The Secret of Ryan

Anbaixiu had no way of knowing what was unfolding in the Underdark. He was far too busy. The components for the mana refining furnace had just been delivered, wooden crates of every size piling up across half the castle. "It really is a top-grade mana refining furnace. That old fellow Fring didn't pocket a copper of the margin?" After prying open several crates to inspect the shipment, Anbaixiu found that every single component was of prime quality, without a single corner cut or inferior part swapped in. Gustavo Fring's naturally dark skin grew even darker as he watched Anbaixiu opening crates to inspect the merchandise. "Did you think I was an unscrupulous merchant like you?" he fumed. "Heh. And who was it that tricked me away from my castle last time, only to call in paladins to ransack my home?" Fring snorted coldly. He was already accustomed to Anbaixiu dredging up old grievances and could not even be bothered to retort. The lich was obsessed with money anyway; even if Fring won an argument, the undead would not drop his prices by a single gold coin. He might as well conserve his breath. Anbaixiu did not press the matter either, smoothly changing the subject. "Well, Fring, you finally managed to become council president. What's the plan next?" "First, I need to stabilize things with the dwarf king. That bastard Dole Beck played one last move against me, so relations between the council and the kingdom aren't looking great right now." With Isabel's backing, Gustavo Fring really had secured the majority of the younger alchemists' votes, ultimately edging out his old rival by the thinnest of margins. During the final ballot count, Fring had appeared calm on the surface, but his palms had been soaked in sweat. Fortunately, everything went smoothly, and he clinched the presidency in the end. He had intended to offer his old rival the seat of vice president, but Dole Beck flatly refused, going so far as to withdraw from the Alchemists' Council entirely. Fring had initially assumed the man was simply being a sore loser, but he later saw through the scheme. Dole Beck was originally the royal court alchemist to the dwarf king, representing the dwarf kingdom's stance to a certain degree. With his defeat and abrupt departure, the kingdom's influence over the Alchemists' Council had plummeted. Was that not a deliberate ploy to stir up discord between the council and the kingdom? As a result, not long after Fring took office, officials from various departments of the kingdom showed up in droves to conduct investigations. When it wasn't tax audits, it was safety inspections, running Fring ragged and leaving him drenched in sweat. It was blatantly intentional. The council had only just been reestablished and had not even begun promoting alchemy yet. What taxes could there possibly be to audit? What safety hazards were there to inspect? The Dwarf Kingdom was expressing its displeasure with Gustavo Fring. He had to find a way to resolve this dilemma, or the council would be paralyzed at every step. "When it comes to the dwarf king, I could write a recommendation letter on your behalf. It might do some good," Anbaixiu said. "You?" Fring sneered in utter disdain. What standing did this lich have to claim familiarity with the dwarf king? During the peace talks between the two nations, the Dwarf Kingdom's Hand of the King had ended up dead, and Anbaixiu had been a key figure orchestrating the negotiations. It was generous enough that the dwarf king had not come looking for his head. "Heh, I have a great many friends. Just you wait and see; I'm confident there will be results soon." Anbaixiu intended to have Heji Stone speak with the dwarf king. The development of alchemy could not proceed without the kingdom's backing. If the Dwarf Kingdom could be forged into a new City of Alchemy, his teacher's divine power would surely begin to recover. Fring pondered this with half-belief and half-doubt, then suddenly demanded, "You bastard, are you planning to wait until I smooth things over with the dwarf king myself, only to jump out and claim your letter helped so you can swindle me out of my money?" "Are you out of your mind? What kind of persecution complex is that? Am I that sort of person? If you don't believe me, just sit tight and do nothing for the next few days. See if the dwarf king's attitude toward you changes. Only pay me if it actually works." "To hell with that! I never agreed to pay you anything!" Fring was not about to fall into that trap. "Fine, fine, consider it a freebie. Seeing the fine quality of this mana refining furnace, I'll do you a favor on the house this once," Anbaixiu said. "Heh." Fring neither agreed nor objected. Free, was it? Then he would simply feign ignorance and continue doing what he had to do anyway. Though they parted on an unpleasant note, their cooperation remained intact. Anbaixiu handed over production of the Potion of Youth to Gustavo Fring, providing the formula and everything else without fear of betrayal. The potion's primary ingredient was the unique slime constantly welling up from within the castle. With a monopoly on the raw material, handing over the recipe meant nothing; no one else could produce it without him. Fring had access to established alchemical assembly lines and could ramp up production immediately. As long as Isabel supplied fixed batches of raw materials at regular intervals, mass production could begin right away. However, Anbaixiu laid down a strict rule for his distributor: whenever the potion was promoted, the marketing had to deliberately highlight the history of alchemy. It did not need to be an exhaustive lecture—just a mention of the profound impact alchemy had exerted on the world over the years while praising the product. On the surface, it sounded like standard boasting that this potion could change the world. In reality, it