Anbaixiu looked down at Domino Lawley sprawled on the ground and said to Mister Misfortune, "You gave your heart to the bright moon, but the moon would rather shine on a foul ditch than cast a single ray upon you."
Mister Misfortune frowned. "Where did you hear that proverb? That's venomous."
Anbaixiu had followed Mister Misfortune here, only for the old fellow to insist on staging a passionate confession. In the end, Domino Lawley had not been moved in the slightest and had tried every possible trick to escape.
Unable to flee the house, she had thrown a ring.
The trinket exploded in midair—not particularly powerful, but deafeningly loud.
She had clearly hoped to draw attention and summon the guards to her aid.
Unfortunately, just as her ring detonated, a massive clap of thunder rolled across the sky, followed by a torrential downpour that drowned out all sound.
Domino Lawley stared outside in utter shock.
It was not that she didn't know Mister Misfortune was a divination wizard, but she had never truly witnessed the power of destiny.
Divination wizards were simply too rare, and the tales circulating among the public claimed nothing more than that they could foresee the future.
Yet the power Mister Misfortune was displaying now was as miraculous as a deity's.
Even in her shock, Domino Lawley continued to thrash and seek an escape. Naturally, none of it worked. Whether magical items, spells, or even drawing her sword to slash at Mister Misfortune, nothing produced the slightest effect.
In the end, Anbaixiu grew impatient and knocked her unconscious.
With two legendary divination wizards joining forces in a prepared ambush, Domino Lawley—a tiefling who had long lost her edge—could only be toyed with in the palms of their hands.
Mister Misfortune stared at the fallen Domino Lawley with a conflicted expression. Anbaixiu teased, "Why don't you fulfill your dream while she's out cold? Or else let's get out of here."
From the start, the two had not come to kill. Slaying Domino Lawley was completely pointless, because whether they killed her or not, she was destined for Hell regardless.
Mister Misfortune had truly just wanted to lay his cards on the table with her. This was the final time he would ever see Domino Lawley.
He had merely never expected that their final meeting would end in such an utter mess.
After a long time, Mister Misfortune finally withdrew his gaze and said to Anbaixiu, "Let's go. Time to do what we must."
Anbaixiu sighed. "Not even your old flame can sway your resolve to die?"
Mister Misfortune shook his head. "She's no old flame. She never had a clue; it was just wishful thinking on my part. Besides, what is personal romance compared to the greater good?"
Anbaixiu replied helplessly, "Fine then. Once you're gone, what little humanity I have left will probably fade away too."
Anbaixiu had not been a lich for very long. Compared to his several centuries of life, hiding away in a castle conducting experiments had been far too uneventful.
Perhaps because it had been so quiet, his memories of days past had not washed away much. He had once thought he was quite like a lich—until he returned to the places of his past and met an old friend.
Those long-buried memories had surged into his mind all at once, stirring up faint ripples of emotion.
They had given Anbaixiu an impulse to help him at any cost, which was why he had threatened Zariel and spent so much money on his account.
Even so, it was nearly time for it all to end.
"Let's go. Zariel and Tiamat have probably been waiting long enough. Hell lords have little patience."
Anbaixiu walked shoulder to shoulder with Mister Misfortune, passing the statue of Arthur Ryan. The musicians were still performing pieces singing Arthur Ryan's praises.
Anbaixiu suddenly asked, "Do you think they know Ryan is about to march on them?"
Mister Misfortune replied, "It doesn't matter whether they know or not. Everyone has things to do and duties to fulfill. They are simply doing their jobs conscientiously."
The two walked across the square until they reached a deserted place, where Anbaixiu drew a teleportation array on the ground.
Stepping inside, they arrived in the Underdark the very next second.
For a massive altar capable of summoning hell lords, it was better to borrow the Rose of Decay's.
Melina had long been waiting there. Seeing Anbaixiu appear, she hurried over to greet him.
"Father, everything is ready."
That single shout nearly sent Mister Misfortune tumbling to the ground. He turned to Anbaixiu in shock. "You actually have a daughter?!"
Anbaixiu retorted, "What's so surprising about that?"
Mister Misfortune asked dubiously, "You're an undead! Wait, don't tell me you got married and had a child while alive, and then turned your daughter into an undead?"
Anbaixiu sneered, "Does your imagination only work when you're gossiping?"
Mister Misfortune didn't mind in the slightest. "Then what really happened? Tell me. I'm about to die anyway; just indulge my curiosity."
Helpless, Anbaixiu had no choice but to recount Melina's origins to Mister Misfortune. Even well-traveled and knowledgeable as Mister Misfortune was, he was astonished by such a bizarre tale. Who knew the undead could have children like that?
After marveling at it, however, Mister Misfortune said to Anbaixiu, "You lucky brat, your fortune is better than mine. Cherish it."
Anbaixiu asked, puzzled, "Cherish what?"
Mister Misfortune rolled his eyes at Anbaixiu. The kid was still playing dumb! Too weary to dwell on a topic that brought him sorrow, he urged, "Come on, summon those two hell lords and let's get this over with."
Anbaixiu muttered, "I haven't seen many people in my life rushing to their deaths like this."
Still, stalling was pointless, for destiny was already sealed.
