Even the Lord of the Dawn Wouldn't Believe It

James Watson looked at Anbaixiu, baffled by the lich's confidence. "Do you truly know what the Blood of Lathander is?" James asked. Anbaixiu answered, "I've heard of it. A sword stained with the blood of the Lord of the Dawn, isn't it?" "It isn't that simple," James said with utmost gravity. "The Ryan Empire possesses three great artifacts. The first, of course, is the Dragon Tyrant Armament. The second is the Crown of Lathander, which can convert the people's faith into the power of the Holy Light. However, those two artifacts generally cannot be deployed, which makes the Blood of Lathander the most frequently used in recent years." Anbaixiu nodded and said, "Master Morgan was slain by the Silvermoon Knight using that artifact. I've already heard the story." The Ryan Empire never publicly disclosed the details of its crusade against the undead, but the Rose of Decay knew them intimately—she had witnessed them firsthand. Back when the Rose of Decay fled Ryan under relentless pursuit, she had been forced into the Underdark and cast herself into the Mercury Sea. Master Morgan protected her soul and aided her transformation into a lich. Master Morgan was the author of the soul puppet theory and a formidable lich in his own right, commanding countless undead beneath his banner, including numerous soul puppets with no fear of the Holy Light. When the Silvermoon Knight led his troops into the Underdark, the maze-like labyrinth curtailed Ryan's numerical advantage. Through ambush after ambush and a grinding war of attrition, the Ryan soldiers accompanying the Silvermoon Knight suffered catastrophic casualties. Master Morgan also had the Rose of Decay by his side, whose Death Gaze was the bane of all living beings. Yet despite all that, the Silvermoon Knight slaughtered his way directly before Master Morgan in the end. This was not merely due to the knight's own prowess, but far more importantly, because of the Blood of Lathander. "If I'm not mistaken, the Blood of Lathander possesses two effects. It allows its wielder to resurrect after death, and it can blind the undead. Am I right?" Anbaixiu asked. James was mildly surprised, though considering the lich's connections, it hardly seemed worth being shocked over. "Indeed. The resurrection effect is secondary, in fact; if you can kill the artifact's wielder once, reviving just means dying a second time. The truly formidable effect is the second one: the Blood of Lathander severs an undead's senses. "You aren't merely blinded; you are deafened as well. You are plunged entirely into absolute nothingness, incapable of sensing even the destruction of your own soul. This, too, is the mercy of the Lord of the Dawn—granting you an unpainful demise." The undead had no eyes or ears; they experienced the world through their perception, which mapped it out like an exhaustive manual. If stripped of that perception, Anbaixiu wouldn't even be able to tell whether he was standing up or lying down. This was precisely where the Blood of Lathander's greatest power lay—a true nemesis to the undead. Seeing Anbaixiu remain silent, James pressed on. "Even putting those two effects aside, the Blood of Lathander was originally the Holy King's sidearm, the very blade that slew the Demonic Dragon Tyrant. It was drenched in the dragon's blood, granting it a permanent Haste effect, along with resistance against the vast majority of temporal powers..." The former Supreme Arbiter droned on and on, expounding at length on the artifact's extraordinary might. Growing impatient, Anbaixiu cut him off. "Why are you blathering so much? It's not like I plan to face the artifact myself." What a joke. Charge headfirst into the Blood of Lathander, an artifact specifically engineered to slaughter the undead? Only a fool would do that. "You built such a grand stage precisely to display your power to the world. You cannot avoid this battle." "Heh, I never said I was avoiding it. Originally, I was a bit concerned that those seven legends might prove troublesome. But hearing your impassioned lecture, it sounds as though legendary paladins and clerics of light don't even matter—only the artifact does. In that case, they'll only lose all the more miserably. "Did the Lord of the Dawn teach you to pin all your hopes of victory on a single artifact? Once on the battlefield, if anything goes wrong with that genuine artifact, guess what will happen to them?" Anbaixiu's words stunned James. He asked in bewilderment, "Something go wrong with the artifact? You can even... wait, did you receive His divine revelation?!" James frightened himself with his own thought. A lich receiving a divine revelation from the Lord of the Dawn? Had the Lord of the Dawn told him the artifact wouldn't work? Previously, he never would have believed it. But now James was well aware of the royal family's corruption, and whether Ryan still enjoyed the Lord of the Dawn's protection was hard to say. Not to mention, the heroic spirit of Arthur Ryan was currently in Anbaixiu's hands. Whose side the Lord of the Dawn truly stood on was anyone's guess. Anbaixiu patted James on the shoulder. "What on earth are you imagining? Even if the Lord of the Dawn wanted to give me a revelation, I couldn't endure it. Holy Light and dark magic are inherently antithetical energies. If He attempted a divine descent on me, I'd blow up instantly." James breathed a slight sigh of relief. While that was true, he still harbored an inescapable feeling that Anbaixiu had some outrageous trick up his sleeve. "What method do you actually have?" James asked, perplexed. "If I tell you, can you swear not to spread it?" Anbaixiu asked. James replied, "You know what kind of man I am. What I promise, I deliver. Furthermore, you know full well what my current standing is. You can safely tell me everything." With that, James gazed at Anbaixiu with an earnest expression. Anbaixiu scoffed, "You little rascal, agree to it