"Is the moonlight too lovely on your end, keeping a sun-shunning lich like you awake? Do you have any idea what hour of the night it is over here?" Aldarian grumbled sourly.
Even though Aldarian had only just awoken, it did not detract in the slightest from his noble bearing; elves simply seemed born that way. To put it somewhat crudely, even the sight of an elf picking his nose would appear far more elegant and beautiful than any ordinary race.
Reclining against his bed in disheveled sleepwear, Aldarian looked like a portrait that could fetch an exorbitant price among noble ladies.
Yet neither Anbaixiu nor Aige felt the slightest stir. Both were undead, after all.
Anbaixiu cut straight to the chase. "I deliberately waited until late at night to wake you, precisely so you wouldn't get a good night's sleep. Understand?"
Fury flashed across Aldarian's face, but he quickly reined it in. "Very well, you succeeded," he said to Anbaixiu. "In that case, I'll shut this thing off and go back to sleep."
"As if it were that simple," Anbaixiu retorted. "Let me ask you: I asked your elven people to draft a battle plan, and what kind of rubbish did you send me? Is this miserable scrap really the standard of the elven race?"
Aldarian smiled. "What can we do? Elves aren't suited to undersea warfare. We could only rely on our imaginations, so naturally there are errors and oversights. I'd advise against following that plan—it's best if you improvise according to the situation yourself."
"What a pity, then," Anbaixiu said with profound regret. "In that case, your elven race has lost out big time."
Aldarian's brows furrowed. "I know taking your bait is like drinking a cup of poisoned wine, but I'll ask anyway: what do you mean by that?"
"Literally what I said," Anbaixiu replied smugly. "If you don't help, your people will miss out on an extraordinary opportunity."
"What opportunity?" Aldarian pressed.
"A cost-free opportunity to practice commanding a massive campaign. Aldarian, you probably don't know, but I didn't just ask the elves for help—I sought out military experts from other kingdoms as well, including the Ryan Empire. My original plan was to weigh the strengths and weaknesses of your proposals and let the most brilliant commanders take the reins.
"We're talking about a chaotic brawl involving hundreds of thousands of troops. How many years would your elves have to wait to stumble upon a chance like this again? What's more, you don't have to send a single soldier. Zero risk, zero losses. All you have to do is direct the battle remotely via magic mirror. And what do you stand to gain? Not just command experience—you'll see firsthand how oceanic races fight, and you'll even get to observe how the Ryanites lead their troops..."
Anbaixiu's words struck home. Aldarian looked at him in surprise. "You'd dare let us command it?"
"That depends on who has the skill. This is a war across an entire kingdom, over hundreds of thousands of square kilometers of sea, riddled with countless bizarre undersea topographies. Do you think a single person could oversee all that? I need a vast corps of professional commanders. I supply the army; you supply the command.
"Are you really going to pass up a chance to make me bleed money?"
Aldarian's frown deepened. Without the magic mirror, Anbaixiu's words would be pure deceit; the elves would never dispatch personnel into the ocean depths to command troops for him.
With the magic mirror, however, everything changed. The elves could truly sit in the comfort of their homes and direct the war from afar, completely free of risk.
More importantly, if Ryan was participating as well, the elves genuinely ought to see what they were capable of.
By now, the elven leadership understood full well that an increasingly radicalized Ryan was the true threat. Unless Ryan collapsed from within, a war between the Silvermoon High Court and Ryan was inevitable. Given the long lifespans of elves, even a century's delay would still make it a war fought by the current generation.
Gaining insight beforehand was the best preparation.
If they could glean even a shred of Ryanite military intelligence from this conflict, it would be pure profit for the elven race.
Yet Aldarian was suspicious. Would this lich truly be so benevolent?
The moment greed took root, one was guaranteed to lose before this lich. Deciding to trust his instincts, Aldarian refused. "The Silvermoon High Court has closed its borders and cannot assist you in war. This is a matter of state policy—do not overthink it."
Anbaixiu was somewhat surprised. This kid could show such restraint?
According to Anbaixiu's calculations, an ambitious Elven King like Aldarian should have leaped at the offer, willing to throw money at it just to take part. Yet the fellow had actually held back.
Anbaixiu sighed, sounding thoroughly helpless. "Since you refuse to listen to reason, I have no choice. Do you know that this sea is a crucial sector along the drow elf shipping route? Even if we lose, it won't matter much to me—I'll just have Catherine lead the drow elves and force a passage through. I'm sure that with the Elven Queen escorting them, my shipping lanes will stay safe. Even if millions of sea-dwellers lay siege, she should handle it just fine."
Upon hearing this, Aldarian nearly jumped out of bed, seething with rage. "How dare you use Sister Catherine to threaten me?!"
