The situation between Ryan and the Unholy Hymn grew increasingly tense.
The death of the Iron-Blood General, Rachel Angelo, had not brought an end to the war; instead, it prompted Ryan to deploy even more troops to the border.
Moreover, word spread from Ryan that the emperor himself would lead the campaign, arriving at the front lines to rally the troops.
Ryan had undeniably brought out its full might, leaving the tieflings of the Unholy Hymn on edge.
Yet the upper and lower echelons of tieflings were worried about entirely different things.
The common folk worried whether those Gates of Hell could withstand Ryan's invasion, while the upper echelon fretted over the news Domino Lawley had brought back.
Mister Misfortune intended to foil their plans and send them, the nobility, straight to Hell.
This sounded like utter fantasy, but they all knew what kind of pact they had signed. If the Gates of Hell opened without a hitch and successfully repelled Ryan's armies, the entire kingdom would plunge into Hell. The special privilege granted to the nobles was that they would not suffer torment there, but would instead be transformed into devils under the command of the Archduke of Hell.
Their plan had been exposed, rumors were spreading, and Mister Misfortune was actively opposing them.
Divination wizards were elusive and unpredictable; Domino Lawley had already witnessed it firsthand, having been left without even a chance to cry for help.
Two whole days had passed, yet whenever she closed her eyes, she relived that terrifying scene: like an insect caught in a spiderweb, the more she struggled, the more tightly she was ensnared. She had exhausted every trick in her arsenal, only to end up unconscious without even knowing how she had been knocked out.
But avoidance solved nothing. Time was ticking away, and Ryan's invasion would not cease.
If they wanted everything to proceed according to plan, these tieflings had to eliminate Mister Misfortune.
Yet the man was maddeningly elusive, nowhere to be found regardless of their methods.
Domino Lawley racked her brain for two days without coming up with a single solution. Then, two days later, a bizarre alchemical contraption was delivered to her.
It was a massive full-length mirror with an extraordinarily complex mechanical structure on the back. Domino Lawley was herself an alchemist recognized by the City of Alchemy, yet even after studying it for ages, she could not fully decipher the mirror's operating principles.
Now, everyone in the meeting was staring at Domino Lawley, for she was the one who had shared the intelligence about Mister Misfortune with them in the first place.
Seeing the worried, bewildered looks of these Unholy Ones, Domino Lawley sighed and had attendants wheel out the mirror.
"Everyone, someone delivered this mirror yesterday. I don't know who sent it, but they left a note saying that if we want to resolve our current predicament, we should use this mirror to contact them."
Domino Lawley passed the note around to the other Unholy Ones. As each of them finished reading, their expressions turned exceedingly grim.
It was an unmistakable threat, yet they were utterly powerless against it.
Knowing they had no choice, Domino Lawley followed the instructions on the note and activated the mirror.
A moment later, a young man with black hair and dark eyes appeared in the mirror.
"Well now, greetings, Unholy Ones. I thought you'd need a few more days to deliberate. It seems you're all smart people who act swiftly."
Domino Lawley frowned. The face looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn't recall off the top of her head where she had seen it before.
With such distinct features and eye color, she shouldn't have mistaken him. But where on earth had she encountered him?
As Domino Lawley pondered, the other Unholy Ones could no longer contain themselves.
"Kid, who in the world are you? Are you the one collaborating with that traitor?"
The Unholy One speaking was named Sadio Luce, perhaps the wealthiest noble in the Unholy Hymn. His family favored commerce, holding a tight grip on many vital industries across the realm, pulling in mountains of gold coins every single day.
The figure in the mirror was, of course, Anbaixiu, merely disguised in human form.
Facing the tiefling's interrogation, Anbaixiu smiled and said, "Asking who I am? My name isn't important, just as I have no desire to ask for yours, because what we're about to discuss has nothing to do with names. Tell me, gentlemen and ladies: do you want to plunge into Hell and be charred to a crisp by hellfire?"
Listening to Anbaixiu's voice, a flash of inspiration struck Domino Lawley. She looked at Anbaixiu and said, "Master Tiga Ultraman, is that you? I saw your portrait back in the City of Alchemy, and I have read your treatises."
Anbaixiu gave a chuckle and said, "The honor is mine, Master Lawley. I have always sincerely admired your achievements in alchemy as well. It is precisely for that reason that, at this critical juncture, I'm here to offer you all a deal to help you out of your predicament."
Domino Lawley frowned; she could sense the false politeness in Anbaixiu's words. Her supposed reputation was utterly meaningless; the man was merely making casual excuses. This negotiation promised to be exceptionally arduous.
"Master Ultraman, first I need to confirm one point: are you collaborating with that traitor of our Unholy Hymn?" Domino Lawley asked.
Anbaixiu made no attempt to conceal it. "That's right. He is an old friend of mine, and in a sense, we were students taught by the same master. Therefore, at Mister Misfortune's invitation, I am providing assistance to his endeavors."
