Light warped ever so slightly along this fissure, but the distortion was subtler than a speck of dust; without painstaking observation, it was practically impossible to spot.
"It took seventeen hundred years for this seal to develop even the faintest crack. If fate hadn't guided me to narrow down the search area, I never would have found it. Impressive, Arthur Ryan! Truly worthy of the man legends say slayed the Demonic Dragon."
Anbaixiu tried probing it with mana, but to little avail.
This was merely a crack caused by wear and tear on the seal, not some deliberate puzzle left for posterity to solve.
Back then, Arthur Ryan had never intended for anyone to find it. The seal was a lock forged from the start without a key; no conventional method of unsealing it existed.
Anbaixiu, however, could dismantle it by brute force.
Holy Light and dark mana were like water and fire, utterly incompatible. Corroding this seal with dark mana would inevitably weaken its power, thereby breaking it open.
And that seemed to be the only way.
Anbaixiu was not worried about any self-destruct mechanisms within the seal—forcing it open would not destroy the artifact or banish it into the void.
If Arthur Ryan had been capable of destroying the artifact back then, he would not have bothered sealing it. And if he had been able to cast it into the untraceable chaos of the void from the start, he likewise would not have thought to seal it.
From this, one could deduce that the seal possessed neither of those safeguards. It was simply concealed—exceptionally concealed.
Since what lay inside was safe, Anbaixiu had no time for finesse. A brute-force breach was the way to go.
Dark mana poured through the opening, narrower than a strand of hair, reacting violently with the Holy Light sustaining the seal. Bursts of flame began popping continuously into the air.
As the fissure widened, radiant Holy Light shot forth, nearly piercing straight through Anbaixiu's skull.
Anbaixiu had no choice but to throw up a Shield to ward it off. Yet the moment the Shield absorbed the radiant blast, the Holy Light coalesced as if endowed with life, taking the shape of a humanoid figure.
"A celestial warrior! God of Alchemy above, does it have to be this intense?!"
Coalescing a physical form from Holy Light, summoning a warrior under the command of the Lord of the Dawn to possess it and slay evil foes.
The celestial warrior had barely materialized before swinging its greatsword toward Anbaixiu.
Nothing was more evil than a lich, so the celestial warrior charged at Anbaixiu without a second thought.
Anbaixiu sighed. Fortunately, he had switched back to his mithral body after coming ashore.
Blades extended from both hands, cleanly parrying the warrior's blade of Holy Light before effortlessly slicing it to pieces.
The blades springing from Anbaixiu's forearms carried an anti-magic effect, and Holy Light was ultimately just a specialized form of spell energy. The legacy he had received from Catherine included the method for crafting anti-magic weapons—a power belonging to legendary boons.
This celestial warrior composed entirely of Holy Light should have been the absolute bane of undead, yet it was hard-countered by Anbaixiu's anti-magic blades. In just a few swift strikes, its body was chopped apart, and the structurally compromised Holy Light could only dissipate in bitter defeat.
Looking back now, it was fortunate that the war with the elves hadn't broken out; otherwise, a wizard like Anbaixiu would have been thoroughly neutralized.
Though the celestial warrior was defeated, the seal had not opened; only a fraction of the Holy Light within had been depleted.
Anbaixiu could only marvel at how truly formidable the founding emperor of Ryan had been.
When it came to magic, older did not necessarily mean stronger, unless some cataclysm had severed the chain of transmission. Wizards were constantly boosting their intelligence; through their relentless efforts, newer spells were consistently simpler, more powerful, and less draining.
That a seal from over seventeen hundred years ago possessed such terrifying power was not because the enchantment was exceptionally intricate, but because the caster had been monstrously powerful.
"He was probably already at the demigod level before he slayed the Demonic Dragon, wasn't he? And he was only in his early thirties back then. Comparisons really are odious."
The world was perpetually unfair like that. Some lived for hundreds of years only to end up as mediocre legends; others reached demigod status by their thirties. Some spent half their lives believing they were invincible, only to step outside and have their entire worldview shattered by an upstart youth.
