Ordinary zombies were far weaker than their living forms, just like that balor zombie, which was hacked to pieces by its former comrades in mere moments.
So despite the vast, swarming sea of zombies, their actual combat strength was nothing special; a single Fireball could easily blast away scores of them.
Yet visually, the sight of this massive horde of undead hurling themselves forward without the slightest fear of death was undeniably shocking.
The demons were caught completely off guard, instantly thrown into brutal suppression.
Anbaixiu was never one to let such an opportunity slip by.
All manner of formidable spells rained down from the heavens, battering the fiends until they wailed and shrieked in agony.
Broad swathes of toxic mist materialized over the heads of the dretches, causing thick plumes of white vapor to hiss from the creatures' bodies. Their skin rotted, their flesh liquefied into foul pus, leaving behind only stark white skeletons.
Then, the bones rose from the mire of gore, standing to serve Anbaixiu once more.
The surviving balors had barely registered the relief of seeing their zombified companion hacked to pieces before turning their heads to find even more undead charging at them.
Even balors, consumed by eternal wrath, were struck with bewilderment. The necromancer's magical power was simply too terrifying—it had surpassed the very concept of a legend, hadn't it?
Even for a legendary lich, raising over ten thousand zombies in one breath would thoroughly drain their mana pool.
Yet here were tens of thousands of zombies, accompanied by countless high-tier spells raining from the sky as though they cost nothing.
Could he have marched into battle carrying an entire treasury of magical scrolls?
Wasn't this just an ordinary Hell invasion? Squandering resources so lavishly in a fight—did this necromancer have any plans for living tomorrow?
Anbaixiu, however, did not care in the slightest.
Money was earned to be enjoyed when spent. In the past, he had no choice but to cringe and submit before such demons, completely outmatched. But now, with the Golden Throne and the staggering fortune in gold coins he had schemed and swindled his way into, Anbaixiu's combat strength was that of a genuine legend—and among the very strongest of them.
After acting like a lightweight fraud for so long, this was his chance to hold his head high and vent his frustrations!
Cloud of Death, triple Fireballs, Power Word Kill, Dominate Monster, Chain Lightning, Otiluke's Freezing Sphere... Spellcasting fueled by gold, followed immediately by the Dice of Fate, turning a chance to hit into a guaranteed hit, and a potential saving throw into an absolute failure.
The pitiful balors possessed formidable spell resistance, making spells like Finger of Death notoriously unlikely to succeed against them. Yet so long as there existed a sliver of probability, in Anbaixiu's hands it became an absolute certainty.
One after another, the fiery giants saw their hellfire snuffed out, replaced by burning soul fire, only to turn around and plunge their flaming blades straight into the skulls of their comrades.
When had the demons of Hell ever witnessed such an absurd spectacle? Every balor that fell was one fewer, while the undead only multiplied as the battle raged.
With this terrifying display of spellcasting prowess, Anbaixiu showed everyone what an artillery mage truly was, and why mages were reverently hailed as Lords of Magic.
Even the elves lost the capacity for thought in their sheer shock.
This was no longer just a legend at work; the effect was clearly that of a cabal of legendary mages casting in unison.
Under such devastating magical bombardment, the demon ranks began to crumble. The bottom-feeding dretches broke first. They lacked the immense power of the balors and possessed none of their ceaseless rage; seeing the battle lost, they turned and fled.
Demons had no morals to speak of. Entering the mortal realm, all they wanted was fresh flesh and blood. Since the higher demons were already too overwhelmed to care, if they didn't run now, when would they?
The hellfire gradually died out. The demon horde scattered, and the remaining two balors dived into the magma, fleeing back to Hell.
This was precisely why Hell had never managed to conquer the mortal plane.
Demons were cruel, malevolent, and thoroughly selfish. Despite their immense power, they were incapable of true cooperation. When fighting with the wind at their backs, they functioned well enough, but at the slightest turn of fortune, they might well slaughter one another first—after all, the Lords of Hell harbored deep-seated grudges against each other.
Perhaps this was the balance established by Ao. In this world, one could not demand that demons be both terrifyingly brutal and harmoniously united, ready to sacrifice themselves for the collective whole.
Ryan could boast so many paladins because they were truly pious and practiced the doctrines of the Holy Light; a clique of self-serving old nobles could never forge a kingdom blanketed in holy grace.
In the world of the undead, one could not enslave intelligent beings while simultaneously demanding absolute loyalty alongside the full preservation of their intellect and individuality.
Even the gods could not achieve such contradictions.
Anbaixiu's overwhelming might had also come at an enormous price.
In that single battle just now, he had burned through at least five million gold coins, and even the power of fate was more than half depleted.
Though he had spent a small mountain of coin, Anbaixiu felt thoroughly invigorated. The sheer thrill of blasting enemies into oblivion with endless magic was utterly intoxicating.
The battle concluded beneath Anbaixiu's unreasonable magical barrage. He drifted down slowly from the heights of the sky, landing before Catherine.
The moment his eyes fell upon Catherine's face, even Anbaixiu lost himself for a heartbeat.
Could such a beautiful woman truly exist in this world?
Had he not been a lich devoid of mortal desires, Anbaixiu felt he would have fallen in love with this Elven Queen at first sight.