"Do you have any idea that doing this makes you an enemy of the Unholy Hymn?!" Domino Lawley threatened. "We can dispatch an army of a hundred thousand to hunt you down. No matter where you hide, we will root you out!"
Anbaixiu listened calmly to her threat before replying, "I thought your time was precious and that there was no need to waste it on such tedious posturing. But from the looks of it, you seem quite at peace with the prospect of going to Hell—not in the least bit anxious, are you?"
As Domino Lawley was about to retort, Anbaixiu suddenly raised his voice: "Your time may be cheap, but that doesn't mean my time can be squandered. Domino Lawley, let's dispense with the tedious red tape and negotiation procedures. I'll lay it out plainly: Mister Misfortune knows about the pact you signed with the hell lords, every last clause of it.
"And now, he has signed a new pact with the hell lords. The Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn will not plunge into Hell, but you Unholy Ones will suffer hundreds, even thousands of years of agonizing torture there. As things stand, there is nothing you can do except wait to go to Hell and wail in the hellfire for centuries or millennia. And I am your only hope."
Domino Lawley fired back, "A mere divination wizard in exchange for an entire kingdom? Would the hell lords be incapable of doing that simple math?"
Rather than explaining, Anbaixiu produced several memory crystals and projected their contents.
Everyone saw the scene where Mister Misfortune had signed the pact. Both Zariel and Tiamat were present, and far from one party condescending over the other, it looked like a truly equal covenant.
Anbaixiu displayed a portion of the pact, pointing at the infernal script. "This section spells it out clearly. The only ones descending to Hell are you Unholy Ones along with some of your kin—roughly a hundred thousand people in total. Furthermore, Master Lawley, you probably don't appreciate the rarity of a divination wizard. If you tallied up every divination wizard across the entire continent, there might not even be five. As for their worth, you will understand when the time comes; I guarantee it will be unforgettable."
When Anbaixiu revealed these projections, all the Unholy Ones froze in stunned silence.
They dared not question the authenticity of the images, for the likenesses of two hell lords were upon them.
Even a lifelike statue could draw a deity's notice. If an image like this had been fabricated, the two hell lords would have undoubtedly struck down the mortal who committed such sacrilege.
As for the contents of the pact, they did not understand the infernal language of devils and could not judge its veracity.
But if Zariel and Tiamat were real, how could the pact be fake? Besides, it wasn't as if they couldn't summon Zariel to verify it; surely the other party wouldn't forge something like this when it served no purpose.
If all of this was true... wouldn't they be utterly finished? Descending to Hell to serve a hell lord and descending to Hell to undergo torture were two completely different things!
The group of Unholy Ones erupted into fierce arguing, while Anbaixiu quietly watched them bicker.
Some favored making threats, some urged cooperation, some wanted to negotiate terms, while others lapsed into dead silence... Even the rulers of a nation could not all remain calm when faced with a matter of life and death.
In the end, Domino Lawley, the most senior Unholy One among them, forcefully quieted the room. Only then did she speak to Anbaixiu on behalf of the entire Council of Iniquity: "Since you spoke of a deal, tell us first: what can you give us? I don't believe you can convince the hell lords to alter the pact, nor do I believe you would betray your friend."
Anbaixiu nodded. "Indeed. I am merely a mortal; why would the hell lords care for me? Amending the pact is impossible, so your descent into Hell to face torture is a certainty."
"Then what deal is there to speak of?!" Domino Lawley said angrily.
Anbaixiu offered no explanation, simply pulling out a peculiarly shaped coin.
Manipulating the magic mirror with a casual flick, he sent the coin through the miniature teleportation array beside the mirror right into the council chamber.
"Why don't you take a look at this? I trust someone with discerning eyes will recognize what it is."
Sadio Luce, who had been the most agitated just moments ago, hurriedly snatched the coin and cried in astonishment, "A soul coin! This is a soul coin, the common currency of Hell!"
Anbaixiu nodded. "Precisely, a soul coin. Mortal possessions hold little value to devils, but souls are the hard currency of Hell. Think about it: if each of you could present a vast quantity of soul coins to the hell lords upon descending to Hell, wouldn't you stand a chance at being spared your punishment?"
Sadio Luce lunged forward to the magic mirror, breathlessly asking Anbaixiu, "How many do you have? What price are you asking?"
Looking at that face twisted with madness, blocking most of the mirror's view, Anbaixiu knew this deal was already half won.
Anbaixiu spoke to the magic mirror, "I have 1.5 million soul coins here, each sealing the soul of an elite warrior. Calculate for yourselves how much it costs to train a qualified warrior. Even for someone exceptionally gifted, training them costs hundreds, if not a thousand gold coins. I won't bother with petty change—one thousand gold coins for one soul coin. Oh, and by the way, the first two customers get a ten percent discount."
Chapter 340