In this world, there was simply no rule stating that the longer one lived, the stronger one became.
After musing over the founding emperor's immense strength, Anbaixiu resumed his efforts, pouring dark mana into the crack. It tangled with the Holy Light in a flurry of sharp pops and crackles.
The hair-thin fissure steadily expanded, and under Anbaixiu's persistent efforts, it soon grew to the thickness of a toothpick.
Sensing hope, Anbaixiu was just about to pour on more power to crack the seal before the Raging Tide Kingdom noticed anything.
Suddenly, however, the Holy Light inside turned tempestuous. Scenting danger, Anbaixiu hastily retreated dozens of meters.
A pristine ring of light erupted like a miniature blazing sun, scorching the surrounding ground for dozens of meters into charred earth.
"What on earth is that?!"
Anbaixiu was thoroughly shocked. This Holy Light differed from what came before; it was unimaginably powerful.
Had he not reacted quickly, that radiant blast would have been enough to severely damage his body.
Before Anbaixiu could figure out what had transpired, a translucent silhouette drifted out of the fissure. It was a rather handsome, middle-aged man who looked to be in his early thirties, with blond hair, blue eyes, and clad in heavy silver-white armor.
This appearance seemed somewhat familiar... Where had he seen it? Anbaixiu searched his memory for a moment and quickly remembered—the Ryan Imperial Capital.
Although he hadn't been able to leave the teleportation circle back then, he had seen the colossal sculptures around it. Beside statues of the Lord of the Dawn, there were numerous reliefs bearing this exact likeness.
"Arthur Ryan?!" Anbaixiu blurted out the awe-inspiring name.
Hearing Anbaixiu's words, the translucent figure displayed a look of confusion.
To Anbaixiu's surprise, Arthur Ryan did not immediately shout for his death. Instead, he asked in bewilderment, "You're a lich, aren't you? I'm quite certain I don't know you. If I had ever met a mechanical lich, I wouldn't have forgotten it. Still, you didn't mistake my identity. I am Arthur Ryan, the continent's most handsome paladin—bar none!"
Anbaixiu: "..."
Was the founding emperor of Ryan truly of this disposition? How shameless.
Arthur Ryan's phantom appeared quite talkative as he addressed Anbaixiu, "So, Mr. or Ms. Lich, could I ask you to relinquish the greed in your heart and let this artifact remain within its seal? You have no idea how critical this artifact is. Once the seal is broken, even undead creatures won't be spared from disaster."
Anbaixiu did not dare make any sudden moves. While the phantom before him was certainly not Arthur Ryan in the flesh, the pressure it exerted was not slight in the least, reminiscent of the presence radiating from the Silvermoon Knight.
This fellow was exceptionally dangerous!
Anbaixiu extended his senses to probe him. A few seconds later, he exclaimed in surprise, "Your Majesty Ryan, this is... your soul?"
Arthur Ryan corrected him quite earnestly, "A heroic spirit! The soul of a paladin is inevitably a heroic spirit; please do not confuse the two. Besides, why do you call me 'Your Majesty'?"
"A heroic spirit..." Anbaixiu was rendered momentarily speechless with shock.
Anbaixiu was an absolute authority on souls; his senses could not be mistaken. The phantom of Arthur Ryan standing before him was a complete soul.
Yet this defied all logic. After slaying the Demonic Dragon Tyrant, Arthur Ryan had lived for another century or more. How could his soul possibly be trapped within this seal?
If he truly was Arthur Ryan, how could he not know that the Demonic Dragon Tyrant was already dead? Why would he claim that unearthing the artifact would bring catastrophe?
It was utter chaos. What on earth had happened seventeen hundred years ago?
If Arthur Ryan had used his own soul to seal the artifact, then who was it that slayed the Demonic Dragon Tyrant? How could the previous Elven King not know about this? If he had known all along, why hadn't he warned him? Did he want to get him killed so the elves' debt would die with him?