first! You haven't even given your word, yet you're already trying to dance around it. I grew sick of using that trick three hundred years ago!" After all that talk, James hadn't once promised never to let the secret slip; he had merely dodged the condition and pressed Anbaixiu for answers. Even this Supreme Arbiter had gone bad, learning how to deceive people with silver-tongued evasions. James's old face flushed crimson. He truly had been trying to divert the topic, never expecting Anbaixiu to see through it immediately. This lich was indeed crafty! "Then what do you want? I traveled thousands of miles to warn you, and you can't even offer this shred of trust?" James protested heatedly. "Wow, trying to play the moral high ground on me? Have you ever seen an undead care about morals? If you want to know, fine. Swear an oath to the Lord of the Dawn that no matter how wicked, cruel, or treacherous my plan is, you won't reveal it to anyone by any means. Even talking in your sleep will count as breaking your vow." Breaking an oath meant being condemned to the Hells, particularly one sworn to a deity by a believer; the consequences of violation were far more terrifying. James had initially thought keeping silent wouldn't be an issue, but hearing Anbaixiu tack on so many ominous qualifiers—wicked, cruel, and treacherous—made him hesitate. Even though he had departed Ryan, he remained a follower of the Lord of the Dawn. If Anbaixiu's scheme was utterly depraved, he, as a cleric of light, could not simply pretend not to see it, let alone stand idly by. Yet if he tucked his tail between his legs and ignored such villainy out of fear, wouldn't that also betray the teachings of the Lord of the Dawn? A fierce battle raged within James. He felt as though he had reached a crossroads in his life, utterly at a loss as to which path to choose. Failing to stop Anbaixiu might allow a horrifyingly cruel plan to unfold. Stopping Anbaixiu, on the other hand, would permit the Ryan royal family to continue corrupting the empire and driving everyone into ruin. This brand of moral interrogation was exceedingly potent against the righteous. James felt a sharp pain in his chest, struggling to catch his breath. If only he were still the Supreme Arbiter. Everything could have been deferred to the laws of Ryan for judgment. But upon resigning, those cold yet effective rules lost their authority, leaving him stranded in bewilderment. This was who James Watson was: vacillating, wanting to be a good person without the capability to do so, yet incapable of being a villain. For that reason, he could never lead the people of Ryan in a revolution. Anbaixiu took great pleasure in watching James squirm. It was high time the old fellow paid for rejecting his manuscript back then. Seeing the old man clutch his chest, looking on the verge of collapsing from sheer exasperation, Anbaixiu finally spoke. "How about this? We're old acquaintances, so out of our past rapport, I'll offer you a discount. I certainly can't divulge the details of my plan, but for every thousand gold coins you give me, I'll spare one Ryan citizen. If you're bold enough to hand over tens of millions of gold coins, not a single soul in that Ryan legion will have to die. How does that sound?" Upon hearing this, James instantly roared, "Where would I get money to give you?!" He had already resigned, which meant he had no salary. Furthermore, James had never engaged in embezzlement or bribery. After leaving Ryan, his pockets were clean as a whistle; leave alone a thousand gold coins, he couldn't produce even one. Anbaixiu's interest vanished at once. He waved at James. "Then get lost. Room and board aren't free here!" With that, he had his subordinates escort him away, no longer bothering to pay him any heed. Even deities ignored you if there were no benefits to be gained, let alone a lich. Driven out by a cohort of undead, James boarded the ship he had arrived on once more. Watching the small island sink back into its shroud of illusions, James couldn't resist reaching into a magical pouch and retrieving a magic mirror. Earlier, in order to accelerate the growth of the God of Alchemy's power, Anbaixiu had handed out these magic mirrors for free, distributing them to numerous people. James held one as well. He could have communicated with Anbaixiu directly through the mirror, but after some thought, James had chosen to deliver his warning in person. He didn't trust the security of such alchemical devices, believing that news of such importance was best delivered face-to-face. He had never expected that he would end up needing it now. However, James wasn't contacting Anbaixiu; he was reaching out to his son, Cade Watson. Cade appeared in the magic mirror thoroughly intoxicated. James scolded his son furiously; of all his children, this one had been the laziest and most fond of pleasure since childhood. Yet this time, he truly had no one else to consult. His eldest son had severed ties with him completely, and Alan was run ragged every day with no time to spare. Though Cade was indolent, James knew that among his family, this son was the cleverest—and the one with the most spare coin at hand. After recounting his encounter to Cade, James asked, "How much money do you have? Lend it all to me. That lich is obsessed with money; give him gold, and we can find out his plan." Cade's head wasn't entirely clear yet, but upon hearing this, he blurted out, "Father, what are you thinking? You've been conned by that lich again. You told me yourself that the Holy King's heroic spirit is in his hands—and willingly, at that. I might not know what the lich is scheming, but even the Holy King has acknowledged his kindness and righteousness. What right do we have to doubt him? "If I may speak frankly, Father, does the number of people you've saved in your lifetime even amount to a fraction of that lich's count? Him, committing a massacre? Even the Lord of the Dawn wouldn't believe it."