Her charisma had far transcended mere physical beauty; it had to be the blessing of the gods at work.
Truly worthy of the elven race—the undisputed darlings of the pantheon. Anbaixiu recalled the gaggle of goddesses who had clamored for him to become their chosen, yet offered not a single real benefit, giving him nothing but traps, conditions, and contracts. Why couldn't those goddesses take a leaf from the elven gods' book and bestow enough blessings upfront? Faith would follow naturally. It was truly no wonder evil deities were constantly suppressed.
These thoughts flashed through Anbaixiu's mind in an instant. He spoke to Catherine, "Honored Majesty, I apologize that you had to suffer such an incident. It was an oversight on my part. Rest assured, I will give the elves a proper accounting for this."
"For demons to appear on this land, it seems someone wishes to prevent our peace talks."
Catherine had no intention of pursuing blame. Anbaixiu had arrived with absolute precision; had he been any later, the secret of the elves would have been impossible to conceal.
Catherine studied Anbaixiu. Though she knew this appearance was an illusion he had conjured, she was still slightly taken aback.
It was an aesthetic Catherine had never encountered before. He looked human, yet his features possessed a delicate softness that seemed to rival even an elf's, distinctly different from any human ethnicity on the continent.
It felt like an entirely different style of painting, yet remarkably handsome.
Perhaps it could not compare to the divinely blessed charisma Catherine carried, but like a novel artistic concept, it had a striking, breathtaking quality.
Elves were exceptionally sensitive to the concept of beauty. Drawn in by this unique visage at first glance, Catherine felt even the hostility harbored deep in her heart toward a lich diminish considerably.
Anbaixiu had no idea that his appearance from his past life could produce such an effect. He merely thought this gorgeous Elven Queen was quite pleasant and polite to speak with.
"In that case, do you all require rest? The negotiations can be temporarily postponed."
Having just endured a fierce battle, the elves had suffered no casualties, but many were injured. Anbaixiu noticed several elves who could barely stand upright and had to be supported by their companions.
Catherine nodded. "Thank you for your consideration. We indeed need some time to treat our wounded. Is there a suitable place nearby?"
Anbaixiu casually traced out a Dimension Door and told Catherine, "You may all rest at my castle for now. I will go explain the situation to the desert dwarves."
Catherine expressed her gratitude once more, then led the elves through the spatial portal.
After sending them off, Anbaixiu rushed without pause back to the meeting site and informed the desert dwarves of the demonic ambush on the elven delegation.
Hoffman Ironfist furrowed his brow. "The cultists of Hell are so brazen that they can open a Gate of Hell directly?"
With that, Hoffman Ironfist turned his head and looked toward Heji Stone.
The dwarf vampire gazed awkwardly up at the starry sky. He had genuinely forgotten to warn Anbaixiu about the cults of Hell, but nobody could have anticipated those madmen would go to such extremes. To open a Gate of Hell, they must have begun preparations almost immediately after the City of Alchemy was destroyed.
Seeing his old friend's reaction, Hoffman Ironfist grasped the truth at once and did not make an issue of postponing the negotiations.
"Then let us delay the conference," Hoffman Ironfist said regretfully.
The Ryan Empire had already pushed its front lines right up to the royal palace; time was running short for the desert dwarves, and each passing day introduced new variables. Yet with the elves suffering such an ambush, it was impossible to discuss matters of state with them immediately.
Why had the desert dwarves been plagued by such foul luck lately?
"Thank you for your understanding. I will arrange for your party to stay in a nearby territory..." Anbaixiu was about to offer to send the desert dwarves to Viscount Leitman's territory. Since the lord maintained deep cooperation with the dwarves, it would be an excellent opportunity for them to deepen ties.
Yet Hoffman Ironfist replied, "No need. We will find a place to stay right here."
"Here?"
Anbaixiu glanced around. This was the ruins of the City of Alchemy, covered in dilapidated rubble everywhere. Where could anyone possibly stay?
Hoffman Ironfist pointed at the ground beneath their feet and said to Anbaixiu, "For a conference that concerns the fate of three kingdoms, don't you find this little dirt mound rather too crude?"
A small platform formed by layering a few Earth Wall spells, furnished with ordinary tables and chairs, was indeed somewhat rudimentary.
Anbaixiu could only say helplessly, "I am not particularly skilled in architecture."
"Then leave it to us. I have no wish to see this dirt mound recorded in the history books—that would be a disgrace to us dwarves."
Hoffman Ironfist had no outlet for the gloom suffocating his chest, so he decided to use this site to vent his frustrations.
Paying no heed to anything else, the dwarves threw themselves into massive construction upon the mound.
Anbaixiu watched for a few moments. This group of dwarves was indeed remarkably gifted in architecture. As various spells were unleashed, the surrounding terrain was completely transformed in no time.
From the looks of it, they were actually planning to erect a castle atop the ruins.
Anbaixiu didn't mind. If they were willing to build a magnificent fortress, they were welcome to indulge themselves.
Having settled the envoys of both sides, Anbaixiu returned to the former battlefield.
While the lingering aura of the Gate of Hell had yet to dissipate, Anbaixiu intended to hunt down the mastermind behind the curtains.
How dare they disrupt his business?! This grudge was irreconcilable!
Chapter 122