessly, blinded by sheer greed. Confronted with boundless power, they had abandoned all reason.
Although his theory was verified, he was still a long way from developing a cure.
Anbaixiu turned his gaze toward the remaining, blank-faced drow elves and said with utmost sincerity, "I thank you for your contributions to academic progress. I promise not to subject you to unnecessary suffering, nor will I waste a single part of you—including your souls."
The next round of experiments began.
Chapter 119