was a subtle campaign to continually instill the concept that alchemy could transform reality. From the moment the first vigor potion was brewed, human limits were broken. From the day magical constructs came into being, mechanical structures across the continent were revolutionized. And on the day the mana power reactor was invented, productivity underwent a qualitative leap… Alchemy had long been woven into the fabric of the world; Anbaixiu was merely nudging people to remember that fact. Isabel's potion was only the beginning. Anbaixiu needed more products to break open the market. He might even bind his brand directly to the God of Alchemy. If everyone murmured "Praise the God of Alchemy" whenever they drank a potion, his teacher might just leap straight to greater deity status. One could never underestimate such a simple phrase. Even if muttered out of mere habit rather than heartfelt devotion, it was enough to generate the power of faith. Just imagine how many people across the world used alchemical products. Bit by bit, the gathered power of faith would become vast enough to make every god green with envy. Yet relying on the Potion of Youth alone would not suffice. It looked inexpensive compared to rare elixirs, but at over a thousand gold coins, it was aimed squarely at nobility. It was not meant to fleece the poor. Thus, Anbaixiu still needed to capture the common market. He required an alchemical product that everyone could afford and everyone had a use for. Unable to come up with one on the spot, Anbaixiu decided to take his time and research it later. With the mana refining furnace secured, this leg of the journey was a resounding success. His next task was to return to his dungeon and begin assembling his alchemical manufactory. After bidding farewell to a rather reluctant Isabel, Anbaixiu returned beneath the desert sands. Instead of going straight home, however, he made his way once again to Heji Stone's subterranean stronghold. The sentry at the entrance was still the same dwarf vampire as before. Seeing Anbaixiu approach this time, the creature scrambled on all fours to report his arrival, daring not utter a single word about tasting his blood. Before long, Anbaixiu was escorted into Heji Stone's underground city. While not as vast as Anbaixiu's own domain, it was just as cavernous, and just as carpeted in gold. Heji Stone possessed little in the way of aesthetic refinement, preferring simply to pile gold in every room. When Anbaixiu stepped into the glittering hall, he could barely suppress the urge to summon the Golden Throne and devour it all. Noticing the gleam in Anbaixiu's eye, Heji Stone hastily said, "Old friend, if you need anything, just contact me through the Necrotic Codex. Why do you insist on running over here all the time?" The dwarf vampire had already made up his mind: next time, he would find a room barren of gold to host this lich. Otherwise, he genuinely feared Anbaixiu would snap, run amok, and plunder all his treasures—and Heji Stone doubted he could defeat the lich in a fight. Anbaixiu replied candidly, "The temptation here is far too great, so I had better get down to business. I came to ask for a favor. A friend of mine has fallen under the dwarf king's suspicion…" Anbaixiu explained Gustavo Fring's predicament in detail. Heji Stone, however, wore a conflicted expression. "It's not that I'm trying to shirk this, but my relationship with the dwarf king isn't as close as you might think." "He is your bloodkin!" Anbaixiu pointed out. Anyone bitten by a vampire was bound to obey them. Even without a formal master-servant brand, the dwarf king and Heji Stone had exchanged blood as true kin, bound by a tie thicker than father and son. "Heh. A kinship of the blood certainly exists, but how much familial sentiment can a king truly harbor? Even if I were his flesh-and-blood father, history is rife with sons slaying their fathers for the throne. On matters unrelated to politics, I possess considerable sway over him. But the moment politics are involved, that man is ruthless and cold." His reasoning made sense, so Anbaixiu did not press the point. It was merely a casual favor anyway; Gustavo Fring would undoubtedly seek his own avenues to smooth relations. Working from both ends simply improved the odds. Heji Stone gave an offhand agreement and was just about to ask Anbaixiu for a consultation fee when Anbaixiu spoke up. "Right, about Arthur Ryan—when do you plan to ask your questions?" The moment he heard that, Heji Stone completely forgot about charging any fee. Archaeology was second nature to dwarves. Perhaps having grown up around it, Heji Stone had possessed an immense passion for history from a young age, once aspiring to become a historian. Later, he discovered that dwarves cared far more about the gold inside an ancient tomb than whose bones lay beside it. Forced to face reality, Heji Stone spent his mortal life digging up graves, never finding the time to delve properly into history. Only after turning into a vampire and finally having endless leisure did he pick up his childhood passion once more. Over the centuries, he had become a historian worthy of the title. Arthur Ryan held an extraordinary significance for him. Money ceased to matter; he only cared about uncovering historical truth. "I've practically finished compiling all the relevant materials. How about today? I can head over to your place shortly to see to it. By the way, regarding the question you asked me earlier—about the evolution of racial discrimination in Ryan—I've also gathered a wealth of records. According to my research, that discrimination might truly have had nothing to do with Arthur Ryan." Heji Stone signaled for an entire chest of parchments to be carried over and placed before Anbaixiu. "If my findings are correct," Heji Stone said, "the root of it all lies with Arthur Ryan's son."