Having spoken those words, Anbaixiu tugged at the hem of Catherine's clothes, signaling that she could step back inside.
Catherine hurriedly turned and walked back into the castle. Although she felt Anbaixiu's words had bruised Brandir's pride too severely, she also understood that handling it this way was a hundred times more effective than her previous rejections. Sure enough, no matter what problem was handed to this lich, he could always resolve it.
Anbaixiu's words left Brandir frozen in place. It was the first time the goddess of his heart had spoken to him in such a resolute tone. Previously, even when turning him down, she had been gentle and offered comforting words, worried he might feel hurt.
It was precisely that gentleness that had led Brandir to believe he still stood a chance.
Only now, when the chasm between their statuses was stripped bare and thrust before him, did he realize: in her eyes, had his pursuit been an insult all along?
Yet... there seemed nothing wrong with that assessment.
Back in the era of the Demonic Dragon Tyrant, the elven race had already stood above all other races, and over a thousand years ago, the Silvermoon High Court had been a paradise yearned for by everyone.
The druids had only settled here after the Demonic Dragon Tyrant was slain. In terms of national heritage, the Emerald Dream Forest lagged far behind the Silvermoon High Court, to say nothing of the gulf between humans and elves.
Brandir truly felt the reality that he was reaching far above his station.
All his talk of giving up everything and dedicating his all was like a child offering wild fruit in exchange for an adult's gold—to himself, it seemed like risking everything, but to anyone else, it looked entirely like exploiting youthful ignorance to take unfair advantage.
Brandir slumped motionless on the ground like a salted fish drained of all purpose.
His father stood nearby, silently looking at his son. He had originally wanted to slap Brandir across the face, but now he found himself unable to bear it. Catherine's words sounded utterly merciless, but such bluntness was for the best; it should finally make Brandir give up hope once and for all.
The old father patted Brandir on the shoulder and said, "Come back with me. Her Majesty Catherine has made herself perfectly clear. If you persist in pestering her, it becomes harassment, and under our doctrine, that requires punishment."
If he kept clinging to this, the Elven Queen would truly become furious, and the cooperation and ties between the two realms could not be wrecked by his son.
Brandir seemed to have lost his very soul, offering no resistance as his father led him away. Once more, silence settled outside the castle.
Inside the castle, Catherine watched the father and son depart with excited curiosity, then let out a long breath of relief.
Catherine said to Anbaixiu excitedly, "Impressive! Just a few words from you, and he gave up completely."
Anbaixiu replied disdainfully, "Some people just can't be humored. Still, it only worked because Brandir isn't bad at heart, so humiliating him actually struck a nerve. If it had been one of those shameless scoundrels dead set on leeching off someone, this tactic wouldn't have done a thing."
Brandir had broken down because he still had his pride and genuinely loved Catherine; thus, once convinced that he was causing her pain and insult, his heart turned to ash. But an infatuated simp with principles like him was a rare breed. Most of the world was filled with opportunists who used any means necessary—never mind saving face, they would gladly toss their consciences out the window.
Curious, Catherine asked, "Then how would you handle someone like that?"
Anbaixiu replied without hesitation, "A single Disintegrate spell to turn him into a pile of ashes. Saves the trouble of digging a grave."
Who had time to waste on such scoundrels? Kill them and be done with it—this wasn't a society governed by the rule of law.
Leaving Catherine to recover from her worldview being shaken, Anbaixiu finally turned his attention to serious business. With the Lady of the Mists' assistance, the Dream Barrier of the Emerald Dream Forest had effectively become Anbaixiu's backyard. It was time for Naomi to enter the dream realm and cultivate.
Time flowed faster in the dream realm. Given Naomi's own capabilities, one night ought to be enough for her to work it out.
Following Anbaixiu's instructions, Naomi smoothly entered Nature's Dream. Anbaixiu did not bother with anything else, focusing entirely on watching over Naomi.
As Naomi's contracted master, he could sense her slightest changes. While the chances of the Lady of the Mists trying to swindle him were slim, one could never be too cautious. By staying at Naomi's side, he could respond immediately to any mishap.
Seeing Anbaixiu act this way, Catherine could not help remarking, "You finally look a bit like a companion. Before this, you acted entirely like a slave owner, and poor Naomi looked pitiful."
Anbaixiu retorted, "What are you talking about? When did I ever get to be a slave owner? If something that wonderful happened, I'd wake up laughing in my dreams."
Catherine: "..."
This lich truly did not bother hiding his greed in the slightest.
Catherine was already used to it, however, and quickly shifted the subject to the Lady of the Mists. "Is she truly a fallen deity?" she asked curiously. "Could it be some powerful fiend tricking you?"
Anbaixiu shook his head. "I had my doubts too, but the illusion spell she taught me was unquestionably created by a god. That can't be faked." Leira's True Phantasm—its effects were truly astounding. Any competent spellcaster could understand just how formidable the spell was.
Moreover, the Lady of the Mists could manipulate the druidic dream realm, which was also characteristic of a deity's power.