Melina was placed onto the altar by Anbaixiu once more. Mister Misfortune then watched, dumbfounded, as Anbaixiu chanted the summoning incantation in an exceedingly perfunctory manner.
Although he did not understand the language of devils, it did not sound the least bit devout or humble.
Did this kid truly have no fear of being struck down by deities?
Yet despite such a perfunctory summoning ritual, two plumes of flame still materialized upon the altar.
The first was the winged fallen angel Zariel, and the second was the Dragon Goddess Tiamat, whom Anbaixiu had only seen once before.
Looking at the two hell lords, Anbaixiu said calmly, "Miladies, as decided, we have come to sign the new contract."
Mister Misfortune had initially felt somewhat nervous. As a tiefling, this was his first time meeting a hell lord. Perhaps it was the resonance of the fiendish blood within him, but he felt an urge to prostrate himself in reverence.
Yet Anbaixiu's calm demeanor proved infectious, and Mister Misfortune ultimately stood straight, waiting for his destiny to arrive.
The Dragon Goddess Tiamat glanced at Anbaixiu and said, "Lich, interested in becoming my worshiper? Pick any chromatic dragon you like; I can give you a true dragon as a pet."
Mister Misfortune's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. What was going on here?
Tiamat was offering the kid a dragon of her own accord just for worshiping her? Wasn't that offer far too generous?
And what shocked Mister Misfortune even more was Anbaixiu's response—he refused without a second thought.
"No, thanks. I'm already raising a dragon, and she eats quite a lot. I can't afford a second one."
This was no lie. Every time Naomi turned into a dragon, her appetite surged, and she would devour over ten times her usual food. Though the lass wasn't a picky eater, she was truly no easy mouth to feed.
Mister Misfortune turned his head to look at Anbaixiu. This kid actually owned a dragon?! He couldn't be making it up, could he?
Tiamat snorted coldly, while Zariel burst into laughter and mocked, "Tiamat, you know full well this lich won't give us what we want. Why ask for embarrassment?"
Tiamat's face darkened, and she changed the subject. "Let us talk business now. Lich, state the terms you proposed earlier once more."
Anbaixiu looked at Mister Misfortune, then said to Tiamat, "He and I will construct an Astral Plane conduit for your ladyships in exchange for the millions of souls of the Unholy Hymn. The specific list Vladimir will provide to you, as I believe you have already discussed. At the same time, Vladimir will regain his freedom and will not fall into Hell."
Tiamat said, "That is not right, lich. Where are the millions of soul coins you promised me? You damned lich, are you trying to swindle me out of my money?"
Anbaixiu said with surprise, "Weren't you the ones who said you didn't want them back then?"
With that, Anbaixiu looked toward Zariel. Back then, Zariel had explicitly stated she wouldn't take a single coin—she would rather hold a grudge.
Zariel sneered disdainfully, "I said I didn't want any; I never said Tiamat didn't. Millions of tiefling souls, and you expect to waive it with a few clever words from that mouth of yours? Lich, do you take us for brain-dead lesser demons?"
Anbaixiu sighed. "All right, your ladyships make a fair point. Please name your price, then."
What followed was a back-and-forth round of bargaining. Mister Misfortune watched Anbaixiu haggle over prices with an Archduke of Hell. The lich truly dared to counteroffer—Tiamat opened with five million, and he fired back with fifty thousand.
Mister Misfortune was thoroughly convinced now: his junior brother had not a shred of respect for deities—in fact, it bordered on contempt.
In the end, the price was settled at 1.5 million soul coins, and every single coin had to be of high quality, no worse than the one Zariel had inspected before.
Tiamat was actually quite satisfied with this price; the quality of those millions of tiefling souls was uneven, and they could never match such high quality.
Then, at Anbaixiu's insistence, both Archdukes of Hell swore in the name of Ao, and both sides signed the contract.
Whichever party breached it would suffer punishment.
Next, all that remained was for Anbaixiu to prepare the soul coins and complete the transaction.
The negotiation had gone unimaginably smoothly. This was the first time Mister Misfortune had ever heard of devils of Hell being so agreeable. Were all the stories lies? Mister Misfortune still hadn't fully processed it all by the time the two fiends dissolved into flames and vanished.
Once he came to his senses, he marveled to Anbaixiu, "Arthas, just what have you been through all these years?"
No mortal could stand before deities with such arrogance; it defied reason. Even for an undead, reverence for the gods ought to be etched into the soul.
The only explanation was that over those centuries, he had endured trials beyond imagination, and those experiences had stripped away all awe of the gods, giving him the audacity to plot against deities—just as they were about to do.
Anbaixiu handed the contract to Mister Misfortune and said, "It's not too late to regret this, Vladimir. I'll advise you one last time: give up the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn and come with me. I know a few paladins who could abandon even Ryan. What is there to hold dear about this kingdom of yours, tainted and foul with hellish corruption?"
Mister Misfortune shook his head at Anbaixiu. "Say no more. If I were going to give up, I would have done so centuries ago. This is the place that birthed and raised me. I will dedicate everything to this land and its people, even if it means complete obliteration."
Anbaixiu felt helpless, but pressed no further. He said to Mister Misfortune, "If that's how it is, let's get to work. Let us snuff out every other possibility, and leave behind the future you desire."
Chapter 339