Gustavo Fring had no idea what kind of being he was dealing with.
Even though the Rose of Decay was dressed like a noblewoman, years spent steeped in the boundless superiority of the intellectual elite made Fring indifferent to nobility.
Such was the effect of his life experience—a lack of reverence for the nobility naturally brought a lack of understanding, to the point that Fring did not recognize the significance of the garments she wore.
Had he been from Ryan, he would have spun on his heel and fled for his life long ago.
That black rose and skeletal crest was the exclusive symbol of the Undead Queen.
Consequently, by the time an itch flared in his ear, it was already too late.
Fring reached up instinctively to touch it, only to tear away his entire right ear in his grasp.
He stared in disbelief at the ear in his hand, rotten and covered in decay, as if sliced from a corpse dead for days.
Before he could even determine whether he had fallen under an illusion, the rotting ear split open to reveal a maw lined with sharp teeth and clamped down viciously on his fingers.
The searing agony made Fring fling the ear away. Now he could be certain it was no illusion.
Warm blood trickled from the wound where his right ear had been, staining half of his face crimson.
Fring did not panic. Glaring at the Rose of Decay, he demanded, "What did you do?"
The Rose of Decay replied coldly, "Since you can't understand what I say, that ear was useless anyway."
Fring clenched his right fist. The ring on his index finger flared with brilliant light, and his missing ear swiftly regrew.
"I had no intention of stooping to a woman's level, but now that lich can't blame me for laying hands on his woman."
Fring raised his left hand, and another ring lit up.
The Rose of Decay felt her body stiffen as an immense force bore down on her, threatening to force her to grovel on the floor.
*A Command spell?*
Recognizing the enchantment on the ring, she instantly dissolved into a plume of black smoke.
The compelling force of the Command vanished, and the Rose of Decay re-formed on the second-floor gallery, peering down at Fring.
Though Fring's expression remained composed, fury burned through him. He would teach this woman a harsh lesson today.
A glass vial materialized in his hand before anyone could notice, and he hurled it toward the Rose of Decay on the second floor.
Before the vial even shattered, it turned a fiery orange in midair and erupted with a deafening blast.
Scorching flames and glass shards surged toward the Rose of Decay as if locked onto her.
With a flick of her hand, she froze the flames and shrapnel suspended in the air, then turned her gaze toward Fring.
Fring felt numbness creeping over him again, but this time not in his ear—it was in his chest.
Something was wrong. What spell was this? His robes were enchanted to ward off the vast majority of magic.
Not only that, crafting magical equipment was Fring's greatest specialty. He carried over thirty magic items on his person; had this woman cast a spell directly upon him, his Counterspell necklace should have triggered.
In a flurry of flashing lights, Fring activated several items designed to cleanse abnormal conditions. Yet it was futile—the moment the numbness faded, it promptly returned.
If he could not dispel the magical effect, he would just have to kill this bizarre woman first.
Just as Fring prepared to strike, a black-haired young man blinked into existence before him.
Anbaixiu beamed at Fring. "Oh, my dear Fring! Old friend, why are you brawling in my house?"
With such a loud explosion, it would have been stranger if Anbaixiu hadn't heard.
"You arrived just in time," Fring said to Anbaixiu. "A moment later and you'd have had to find yourself a new lover."
Anbaixiu glanced back at the Rose of Decay, then looked at Fring. "Wait. Did you say she's my lover? Do you have any idea who she is?"
Fring replied dismissively, "A necromancer? I don't know much about necromancy, but she acts like the lady of the house bossing everyone around. I assume she's something special to you."
Anbaixiu sighed, leaned in, and whispered a few words into Fring's ear.
Fring's eyes shot wide open, a flash of utter disbelief flickering across his face.
Anbaixiu patted his shoulder. "Relax, I'm here. Let's find somewhere quiet to talk."
Turning back to the Rose of Decay, he said, "Lady Rose, my work is done. The item is waiting in the laboratory."
Anbaixiu led the stiff, frozen Fring out of the hall, winding through the corridors to a secluded corner.
Anbaixiu chuckled. "All right, Fring. You can breathe now."
Fring glared at him. While learning that she was the Undead Queen had given him a genuine fright, he wasn't so terrified that he forgot how to breathe. The damned lich was clearly mocking him.
"Don't glare at me like that. I did just save your life, after all."
"Hmph. I wouldn't necessarily have died."
"Care to go back and try again?"
Fring knew he was no match for this lich in a battle of wits and words, and only a fool would pick a fight with Her Majesty the Queen.
Although the City of Alchemy had little interaction with the Underdark, he knew full well how terrifying the Undead Queen was.
