Out of Excuses

News of Anbaixiu's appearance had already reached Sandshadow City. Just as Anbaixiu had anticipated, Alan was immediately thrust into the eye of the storm. The paladin captured by Anbaixiu hailed from a prominent noble house in the imperial capital, possessing considerable status, and was celebrated as a "hero" of this desert campaign. Anbaixiu had taken him captive and singled Alan out by name to ransom him, heaping all the pressure onto the young paladin's shoulders. Alan's very first reaction, however, was to immediately reinforce the city's defenses. Not only did he halt garrison rotations, but he also dispatched a message to the imperial capital requesting reinforcements. Such a move could be considered prudent, but from another angle, it could just as easily be seen as fear. Rumors had already circulated about Alan for a long time, claiming that after being taken prisoner by the lich and subjected to brutal torture, he had completely lost the courage to take the field again, and that his posting here was merely to find a reasonably respectable end to his tragic life. Consequently, the moment Alan heard news of the lich, he immediately turtle-shelled into a defensive posture and demanded reinforcements from the imperial capital. Such behavior was all too easily branded as cowardice. Alan was helpless against these rumors; he could not even refute them. Deep down, he genuinely harbored fear toward Anbaixiu. Yet Alan was not afraid of death; he was merely terrified of falling into his trap once again. Back then, everything had started with those five thousand gold coins, only to snowball until even the Knights of Condemnation suffered disastrous losses at the lich's hands—and, even more absurdly, an artifact had been lost. Had he known the losses would be so staggering, Alan would rather never have touched those five thousand gold coins in the first place. This lich was not just terrifyingly powerful; once he fixed his sights on you, you were like an insect caught in a spiderweb—the harder you struggled, the less chance you had of escaping. A total defensive lockdown followed by a request for imperial aid—all of Alan's measures were meant to keep him from stepping into Anbaixiu's trap a second time. Although many voiced their objections, Alan ignored them completely, silencing everyone with just two arguments. First, he was the commanding officer of Sandshadow City. This was a military commission Alan had accepted before witnesses; if anyone refused to comply now, it would be a violation of military orders—a severe crime in Ryan. Second, the lich Anbaixiu was a legend, and Sandshadow City possessed no powerhouse capable of contending with a legend. When someone argued that with over a hundred paladins in the city, proper preparations might give them a fighting chance against a legend, Alan simply brought up the crushing defeat of the Knights of Condemnation to shut everyone up. An elite order forged with the Empire's full might specifically to combat legends had met with failure. What right did these paladins—who had never even laid eyes on a legendary undead—have to take such a gamble? Though some still felt Alan was clinging to life out of cowardice and unwilling to trade himself for the captured paladin, his two arguments firmly stopped their mouths, leaving them with no ground to refute him. After all, the Ryan Empire's standing rule was never to make compromises with the enemy. When Alan had been captured back then, hadn't the Empire also refused to pay a single gold coin, choosing instead to dispatch the Knights of Condemnation to eliminate Anbaixiu? When it came to exchanging hostages, as long as Alan did not consent, no one could force his hand. The gates of Sandshadow City remained tightly barred as the city entered a state of martial law. The Holy Light magic formations within the city began operating at full capacity, preparing to repel an undead siege. With his nerves stretched taut from dawn till dusk, Alan stood on the city wall, never once lowering the spyglass in his hand. After the sun sank below the horizon, darkness enveloped the desert. Alan peered as far as his eyes could see, hoping to spot the undead forces in advance, yet after waiting past midnight, there was still no sign of movement from the enemy. "What on earth is that lich plotting? The Empire clearly let bygones be bygones with him, so why would he suddenly come looking for trouble with me? And his methods don't make sense either. If his true goal were to deal with me, there would be no need to touch anyone else. Luring me out of the city without my knowledge would have been far easier... What is this lich really after?" Having gone through so much, the touch of arrogance inherent to Alan's noble birth had completely vanished; he had learned to analyze his adversaries with his own intellect. Anbaixiu had never struck Alan as reckless or crude. For him to act this way, there had to be some reason Alan did not yet understand. "Demanding that I exchange myself for the hostage is very likely just a smokescreen. His true objective must lie elsewhere. Just what could it be?!" Just as Alan prepared to ponder the matter seriously, a holy radiance suddenly flared outside the city. "Holy Light!" Alan could not be mistaken; this was unmistakably the power of Holy Light, pulsing at a specific frequency to signal Sandshadow City. "Is that... telling us to open the gates?" Alan quickly raised his spyglass and focused intently on the source of the light. Sure enough, they were their own people, and more than one. The captured paladin was running toward Sandshadow City leading a dozen or so Ryan soldiers, and behind the squad loomed a massive black silhouette. Alan strained his eyes to make it out: the silhouette was a gigantic black panther, and astride it sat a golden-haired