Anbaixiu stared at Mister Misfortune in the mirror, momentarily at a loss for words.
Why would Zariel negotiate a new contract with Mister Misfortune? It was an obvious losing bargain. Why make such a trade—just because Mister Misfortune was a divination wizard?
Though rare, the class could hardly compare to the collapse of an entire kingdom.
Even Tiamat stood to gain far more than just those millions of souls. Once the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn fell, countless more tieflings would perish in the war, and a vast portion of their souls would descend into Hell as well.
Why would anyone turn down such a prize?
After thinking it over, Anbaixiu asked, "Have you signed the contract yet?"
Mister Misfortune shook his head. "Not yet. Once I finish compiling the list of everyone who needs saving, I'll speak with Zariel again. But it's basically settled."
"Then don't sign it. Just get out of there. If I remember correctly, your ancestors renounced their status as Unholy Ones long ago. Your family isn't included in the deal. As long as you leave the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn, you'll survive."
Though Mister Misfortune came from an illustrious family, as some of the earliest Unholy Ones, their bloodline had dwindled to very few. The reason was that when the Council of Iniquity first seized absolute power, Mister Misfortune's ancestors had deemed it a desecration of the heroes and withdrawn from the council.
Back then, Zariel hadn't even signed a contract with the Council of Iniquity.
Therefore, Mister Misfortune wasn't on the list of those destined for Hell. If he wanted to flee, how hard could it be for a divination wizard?
Mister Misfortune smiled bitterly. "I've spent my entire life striving for this kingdom, trying to wash away my ancestors' shame. If I run away when the kingdom is in peril, what meaning does my life have left?"
Even those who were not undead possessed their own obsessions.
Mister Misfortune had devoted his entire life to the land beneath his feet. He had to know Zariel was deceiving him, but he truly had no other options.
Altering the destiny of a kingdom was simply beyond his power.
Seeing Anbaixiu's silence, Mister Misfortune chuckled. "Don't be like that. You're a lich—what are you being so sentimental for?"
Anbaixiu replied flatly, "I just think this deal is far too terrible. Knowing full well it's a loss and still doing it—how do you expect me to stomach that?"
"What other choice do I have?" Mister Misfortune asked helplessly. "To be honest, if you could help me solve this, I'd give you my life. That's still better than falling into Hell."
Anbaixiu stroked his chin. "Let me think. What strikes me as odd is that the nobles of the Unholy Hymn should belong to Tiamat. Why is Zariel the one negotiating with you?"
"Zariel said Tiamat granted Her full authorization to negotiate with me," Mister Misfortune explained. "Do you think She's lying?"
Anbaixiu shook his head. "Not about that. Devils don't pull tricks with the terms you actually know, or the contract won't hold. For example, if you ask a devil for a million gold coins, they will give you exactly one million coins without shortchanging you, because that's something you know. But a devil will pull tricks with *how* it's given—it could be severance pay, compensation, or stolen funds used to frame you.
"Not a single gold coin will be missing, because that is an established fact known to the contractor. Since Zariel said Tiamat entrusted the matter entirely to Her, it can't be a lie. Tiamat must have agreed to Zariel's deal with you. That's precisely what I can't figure out: why would She ever agree?"
The original contract regarding the Unholy Hymn was divided into two parts: if the Gate of Hell successfully opened and held off Ryan's army, the entire kingdom would fall into Hell; if the Gate of Hell was destroyed, the thirteen families of the Unholy Ones would all descend into Hell.
Those two wagers seemed different on the surface, but they had one thing in common—they could be split equally.
Zariel and Tiamat could tally the accounts soul by soul; they could always divide them up.
Yet this new transaction was different. The core was Mister Misfortune's allegiance, and that couldn't be divided. Mister Misfortune couldn't possibly serve two hell lords at the same time.
That was impossible. Both Tiamat and Zariel were intensely controlling and would never permit a subordinate to swear fealty to two masters.
Nor could they slice Mister Misfortune in two. His greatest value lay in his identity as a legendary divination wizard; splitting his soul would ruin him.
Anbaixiu voiced his doubts to Mister Misfortune. After a moment of thought, Mister Misfortune asked, "Could they be substituting it with something else? For example, having all the other souls go to Tiamat while I become Zariel's subordinate?"
Anbaixiu let out a dry laugh. "Wouldn't Tiamat be taking a massive loss then? Giving up millions of souls for nothing? If She refused, wouldn't simply splitting the souls with Zariel be far more profitable?"
Under the new contract, the original millions of souls were reduced to several hundred thousand—shrunk to a mere tenth. Tiamat would lose terribly. Why would She agree unless Zariel pinned Her to the ground and beat Her into submission?
That probability was tiny, however. Hell lords were all cunning schemers. Even if Tiamat couldn't beat Zariel in a straight fight, She wouldn't be bullied into utter silence. Since the two hell lords were collaborating, both certainly possessed the means to maintain their autonomy.
