In the Silvermoon High Court, another group of high-ranking elves gathered around a magic mirror, watching the live broadcast with rapt attention.
When Cyril Roland appeared before the lens, the elves gave voice to varied murmurs—exclamations of admiration, gasps of shock, thoughtful hums... all testifying to Cyril Roland's extraordinary status.
This Radiant General could well be considered a renowned figure throughout Ryan.
Unlike old veterans such as the Silvermoon Knight or the Shield of the Empire, Cyril Roland, in his fifties, was in his prime. He might not boast achievements as illustrious as the Silvermoon Knight's, but everyone knew this Radiant General was poised to become the foremost paladin of the new generation.
Behind Cyril Roland, the empire's legends were familiar faces as well. It was an exceptionally lavish lineup—facing a single lich was like using a lion to catch a rabbit.
Not all elves knew of the Elegy Poetry Society, nor did all understand Anbaixiu's hidden cards; they only knew that Anbaixiu's most famous feat was sending the entire Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn away.
Yet word was that this had been accomplished only through the self-sacrifice of another divination wizard, so the lich had likely just reaped the rewards, much as he had in the past.
Thus, hardly anyone held high hopes for Anbaixiu. Except for the young Elven King; from the very beginning, Aldarian had believed Anbaixiu would never lose.
The lich never acted without certainty. That he dared entice enemies from across the whole world to come meant he intended to greedily devour every last one of them, leaving not even a bone behind.
Aldarian was only curious about what method the lich would use to crush this Ryan legion.
Would he summon the members of the Elegy Poetry Society to strike together, crushing the Ryan soldiers like a falling boulder? Or would he cast some devastating spell, just like that meteor swarm from before?
Aldarian paid no attention to the footage centered on Cyril Roland. Instead, he constantly searched for details in the images, trying to figure out what plot the lich had devised.
And when Anbaixiu spoke to ask, "Can you name the crimes I have committed?"
Aldarian suddenly burst into laughter. All the elves turned to look at their king, and one couldn't help asking, "Why does Your Majesty laugh?"
Aldarian rubbed his cheeks to tone down his grin, then said to the other elves, "Watch closely. This lich doesn't just want to kill them—he wants to break their spirits. From this day forward, Ryan will no longer be able to stand on the side of justice."
The elves were bewildered. How had His Majesty arrived at such a conclusion? Could paladins crusading against the undead actually find themselves at a moral disadvantage?
Regardless, understanding wasn't necessary; they could simply keep watching.
The elves watched the magic mirror's live broadcast with rapt attention, as did other spectators everywhere.
Except that, unlike the schadenfreude of the elves, on Ryan's side Cade Watson was staring at the magic mirror with a grimace, unable to keep from muttering, "You fool, why would you ever try to argue with him?"
Though he hadn't spent much time around him, Cade Watson had heard far too many stories about that lich from his family. Whether it was his most revered father or his brilliant younger brother Alan, both had been utterly helpless against the lich. And what drove them to despair wasn't being unable to beat him in a fight, but being unable to out-talk him.
Even when facing paladins and clerics of light, this lich could still stand on the moral high ground, looking down on others and wagging his finger at them.
The Radiant General was formidable indeed, but only in battle; engaging in a war of words with this lich would likely ruin his reputation completely.
Not just in Ryan and the Silvermoon High Court, but far away in the Chaos Space among the tieflings, the druids of the Emerald Dream Forest, the New Alchemists' Council in the City of Alchemy... everyone gifted a magic mirror by Anbaixiu was watching, waiting to see the Ryan people suffer their greatest humiliation before the eyes of the entire world.
Anbaixiu's voice still echoed across the sky: "Please, name my sins."
How simple a question that was. Cyril Roland had judged countless undead, including liches of legendary rank.
A lich's crime was straightforward: slaying people to harvest souls and create a phylactery.
Yet Cyril Roland could not put this charge forward first. Mobilizing so many legends and such a massive force merely for that would lack persuasive power.
He needed more offenses, graver offenses, to justify the deployment.
Soon, Cyril Roland found a charge and proclaimed loudly, "You colluded with a hell lord to open an Astral portal, bringing in the Githyanki and red dragons! You invited an alien invasion to slaughter humankind! Your crimes are unforgivable!"
Anbaixiu chuckled softly and asked, "Slaughtering humans constitutes a crime?"
Cyril Roland declared as if it were self-evident, "Of course! Slaughtering humans is a heinous crime! What more do you have to say?!"
"Then allow me to ask a question. How did it happen that you Ryan people just happened to appear before the Astral portal? What reason brought you onto land that did not belong to you?!"
Cyril Roland furrowed his brow. He could not answer this question.
Ryan had invaded the Unholy Hymn just as the Astral portal opened, resulting in catastrophic losses for Ryan. But bringing that up would invite trouble and endless dispute.
Anbaixiu gave him no opportunity to evade, rebuking loudly, "It was you Ryan people who invaded the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn without cause, intending to butcher every tiefling! If slaughtering humans is a sin, does slaughtering tieflings not count? Does slaughtering other races not matter?