Catherine asked again, "Even if she is real, why wait all these years only to seek your help? You're quite formidable, sure, but compared to all the druids of the Emerald Dream Forest, you're just one person. Couldn't the Lady of the Mists have cooperated with the druids? Wouldn't that give her a much better chance of success?"
Anbaixiu pondered for a moment before explaining, "It might have to do with the Oak Father. After all, the Lady of the Mists was killed by another god. Aside from the Lord of Spells who preserved a sliver of life for her, she likely harbors trauma toward other deities. I'm an exception; I don't worship any god, which makes me the ideal candidate in her eyes."
Yet Catherine's expression turned worried.
"If it's true, then war really is coming, and our elven people probably won't be able to escape it either."
Catherine disliked war. Regardless of the justification, war's only outcome was massive casualties. Earlier, she had rejoiced that the elves had avoided a conflict, never expecting that the true grand war had not even begun.
Anbaixiu could only offer comfort: "When the gods decide to stir up trouble, mortals can only obediently serve as their pawns. All we can do is make ourselves more valuable so the gods won't casually toss us aside as cannon fodder. By the way, have the elven pantheon offered no warnings at all? I've already received hints from several deities."
Catherine shook her head and said helplessly, "Perhaps it's because my sins haven't been fully expiated yet. It's been a long time since I last heard the voice of the gods."
The elven pantheon was truly petty. The crisis had been resolved perfectly, and yet they were still not satisfied?
Still, since Catherine could not be relied upon on this front, Anbaixiu had to depend on himself.
From the available intelligence, the gods were playing a grand game of chess. What was certain was that some deities would inevitably fall in this great upheaval, and new gods would surely ascend. Yet who the specific participants were and how they were taking part remained completely unknown to Anbaixiu.
Another certainty was that the gods required mortal proxies to seize benefits for them amidst the chaos. The deities who approached Anbaixiu to become their chosen had essentially set their sights on his personal capabilities.
A lich wielding multiple legendary boons was quite a prize in the eyes of the dark pantheon.
Yet that was precisely what gave Anbaixiu the biggest headache, because those deities were each more unreliable than the last, and falling in with them meant inevitably opposing the Lord of the Dawn.
The Lord of the Dawn had a nasty habit: whenever his followers were losing a fight, he would often descend in person, possessing their bodies to do battle. This wasn't just a rare stroke of luck granted to one or two believers; records of such incidents were numerous. That particular god truly had no qualms about bullying the weak.
Of course, divine descents had limitations; typically, the deity could not channel true divine power.
Yet for a deity as formidable as the Lord of the Dawn, even if suppressed to the legendary realm, it would still be more than enough to obliterate Anbaixiu in a single blow.
If in the future he ended up facing the Ryan Empire on the battlefield and finally managed to beat the Silvermoon Knight into scrap, only for the Holy Light to blaze forth as the Lord of the Dawn descended to thrash Anbaixiu, how could he possibly survive that game?
That was why Anbaixiu had always secretly wished for a reliable, mighty deity to back him up—someone like Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, or Oghma, the Lord of Knowledge.
Unfortunately, the Goddess of Magic had never spared Anbaixiu a second glance, and Oghma favored only bards; a tone-deaf lich like Anbaixiu held zero interest for him.
Anbaixiu glanced at Catherine. Although the girl considered herself weighed down by grievous sin and believed the elven gods were still punishing her, the blessings bestowed upon her had never been revoked. He believed the elven pantheon still cared about Catherine deeply; after all, a soul of pure goodness was exceedingly rare, and no god would willingly cast one aside.
Could he leverage his connection with Catherine to cozy up to the elven pantheon instead?
As he contemplated his future plans, the minutes and seconds ticked away. Even when the sun rose, Naomi still had not awakened from the dream. However, Anbaixiu knew she was in fine condition; her dream training seemed to be progressing smoothly, and she simply needed more time.
Just when Anbaixiu thought he could wait peacefully for Naomi to wake, his Necrotic Codex vibrated.
Anbaixiu took it out to look. A message had arrived from the Rose of Decay, who had not responded until now.
[Rose of Decay: Ryan has invaded the Orc Kingdom. They have already breached twelve cities and are on the verge of breaking into the orc capital.]
Anbaixiu jumped in surprise. Had the people of Ryan gone mad? They had only just finished fighting the desert dwarves, and now they had turned around to attack the orcs? Why had there been no whisper of this beforehand? The Orc Kingdom's population might not be vast, but orcs were natural-born warriors whose martial might ranked among the very top of the Nine Kingdoms. How could they collapse so quickly?
Anbaixiu quickly replied: [When did this happen? Not a breath of news leaked out before, so how have they already pushed into the orc capital?]
[Rose of Decay: Ten days ago, I received intelligence that Ryan was mobilizing forces. They redeployed most of their elites from the desert over to the opposite border. Three days ago, the Silvermoon Knight led a paladin legion in a surprise assault. Five legends of the Orc Kingdom have already fallen in battle. No one can stop that old monster!]
Chapter 202