maiden of striking elegance. Alan could swear to the Holy Light that he had never seen such a beautiful maiden in his life; even just a hazy view of her back made his heart race. The party advanced with great speed, arriving beneath the city walls before Alan could recover his senses. "Alan Watson! Open the gate!" The roar from beneath the walls snapped Alan back to reality. He promptly ordered the gate opened to let these Ryan survivors return to the safety of the city. Yet after opening the gate, Alan suddenly caught himself. How could he have been so reckless? What if this was another of the lich's schemes? Why hadn't he investigated first, letting people inside without any verification at all? Filled with self-reproach, Alan immediately led his men down from the battlements, colliding head-on with the returning warriors. Alan looked toward the paladin who had escaped death and hurriedly asked, "Simon, how did you get back? Are you injured? Do you need medical attention?" The paladin named Simon replied coldly, "Now you care whether I live or die? Alan Watson, you should have just treated me as dead." Alan frowned. "I don't know what you went through at that lich's hands, but I imagine you must be exhausted. Rest well, and we'll talk once you've recovered." Alan did not wish to bicker with Simon here. Undead were lurking outside like hungry wolves; if word of an internal quarrel spread, morale in Sandshadow City would become even more unstable. Yet Simon showed no intention of holding his tongue, continuing loudly, "Alan Watson, I didn't come back to take your orders. I brought back vital intelligence! We dealt that lich a heavy blow, and now is the perfect opportunity to strike!" "What did you say? What happened?" Alan asked in agitation. Simon wasted no more time squabbling. He stepped aside, allowing Catherine to appear before Alan's eyes. Simon said excitedly, "It was all thanks to Her Majesty Catherine's aid! She rescued us from the lich's grasp, and she was the one who grievously wounded him. Right now is our best chance—we can finish that lich off once and for all!" Alan looked at Catherine, only then realizing that the young woman was an elf. Her body seemed to glow with a faint, soft light. With flawless pale skin and exquisite features that could move the gods themselves, she appeared utterly perfect from every angle. Alan almost had the illusion that the goddess of beauty herself must look like this. Catherine offered Alan a polite smile and said, "Please don't mind this, but I think it will make communicating easier." A shimmering haze of light and shadow appeared, wrapping Catherine in what looked like a veil of watery mist, rendering her form indistinct and elusive. This was the Blur spell. Normally used only to increase one's chance of dodging attacks, Catherine had cast it simply to veil her appearance and diminish her allure to others. Alan finally managed to collect himself and hurriedly apologized, "My sincerest apologies. My conduct just now was far too improper. Lady Elf, Simon just said... May I ask, are you truly Her Majesty Queen Catherine of the elves?" "I have already proved my identity once, so whether I am or not hardly matters. I have been tracking this lich for a long time. Today, I happened to witness him capture Paladin Simon, so I found an opportunity to coordinate from inside and out to grievously wound the lich. However, I have also suffered considerable injuries myself. "Mr. Watson, I now ask for your assistance to destroy this lich together. Would you be willing to lend a helping hand?" Catherine's voice trembled slightly, but to Alan's ears, it sounded like a tremor born of enduring severe pain from her wounds. A wave of sympathy surged uncontrollably in Alan's heart; he wanted nothing more than to offer this queen all the help he could give. But just before he could voice his agreement, Alan Watson suddenly recalled something and asked, "Wait, Your Majesty Catherine. As far as I know, the elves signed a peace treaty through the mediation of that very lich. Why would you turn around and hunt him down?" "Indeed, an armistice was signed, though I cannot go into the details. If you are reluctant to believe me, Mr. Watson, I can swear an oath to the gods. The elves paid a tremendous price for that peace, and all of it was because of this lich. The reason I pursued him all this way is precisely because of that bitter price." After Catherine made her oath, layers of pure, clear light shimmered across her form, and the faint sound of hymnal chanting could be heard echoing in the air. Alan was all too familiar with such phenomena. This was a distinctive manifestation of a God-favored receiving divine recognition and resonance. His father, the Supreme Arbiter of the Ryan Empire, was himself a God-favored; whenever he prayed, a very similar effect would occur. That the Elven Queen was God-favored by the elven pantheon was entirely reasonable, and evoking divine resonance during an oath proved beyond doubt that her vow was true. Yet why was there still a prickle of unease in his heart? No matter how hard he wracked his brain, Alan could not pinpoint the source of this unease, but it prompted him to find a second reason to decline. "He is a lich. Even if we destroy his physical form, he will simply regenerate from his phylactery. Perhaps we should..." Alan's reasoning was sound: the prerequisite to killing a lich was finding its phylactery; otherwise, it was utterly futile. Yet no sooner had he uttered these words than Catherine produced a silver-white box suffused with a dark aura. "This is his phylactery. I stole it while he wasn't paying attention. Right now is our best opportunity!" Alan stared at the exquisite box in Catherine's hands. That dark aura could hardly be faked. Now, it seemed he truly had run out of excuses to hold back.