The Portfolio of Darkness sounded impressive, but even the Goddess Shar had turned her nose up at it, choosing the Portfolio of Corruption instead.
That showed just how weak this portfolio truly was—the divine equivalent of scraping together minor trimmings from a grand concept and dubbing them "Darkness."
In truth, it was probably nothing more than an unremarkable dab of paint on a vast canvas.
For a mortal, fusing with such a portfolio would indeed let them achieve godhood on the spot. No matter how faint the divine power, it was still a qualitative leap. But if he wanted to sell it to an existing deity, it was simply too embarrassing to present.
Beyond being pitifully weak, its origins were problematic; fusing with it would invite endless trouble. Deities who didn't fear trouble were powerful enough to look down on such a weak portfolio, while weaker deities who actually wanted it couldn't afford to court disaster. Consequently, fetching a good price for the thing would be exceedingly difficult.
When it came to matters of the gods, Anbaixiu could only consult the God of Alchemy.
This deity was remarkably on call. Anbaixiu took out a gold coin and called his name, and the God of Alchemy promptly materialized in high spirits.
The moment he appeared, the God of Alchemy boasted, "How did you know my divine power had recovered—and grown a bit stronger than before?"
Anbaixiu wanted to retort that no one knew a son better than his father, but remembering that he was the one asking for a favor, he held his tongue and merely offered a dry, dismissive chuckle.
"Now that your divine power is restored, does that mean you can give me the blessing you owe me?"
Anbaixiu still remembered that the God of Alchemy had promised him a blessing last time. Yet the God of Alchemy gave an awkward cough. "A minor miscalculation. I thought this recovery would allow me to bestow a unique blessing upon you, but..."
"Are you kidding me?!" Anbaixiu burst out in indignation. He had already let the old man scoop up a divine portfolio, and now the god was welshing on a promised blessing?!
"Calm down! While it isn't a blessing, I believe this item will be far more useful to you."
The God of Alchemy traced a circle with both hands, and a massive full-length mirror materialized before Anbaixiu.
Anbaixiu examined it closely. Packed behind the glass was a dense array of gears and mana power reactors; for the life of him, he couldn't tell what it was meant to do.
"What is this contraption?" Anbaixiu asked.
The God of Alchemy explained, "Back when I was searching for you, I set out to devise an artifact capable of scouring any location at will. But just as I finished it, I ended up finding you."
"That incredible?!" Anbaixiu was stunned. If this mirror could gaze upon any place at will, it would be a supreme artifact—far more potent than any mere blessing.
"Don't get your hopes up. This mirror can only operate at full power when housed within my divine realm. The mortal world cannot provide the vast reservoir of divine power required to sustain it, so you can forget about using it to peek at the Elven Queen in the bath."
"What would even be so interesting about that?" Anbaixiu retorted.
"And snooping into someone else's vault would be more thrilling?"
Unwilling to bicker over such nonsense, Anbaixiu pressed on. "So what use is it right now?"
"I'll provide you with a simplified blueprint that anyone skilled in alchemy can manufacture. Different mirrors can communicate directly with one another. The glass displays the other party's surroundings while allowing voice conversation. Naturally, I also left expansion sockets so you can install miniature teleportation arrays and memory crystals—allowing you to transfer small objects on the spot or record conversations."
"Holy crap, video calls plus online shopping?!" Anbaixiu was taken aback once again.
As a reincarnator, Anbaixiu had often entertained thoughts of using the knowledge from his previous life to reshape the world and reap a fortune in the process. Knowing this world lacked instantaneous long-distance communication, he had once considered building a telegraph system. But he soon discovered that the omnipresent ambient mana prevented radio waves from traveling far. Even if a signal were received, it suffered severe interference, making effective communication impossible.
Laying cables for landline telephones might have been an option, but rubber wasn't mass-produced; Anbaixiu hadn't even found many rubber trees. The golem puppets manufactured in the City of Alchemy used an exorbitant colloidal substance for shock absorption and insulation, which would make the cost of laying insulated wiring astronomical. Furthermore, this feudal society lacked the infrastructure for long-distance power transmission, so Anbaixiu had abandoned that line of research. Yet now, this mirror could achieve long-distance communication—and wirelessly, no less?
"How much does one mirror cost to produce?" Anbaixiu asked.
