But a Lie Can

Prophecy could not be changed, but if it was a false prophecy, there might still be a chance to alter it. Just like back in the City of Alchemy, when a prophecy had been forged to make everyone believe the sewers held the secret to godhood. It had lured countless adventurers to their deaths, turning them into nourishment for the guildmaster's ascension. In the end, Anbaixiu had unraveled that prophecy and attained the true future. Naturally, a prophecy fabricated by the City of Alchemy did not possess fate's inviolable immutability. Theoretically speaking, if what Harvey saw was a future fabricated by someone else, he might survive. This time, Catherine understood, but she could not help asking, "How do you prove that? What if no one fabricated it at all?" Who would go out of their way to frame a divination mage they didn't even know? Besides, no one could have known when he would divine the future. Anbaixiu interlaced his fingers, resting his chin on them, and said thoughtfully, "The person who fabricates this prophecy can only be me. That is the only way to save him." "I'm confused again," Catherine complained. She used to think she was rather clever—she was a genius who had reached legend twice, after all, and the teachers who taught her magic had all praised her as the brightest student they had ever taught. Yet after meeting Anbaixiu, she discovered this lich's mind worked completely differently from anyone she had ever known. The mana addiction that had baffled the elves was solved by him in mere days; the elven Wheel of Fate magic array had been effortlessly breached and controlled by him, leaving the elders powerless to resist. And now, this lore concerning fate was so esoteric that even though she recognized every single word, strung together they made no sense to her. Yet here this lich was, researching how to alter the fate of a man doomed to die. Could she actually witness history in the making? Would she truly see a predetermined destiny rewritten? Catherine grew excited. Staying cooped up at home truly did nothing to broaden one's horizons; travelling with this lich gentleman was proving to be a wise decision. Anbaixiu, however, felt little excitement. As if confiding a grievance, he said to Catherine, "Do you know what the saddest thing for a divination mage is? Foreseeing your own death, knowing that this future cannot be changed. The agony of waiting to die is excruciating—it would drive the vast majority of people mad. "So, I've always pondered a question: can prophecies truly never be changed? Is fate truly so heartless? I once considered using prophecy to counter prophecy. Especially an ability like Destiny Weaving—could it overwrite an already established prophecy? "I conducted tests. I divined the death of a rat, then attempted to use Destiny Weaving to write a different future. The result was failure; Destiny Weaving failed to take effect. "Observing fate kills its possibilities, collapsing them into a single outcome. That outcome is irrevocably immutable, whether seen by someone else or by yourself. There are never two contradictory prophecies—unless one of them is fake." Catherine listened intently and couldn't help asking again, "Then how do you prove a prophecy is fake?" Anbaixiu smiled. "It's simple. The one who creates the forgery naturally knows whether a prophecy is real or fake. If the prophecy Harvey saw was a false prophecy written by my own hands, wouldn't that prove the prophecy is a fake?" "But didn't you only just hear about this? How could you..." Catherine seemed to realize something, exclaiming in surprise, "You want to travel back to the past, fabricate this false prophecy for him, and complete the logic of fate?" Anbaixiu nodded. "Exactly. That's essentially the principle. It's the only way to save Harvey without violating the rules." Catherine's eyes widened, astonished by Anbaixiu's audacity. Returning to the past was beyond the scope of spells; it required borrowing the power of a god. Still, since he said so, he must have already thought of a way. "If you succeed, won't you completely bypass the backlash of prophecy? Whenever you run into trouble, you could just travel back to the past and alter your own prophecy," Catherine asked excitedly. If one could constantly rewrite destiny like that, what difference was there between them and a god? Anbaixiu gave a bitter smile. "Impossible. The moment I thought of this method, I could no longer be saved by it. "The Goddess of Fate is a deity governed by conviction. The most fundamental law of fate is that once you know it, you cannot alter it. "All the power of destiny wielded by a divination mage can never be used to alter their own destiny. That is the foundational rule of the School of Divination, something that can never be changed. Accepting fate is the very source of fate's power; the moment you harbor the desire to alter destiny, all your powers fail. "If I tried to return to the past to affect my own prophecy, there would only be two outcomes. First, no matter how hard I tried, accidents would occur during the journey back, resulting in failure. Second, upon returning to the past, all my fate power would vanish, leaving me completely unable to fabricate a prophecy for myself. "Once you know, you cannot alter it; once you see, the possibilities of the future collapse into a singular outcome. That is an absolute rule. "That's why I didn't tell Harvey about this method. As long as he remains unaware, his future still holds a chance to change. The moment he hears of it or thinks of it himself, his future will erase that possibility as well. If I tried to return to the past to save him, I would be obstructed by countless unexpected accidents." Catherine listened in profound awe and pressed, "In other words, you can't even tell this method to other divination mages, because any divination mage who hears of it loses the chance to be saved." Anbaixiu nodded. "Yes. Once I conceived