Anbaixiu chuckled. "What are you talking about? It was your Elven Gods who placed Catherine in charge of the drow elves—what does that have to do with me? I merely provided a method to convert the drow toward lawful alignment. Aldarian, I'll tell you the plain truth: I am taking this sea. If you won't help, I'll have Catherine help instead. Think it over yourself."
Aldarian clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wanted nothing more than to punch this shameless lich right in the face, yet he could only grit his teeth and endure it.
Now was not the time to sever ties with the lich. The Elven Gods indeed had a deal with him, and until that transaction was complete, Anbaixiu held the elves by the throat. For Catherine's safety, no matter how unwilling Aldarian was, he had no choice but to yield.
Aldarian calmed down quickly. As the Elven King, every move he made had to account for the broader picture, and he soon reached a decision. "Fine. Wait here. I'll have them draft another plan and send it to you."
Anbaixiu beamed. "Now that's more like it! We can work together splendidly. Everything I said came straight from the heart. Where else would your elves find an opportunity to direct a battle between hundreds of thousands? You haven't fought a war in ages, and look what happened—mana addiction broke out among your people. Aren't you going to correct that? Besides, this time you'll have the chance to order me to charge into battle. Don't let that opportunity go to waste."
Those parting words made Aldarian grit his teeth. "Rest assured, I certainly won't disappoint your expectations."
Unable to stomach another second, Aldarian abruptly cut off the magic mirror's connection.
Aige remarked admiringly, "You're incredible. Now all three kingdoms will do their utmost to draft campaign plans for you, and they'll even provide high-ranking generals to command remotely."
"It's still not enough," Anbaixiu said. "Later, I'll pull them all into a massive group chat and let them debate face-to-face. Unholy Hymn, Ryan, the Silvermoon High Court, along with us and the merfolk—everyone can communicate directly. The tieflings despise Ryan and are bound to pick apart every single detail. The elves of the Silvermoon High Court refuse to lose face in front of outsiders, so the three nations will inevitably clash.
"They'll tear into each other's plans, exposing every hidden trap we never would have thought of. With the merfolk serving as technical advisors on top of that, the resulting tactics will come as close to perfection as humanly possible."
Aige imagined these people hurling insults at one another from thousands of kilometers away—or even across planar boundaries—and felt a faint sense of anticipation. Such a spectacle was truly once in a millennium.
However, Aige soon asked, "Then what are we still lacking?"
"I'd say we're missing at least two crucial things," Anbaixiu replied. "The first, of course, is regular troops. Even if we've hoodwinked a grand assembly of high-ranking generals into commanding, where are the grunts for them to lead? Count every soul in the Silent Night Pirates, and you barely have a handful of foot soldiers—far from enough to sustain an entire campaign."
"Troops... that part isn't hard."
Anbaixiu nodded. "Indeed. We are undead, after all."
Undead were masters of wave tactics. Creating vast hordes of low-tier undead on short notice was simple enough, provided there were sufficient materials.
If all else failed, they could borrow some from the Rose of Decay.
That was a concern for later, though. Undead from the Underdark might not be suited to naval combat anyway, so it was better for Anbaixiu to handle it himself.
"Besides base troops, we also need a commander of sufficient stature. The Ryanites, the tieflings, the elves—all three races are proud and arrogant, incapable of smooth cooperation. War changes in the blink of an eye, and no operation goes entirely to plan, meaning disagreements will inevitably arise.
"I don't fancy spending days on end listening to them bicker when the time comes. We need a marshal who can unify everyone at critical moments and ensure our tactics are executed."
Aige looked troubled upon hearing this. "Could such a person even exist?"
The tieflings and Ryan harbored blood debts against each other, and the elves' pride was known to all. How could anyone possibly hold all their heads down and force them to agree?
Unless...
Aige turned her gaze toward Anbaixiu and could not help saying, "It seems only you could do it."
Anbaixiu had just demonstrated as much: the leadership of three nations had been forced to bow their heads to him. It was not through brute force, but because Anbaixiu had seized everyone by their vulnerabilities, bending them to his will.
With such skill, when the war began, Anbaixiu would surely be able to overawe them all, ensuring orders were followed to the letter and preventing internal strife before the fighting even started.
Yet Anbaixiu shook his head. "Making them obey isn't hard, but if they start arguing and I can't tell which proposal is actually sound, I won't be able to issue orders even if I can browbeat them into submission."
That was Anbaixiu's greatest weakness. He had never been a soldier in his life. Back when he was an adventurer, the most people he had ever commanded was ten, and only for an adventure lasting an hour or two. He had no military talent and had never studied warfare, making him thoroughly unqualified for the role of marshal.
"Then who should we find?" Aige asked, puzzled.
Anbaixiu pondered. "They don't need peerless military genius—just someone better than me, an insider with formal military fundamentals, who also possesses the authority to command everyone's respect..."
In Anbaixiu's mind, that peerless, breathtaking face surfaced.
Could there possibly be a candidate more suitable than Catherine?
Chapter 426