Countless thoughts raced through Anbaixiu's mind, but now was not the time to dwell on them. Such a massive disturbance would soon draw the attention of the Raging Tide Kingdom. He had to secure the artifact first and sort out the rest later.
"Your Majesty Ryan... no, Arthur, could we make a deal? Lend me the artifact inside. I swear I'll return it the moment I'm done with it," Anbaixiu negotiated with Arthur Ryan's heroic spirit.
Arthur Ryan replied resolutely, "Out of the question. Please put that thought out of your mind. Once the artifact leaves this barrier, that cruel tyrant will sense its location. No one can outrun a time dragon. If he reclaims this artifact, all will be lost. But rest assured, I will surely forge a new world—one where even the undead will have a place to exist. Please wait patiently; everything will turn out well."
Anbaixiu sorely wanted to curse: *Like hell I believe you!*
The Ryan Empire's persecutions of the undead were beyond counting. Setting undead aside, the dwarf kingdom was on the verge of ruin, and other races had been oppressed by Ryan to the brink of extinction. Who would ever believe the promises of the founding arch-supremacist?
Yet the power of the School of Divination told Anbaixiu that the heroic spirit before him spoke with utter sincerity.
God of Alchemy above, the historical Arthur Ryan wasn't actually a racist?!
Anbaixiu felt that the revelations packed into these few short sentences were wilder than all the unofficial histories he had ever heard combined.
No, that wasn't the main point right now. Anbaixiu said hurriedly, "Arthur, the Demonic Dragon Tyrant is already dead! You accomplished your goal long ago. The dragon race has already been driven across the seas!"
Arthur Ryan registered surprise at Anbaixiu's words. "The tyrant... is already dead? How much time has passed?"
Anbaixiu said with utmost sincerity, "Seventeen hundred years. Seventeen hundred years have already passed. Arthur, you accomplished the magnificent feat of slaying the Demonic Dragon Tyrant. You are the founding emperor of the Ryan Empire, a legend among legends, celebrated in poems sung across the entire continent. That artifact lost its master long ago. Please, lend it to me. I need it to save a human life."
Arthur Ryan seemed dazed by the sudden revelation. He stood stunned for a long while before murmuring, "I... succeeded? The tyrant is really dead?!"
Anbaixiu pressed on quickly, "Yes, it was you who severed the Demonic Dragon's head."
"And people still sing of my deeds?" Arthur Ryan pressed.
Anbaixiu continued, "Of course! You are an enduring protagonist across the continent; operas based on your life have seen countless adaptations."
Arthur Ryan then asked, "Could you recite a couple of stanzas for me to hear?"
"Well... I don't usually read poetry. I remember a few lines along the lines of: *The Holy King dons the dawn, his greatsword slays the vile dragon*... something like that." Anbaixiu cobbled together a few lines at random; he genuinely had no interest in such things normally.
Arthur Ryan burst into laughter. "Your poetry is as dreadful as a goblin's scribbles. You just made that up on the spot, didn't you? It seems you have no talent for being a bard."
Radiant Holy Light blazed from Arthur Ryan's body. He drew an ethereal greatsword from his hip, and Holy Light wrapped around it like roaring flames.
The blinding glare sent the mana through Anbaixiu's body into a roiling boil. An intense premonition warned Anbaixiu that he could not take this strike; meeting it head-on meant certain death.
Gripping his greatsword tightly, Arthur Ryan said to Anbaixiu, "You were sent by the tyrant after all, weren't you? Trying to trick me out of the artifact. Give up. Whether it's seventeen hundred years or eighteen thousand years, so long as I endure for a single day, I will not let anyone take this artifact!"
Anbaixiu sighed, saying helplessly, "Your Majesty Ryan, I honestly always regarded you as an idol. After all, I used to be human once, too."
With those words, Anbaixiu opened his demiplane.
"Captain Aige! Your turn to step up!"
Chapter 182