of this method, every one of my possible futures was barred from being saved this way. I once considered publishing a paper on it, but ultimately abandoned the thought—at least that leaves a sliver of hope for future generations. If I revealed this method to everyone in advance, it would turn the only solution into an impossibility." Catherine had never imagined Anbaixiu could have such a sentimental side. She couldn't help saying, "Could it be that in the past, another divination mage thought of this method, and the reason it was never passed down was because they thought the same as you? There will always be geniuses who devise such methods to save others, and who just happen to encounter someone they want to save. What a dramatic tale—if composed into an epic poem, it would surely become a classic." Catherine was already imagining all sorts of lamentable tragedies. The School of Divination had such a long history; digging up a bit of lore might yield enough material for numerous timeless masterpieces. Anbaixiu chuckled. "I'm not as sentimental as you think. I simply didn't want to hurt others without gaining anything myself. If they had offered a higher manuscript fee for divination research, I might very well have submitted it. You have no idea—because the School of Divination is so obscure, Legendary Spells offers the lowest rates for papers in that field. The payout isn't even enough to feed a dog." Catherine didn't quite believe him, feeling that this lich was surprisingly modest at times. "So, do you have a sure way to save him now?" Catherine asked. Anbaixiu explained, "Theory is theory, practice is practice. I've never actually tested it, and there are far too many uncertainties. Besides, there's another crucial issue: if I reverse time and space to return to the past, what price will I have to pay? And is that kid Harvey truly worth it?" He wasn't joking. No matter how much he appreciated Harvey's talent, Anbaixiu had to act within his means. Traveling back in time was already in the realm of gods; he had never heard of any legend capable of pulling it off. And securing the aid of a god would undoubtedly come at an immense cost. If the price proved too steep, Anbaixiu truly would give up—and then Harvey could only blame the Goddess of Fate for being so cruel as to offer not the slightest chance. "Returning to the past... I've actually heard of something like that," Catherine said. "During the era of the Demonic Dragon Tyrant, dragons possessed an artifact capable of reversing time and space, which was how they managed to rule the world for so long. Later, the founding emperor of the Ryan Empire found a way to steal this artifact, and only then did he successfully overthrow the demonic dragons' rule." Anbaixiu had heard this legend as well, but he replied, "Isn't that just apocrypha? I've read many books mentioning this artifact. Some claim it could reverse time, some say it granted infinite resurrection, and others say it could instantly kill any true dragon... but they're all forced rationalizations without a shred of evidence." When Anbaixiu transmigrated, Ryan had already been established for ages, and records concerning the dragon era were mostly reduced to rumors. Perhaps only within the upper echelons of the Ryan Empire could one find detailed archives. Catherine said with confidence, "What I'm talking about is definitely not made-up lore. You might not know, but the previous elven king was a friend of Arthur Ryan. They spent their youth together as adventuring companions who braved life and death together. When it comes to information about that founding emperor, our elven race has plenty of authority." "Really?!" Anbaixiu said in surprise. Catherine said smugly, "Of course it's true. Elves have very long lifespans; a long-lived race's historical records are far more accurate than those of short-lived races." Anbaixiu truly hadn't expected to encounter ties to historical figures. Still, elves generally enjoyed long lives; even if the old king exaggerated, he was still someone who had lived from that era to the present day, so his words ought to carry some credibility. "Then does he know where that artifact is?" Anbaixiu asked. "I can ask him for you, but I'm not sure if he can provide any clues. If that doesn't work, what do you plan to do?" Catherine was deeply intrigued by this tale of reversing time to save a life and desperately wanted to see a happy ending, so she looked at Anbaixiu with an expectant gaze. Anbaixiu had no idea why this girl was so thrilled—she wasn't a divination mage, and whether this succeeded or failed had nothing to do with her. Still, met with her expectant gaze, Anbaixiu explained, "If I can't find this artifact, I'll try my luck with the gods. Conveniently enough, I happen to know quite a few." "Gods? Are you going to ask Velsharoon, the God of Liches, for help? But I've heard that particular deity isn't very keen on helping anyone," Catherine asked. Anbaixiu countered, "What kind of stereotype is that? Just because I'm a lich, does that mean I have to believe in the God of Liches?" "Then which god do you plan to approach? If you aren't one of their believers, ordinary gods won't even bother with you. If a lich like you won't turn to the God of Liches, are you going to beg the Lord of the Dawn instead? Don't expect me to petition the elven pantheon for you, either. Right now, I'm a sinner of the elven race; escaping punishment is already the best outcome I could hope for." Catherine wasn't just deflecting; she truly had no way to help. Even though she had once been blessed by the elven pantheon, she had made an egregious mistake this time, and it had been a long time since she last heard the voices of the gods. Anbaixiu replied, "I never planned on having you contact the elven pantheon in the first place. I forgot to mention: the God of Alchemy is my teacher." Catherine froze for a moment, then shrieked, "What did you just say?!"