Anbaixiu stroked his chin, lost in thought. "So, we've already found half the answer. What Zariel wants isn't you as a person, but something you can do for Her. And I imagine this task will also bring Tiamat enough benefits—far more than those millions of souls. But the question is, what can you possibly do for a hell lord?"
Mister Misfortune smiled bitterly. "My studies haven't been as varied as yours. I only understand the power of fate. If there's anything about me that can be used, it's that power. But would a hell lord really need someone to divine the future?"
Mister Misfortune felt something was amiss with Anbaixiu's deduction. After all, he was merely a mortal. How much use could his power truly be to a hell lord?
Anbaixiu shook his head. "Divining the future is definitely not it, but it certainly relates to your abilities. As for what specifically, we can't possibly guess. Without a single clue, pure imagination will be wrong ninety-nine percent of the time. Senior Brother, do you really not have any trump cards you haven't told me about?"
Mister Misfortune rolled his eyes at Anbaixiu. "If I had some hidden ability, wouldn't I bring it out right now? I'm on the verge of being dragged down to Hell! If you can't guess, stop making wild assumptions. It won't help our current situation at all."
The sliver of hope that had just sprouted within Mister Misfortune was instantly extinguished. No wonder he couldn't divine the kingdom's future; in hindsight, it was the Goddess of Fate showing him mercy, sparing him from prolonged despair.
Yet here he and Anbaixiu were, two disobedient children insisting on unearthing the bloody truth, only for the end result to naturally be a tragedy.
Mister Misfortune wanted to urge Anbaixiu to stop meddling, lest he end up tangling himself in it as well.
"Arthas, I've never begged you for anything in my life, but this is my dying request. Even if I reach an agreement with Zariel and save most of the tieflings, I don't know how long they can hold out against Ryan's invasion. If you have the strength to spare, please help them."
Anbaixiu chuckled. "You don't need to ask. I just set fire to Liuyan City."
"What?"
Mister Misfortune jumped in shock. Burned down Liuyan City? How had this lich managed that?
Ryan's cities all possessed powerful Holy Light magic arrays. They might not be overwhelmingly devastating to other races, but against the undead, the elemental counter was amplified twofold. A normal undead would be burned to ashes by the Holy Light the moment they got close!
Mister Misfortune said agitatedly, "Don't joke about something like that!"
"Who's joking with you? Not only did I burn Liuyan City, but I also plan to ask Zariel directly to see what She actually wants you to do."
Anbaixiu spoke so earnestly that Mister Misfortune was left utterly bewildered. Was this fellow actually being serious?
"Why would Zariel tell you?" Mister Misfortune asked.
"Might as well try. What if She does tell me?"
Mister Misfortune had no idea where Anbaixiu got such confidence. The lich had managed to pry into Tiamat's contract before only because that contract brought nothing but despair, leaving no room for a solution.
Now Anbaixiu wanted to ask again—and about such a critical detail. Why on earth would Zariel tell him?
In any negotiation, one kept their hole cards hidden. If you laid all your cards on the table from the start, how could you negotiate the price?
Still, Mister Misfortune couldn't help feeling touched. Anbaixiu could have simply walked away and stayed out of it, yet he was willing to take another risk for his sake.
With that thought, Mister Misfortune spoke with heartfelt sincerity: "Arthas, back then, I was too rash, too idealistic. All these years, we've lived as strangers with no contact, and the fault lies primarily with me. I'm sorry."
"An apology isn't as practical as gold coins. If I save you this time, you'll owe me tens of billions."
Mister Misfortune let out a soft laugh.
"Forget tens of billions—even ten times that wouldn't be an issue."
Looking at Mister Misfortune's bitter smile in the mirror, Anbaixiu silently severed the connection and teleported to the Underdark.
There was a ninety-nine percent chance Zariel wouldn't tell him the truth, but it was still worth a shot.
Upon arriving in the Underdark, Anbaixiu handed the hair he had collected to the Rose of Decay and said, "The curse is very effective. Don't let them have a moment of peace."
The Rose of Decay was more than happy to make trouble for Ryan. Taking the hair, she immediately began casting her spells. It seemed Liuyan City wouldn't see a single moment of quiet for the next few days.
"Melina, stand right here in a moment."
Anbaixiu placed the bewildered Melina upon the altar, then began chanting in the infernal tongue.
Every devil had their own summoning ritual. What Anbaixiu was reciting was the incantation unique to Zariel, though normally, completing it required a fierce, bloody battle as an offering.
This Archduke of Hell had habits distinct from other devils. She had little interest in slaughtering the weak; if you staged a fight to the death between two powerful warriors, that was actually more likely to draw Her down to watch.
However, Anbaixiu had no time to find two warriors to slaughter each other here. Having Melina stand there should be enough to draw Zariel's gaze.
Sure enough, before Anbaixiu could finish half the incantation, Zariel's flame-forged silhouette materialized above the altar.
Zariel glared coldly at Anbaixiu. "Lich, you had better give me a sensible explanation. Otherwise, this summoning—bordering on outright desecration—will be more than enough reason for me to punish you severely."
Chapter 328