The God of Alchemy replied, "How would I know mortal commodity prices? I'll give you the blueprints, and you can calculate it yourself."
Anbaixiu rapidly ran through the figures he had accumulated over the years. By his estimate, if the manufacturing cost of a single mirror could be kept under twenty thousand gold coins, with monthly maintenance and operating costs below three hundred gold coins, it would have a viable market. But when he looked over the blueprints, he gasped in shock. "Just this...? Such a simple design? The materials won't even cost two hundred gold coins!" Anbaixiu could hardly believe it. By all earthly logic, this defied reason.
The God of Alchemy explained, "This alchemical device incorporates conceptual laws. It's equivalent to me bestowing a blessing directly upon the apparatus. What's more, I am using my own divine realm as a relay station to keep the system operational, which is why the manufacturing cost is so low. However, if the laws governing alchemy undergo any alterations, the device's functionality could be affected."
Anbaixiu understood now. Divine power—the ultimate universal explanation. He began to calculate the profound impact this invention would have on the world, quickly dreaming up dozens of ways to market and deploy it.
Only then did Anbaixiu remember his original purpose. He couldn't help saying, "You sidetracked me. I came to ask you who I should sell the Portfolio of Darkness to. Do you have any generous friends among the gods?"
The God of Alchemy chuckled. "I have plenty of friends, but not a single one I'd let you fleece. Surely you don't expect the Lord of Knowledge to buy this portfolio from you?"
Only then did Anbaixiu recall that the God of Alchemy shared good relations with the Lord of Knowledge. Back when the alchemists committed blasphemy against the gods, the Lord of Knowledge could easily have crushed every last one of them with a wave of his hand. It was only out of respect for the God of Alchemy that he granted alchemy a sliver of survival. But expecting him to purchase this portfolio was out of the question. As a greater deity, he wouldn't spare a glance for such trash. Moreover, the Lord of Knowledge was famously neutral and would never entangle himself in matters so overtly tied to divine conflicts.
"Then what am I supposed to do? I can't just let it rot on my hands." Anbaixiu had never imagined a day when a divine portfolio—supposedly the ultimate hard currency—would prove impossible to sell.
"I recall you have several demigods among your acquaintances," the God of Alchemy suggested. "Why not offer it to them?"
Anbaixiu shook his head. "None of them have any use for it."
Within the Elegy Poetry Society, only three individuals were worthy of a divine portfolio: the Poet, Aige, and that ghoul elder, Youjiaxi. Yet all three had explicitly stated they had no intention of fusing with another's portfolio.
The Poet had no need for it; his state was unique, suspended between mortal and god without being a demigod, so a portfolio was useless to him.
Aige insisted on achieving godhood on her own so that Ao might take notice, which was her only slim chance of resurrecting her father. Fusing with someone else's portfolio would condemn her to remaining a lesser deity forever, an existence Ao wouldn't deign to glance at.
Youjiaxi was in a similar position. He wasn't far from attaining godhood himself; perhaps lying around for another few centuries would do the trick, so there was no reason to absorb an unwanted scrap of a portfolio.
Anbaixiu had even considered selling it to the President of the Elegy Poetry Society, but the venerable senior had ignored him completely, not bothering to return a single word.
As Anbaixiu fretted, a spark of inspiration suddenly struck. "Wait... it seems someone really could use it! Teacher, if a deity has fallen after losing their portfolio, what would happen if they fused with a portfolio that didn't originally belong to them?"
"A fallen deity? Let me think." The question caught the God of Alchemy off guard, but he soon gave an answer: "That would signify the rebirth of a deity. Unlike mortals who force their way into godhood, a fallen deity attained divinity through their own power in the first place. Fusing with a new portfolio wouldn't stifle their future growth. It is vastly different from a mortal's case."
Anbaixiu beamed. "Then I know who to sell it to... No, I should say, who to gift it to."
The Lady of Mists, Leira—she was the perfect candidate.
Back in the Emerald Dream Forest, Anbaixiu had met her and agreed to help her contend with the Prince of Lies, Cyric. At the time, it had been mere lip service; he had never imagined he could offer any real assistance against a greater deity.
Yet now, if he could restore the Lady of Mists to true divinity, wouldn't he gain two divine backers who would never abandon him?
Besides, even though the Lady of Mists had fallen, her connections remained. She might even rally a host of other deities to his side—such as the mighty Goddess of Magic.
Chapter 304