"Over the years, how many orcs, how many dwarves, how many tieflings has your Ryan Empire killed? How did that Iron-Blood General of yours earn his title of Iron-Blood? Do I need to lay out the evidence?! Lich though I am, the people I have slain do not amount to even a fraction of what that Iron-Blood General has butchered!"
Though Anbaixiu phrased it as a question, he gave Cyril Roland no chance to reply. Countless lights and shadows manifested in the sky, displaying scene after tragic, horrifying scene—images of other races being massacred, and the executioners were none other than the people of Ryan.
Veins bulged on Cyril Roland's hand as he gripped his hilt—not only because Anbaixiu had silenced him, but also because he had genuinely known nothing of these scenes. That damned butcher... he hadn't even spared the children?! Cyril Roland and the Iron-Blood General did not belong to the same branch of service. The Iron-Blood General was a border commander defending a whole frontier, while Cyril Roland was more like the captain of a special operations unit. The two normally had no dealings, at most hearing battle reports about each other.
This was the first time he had ever witnessed the so-called "purification of heretics."
That butcher... how could he dare commit such atrocities? How could someone like that still call himself a paladin?
Just as Cyril Roland was being overwhelmed by emotion, a paladin beside him walked over and said, "Roland! Don't fall for it! It's an illusion!"
Cyril Roland shuddered, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.
Right—these were merely phantoms conjured by the lich. There was no telling whether they were real or fake; he couldn't let his footing be thrown into chaos.
Cyril Roland took a deep breath and said to his companion, "Thank you, Lucas."
This was another legendary paladin, Cyril Roland's partner of many years, who had always been the calmest among them.
Lucas continued to Cyril Roland, "Don't step into the lich's trap. He's twisting the truth. We aren't here to debate him."
Cyril Roland nodded and finally drew the holy sword at his waist.
The Holy King's sword, stained with the Blood of Lathander—an artifact of the highest caliber in both historical significance and sheer power.
Cyril Roland raised the holy sword high and roared, "Lich, slander through such tricks is meaningless! Everything Ryan does is under the watch of the Lord of the Dawn! There is no need for an evil creature like you to pass judgment!"
Holy Light blazed brilliantly. Countless golden rays transformed into blades, flying toward the colossal skull in the sky.
Holy Light collided with dark magic, blasting the illusions to pieces and shattering the colossal smoky skull, blowing a massive hole right through the dark canopy.
The might of the holy sword was peerless.
The Ryan soldiers cheered in unison as the warship pressed forward, sworn to annihilate the lich.
The dark canopy slowly knitted back together, re-forming once more into the shape of the colossal skull, and Anbaixiu's voice drifted down from the sky again.
"Flustered into rage, are we? Without even asking where my evidence came from, you declare it false. Is this the justice of you Ryan people? Very well. You refuse to admit to the massacres, but you certainly cannot deny this next one."
Phantoms appeared in the sky once more, but this time they depicted the battlefield between the Githyanki and the people of Ryan—specifically, the scene where the colossal time dragon plummeted from the sky and crushed a great mass of Ryan soldiers in panicked confusion.
At the sight of this, the Ryan soldiers aboard the warship fell into an eerie silence.
Most of them had heard about the defeat in that war, but none had witnessed it with their own eyes. The content of the battle reports had been vague, saying only that the emperor's mistakes during his first time on the battlefield had led to defeat.
Cyril Roland had never imagined that the emperor had personally crushed a crowd of Ryan soldiers to death.
Anbaixiu's voice rang out once more: "Look, people of Ryan! The one who slaughtered the most humans wasn't the Githyanki, but your very own emperor! The Unholy Hymn was invaded without provocation by Ryan. To defend themselves, they had no choice but to summon the Githyanki and the red dragon legion, solely to protect their country. And after I sent the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn away, I personally resolved the Githyanki issue."
The phantoms in the sky shifted again, showing Anbaixiu using a meteor swarm to destroy the Githyanki army.
This time, even the ever-calm Lucas was struck dumb.
The might of those hundreds of meteors was terrifying. If all of them crashed down upon this vessel, none among them could block it.
They had come aggressively to demand accountability, yet this series of reversals left the Ryan forces completely bewildered.
So, who was truly the heinous one?
Anbaixiu never gave his opponents time to think calmly. He immediately tossed out a final question: "I could have used this meteor swarm against you, but unlike you Ryan people, I am reasonable. Cyril Roland, you are Ryan's Radiant General. Is your Holy Light truly as righteous as you believe?"
Cyril Roland tightened his grip on the holy sword and shouted up at the skull high in the heavens, "In this life, I have a clear conscience before the Holy Light!"
His sword had only ever cut down the undead and never slaughtered innocents, so Cyril Roland could hold his head high with an unburdened conscience.
Just then, a beam of Holy Light pierced the dark canopy, and a silver-white figure descended from the heavens.
Anbaixiu's laughter echoed across the sky once more as the lich declared in a mocking tone, "Cyril Roland, do you dare use the Holy Light to battle a paladin under my command? Let us see who truly represents justice!"
Chapter 402