She had survived countless encirclements by Ryan, slaughtered the drow elves of the Underdark to the brink of extinction, and thoroughly subjugated the svirfneblin and duergar into her slaves. Years ago, she had launched a raid against Ryan's imperial capital, laying siege to it with two hundred thousand undead.
According to historical records, the Undead Queen had slain three hundred paladins on the battlefield with nothing more than a glance, turning them into her undead thralls and terrifying the people of Ryan into barricading themselves within the city walls. Despite being the natural bane of the undead, the Ryanites had been besieged for fifteen full days; had the Silvermoon Knight not rushed back in time, the imperial capital might have fallen.
Rumor had it, however, that the Undead Queen suffered catastrophic injuries after that campaign, and word even spread that she had perished entirely upon returning to the Underdark. Yet thirty years later, she returned to her subterranean domain and butchered the drow elves who had seized her realm, reminding every creature in the Underdark that the Queen had returned.
Had Fring known earlier that she was Queen Rose, he would have turned around and walked away on the spot, waiting until the election itself to negotiate with Anbaixiu.
It was too late for regrets now, and Fring had no desire to linger in the same castle as that monstrous queen. He turned to Anbaixiu and said, "Hmph, I don't have time to waste with you. I came here today on business. I know you love money, so let's skip the pointless probing. I want Isabel's support in tomorrow's election. Name your price."
Anbaixiu replied, "Oh? That's all? Simple enough: ten billion gold coins."
"Can you take this seriously?"
Ten billion! If he had ten billion, he could just bribe everyone to vote for him outright.
"I am entirely serious! Guildmaster of the Alchemists' Council! Think about it—how much was the previous guildmaster worth? Ten billion is a bargain," Anbaixiu said solemnly, looking as though he genuinely believed every word.
Suppressing his fury, Fring countered, "Do you think the current Alchemists' Council is the same as the old one?"
"If it's not the same, why do you want to be guildmaster so badly?"
Anbaixiu's question caught Fring off guard.
Anbaixiu continued, "Fring, we've known each other for years. Among all the alchemists in the City of Alchemy, you've always been the most ambitious. The guildmaster was merely a madman pursuing ultimate knowledge, but you prefer power and status."
"What are you getting at?"
Fring sensed there was more beneath the surface—this was definitely not a simple matter of driving up the price.
"I'm saying, why not broaden your ambition a bit? How could a petty Alchemists' Council compare to being the chosen of the God of Alchemy?"
Fring gave Anbaixiu a look of utter contempt.
"Do you even hear what you're saying? The chosen of the God of Alchemy? When has that deity ever spared a glance for us alchemists? Did you burn trash in your soul fire to scramble your thoughts like this?"
The seven god-forged spires over the City of Alchemy symbolized the greatest humiliation endured by every alchemist. That deity had never bestowed an oracle, nor helped a single alchemist complete their research; he intervened only to crush their life's work whenever they approached the zenith.
Against such a deity, not trying to slay him was already mercy—who in their right mind would want to be his chosen?
"I know you hold deep prejudices against the God of Alchemy, and he rarely communicates with any of you. But deities speak in riddles; that's only natural. Alchemists and the God of Alchemy can never be truly separated. Rather than sulking in resentment, isn't it better to cooperate?"
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
Fring realized he truly did not understand Anbaixiu at all. Despite knowing each other for years, this lich always managed to pull out some fresh trick.
"It's simple. You carry on as guildmaster, but I want you to help me revive alchemy. Every nation across the continent relies on alchemical goods; you and I both know that. But if we want alchemy to experience a rapid renaissance, we need to join forces."
Anbaixiu's primary mission was to make alchemy great again. Previously, his plan had been to build his own alchemical manufactory, spread his products across the continent, and slowly nurse the alchemical industry back to health.
However, upon his return, seeing that Isabel had developed a new youth potion and achieved a measure of renown, Anbaixiu's thinking had shifted.
He possessed the technology and the novel recipes; what he lacked were the channels for large-scale production and distribution.
Gustavo Fring was like a gift presented by the Goddess of Fate.
The old man's status, connections, and mastery of alchemy far exceeded Anbaixiu's own. With his cooperation, Anbaixiu's timeline could be shortened by years.
All it took now was his nod.
"You're willing to back me for guildmaster?" Fring asked.
"Of course. The ten billion was just a joke; you wouldn't actually pay me ten billion anyway, would you?" Anbaixiu replied.
Fring hadn't expected to achieve his goal so easily. Had this lich undergone a change of heart?
An instant later, he realized how mistaken he was, as Anbaixiu added:
"Ten billion was a joke, but thirty million gold coins is a very fair price."
Chapter 243