"What? You want me to go fight a war?"
The moment Catherine, visible in the magic mirror, heard Anbaixiu's demand, she shook her head in refusal.
This lich was actually asking her to fight a naval war! In her entire life, Catherine hadn't seen the sea more times than she could count on one hand. Furthermore, after being baptized by prior warfare, Catherine knew full well she had zero talent for leading troops. Back when she had been studying, her tutors had merely pampered and indulged her, fooling Catherine into believing she was a qualified commander.
In truth, she was a complete novice; command more than a thousand troops, and she would descend into total fluster.
"There's no other way. You may be a rookie, but I haven't even crossed the threshold."
Anbaixiu felt just as helpless. If there were any other option, he wouldn't make Catherine the supreme commander.
Yet within the Elegy Poetry Society, absolutely no one could handle it. Even a powerhouse like Gareth had never studied commanding armies; in life, he had merely been a reckless brute who charged on command, which was precisely how he had been tricked and had his head lopped off.
Now that he didn't even have a head, leading an army was all the more out of the question.
As for the rest of the Society's luminaries—including Aige—not a single one had ever systematically studied how to lead troops.
Never mind directing an army, they probably couldn't even make sense of the terminology in an operational plan.
The only one with a shred of expertise was the Rose of Decay, whose education during life had covered some of these fundamentals. However, there was no chance the Rose of Decay could make the generals of three nations obey her, nor could she rein in such proud, unruly officers.
Catherine suddenly said to Anbaixiu, "Wait, isn't Arthur Ryan in your hands? Who is better suited to be supreme commander than this Holy King? During the war that overthrew the tyrant back then, Arthur Ryan was the most brilliant commander around. Not only is he exceptionally powerful himself, but he's also brilliant at leading armies in battle. Add his personal prestige to that..."
Anbaixiu shook his head. "Don't even think about it. Arthur won't help with this. If you asked him to overthrow tyranny, he would charge to the front lines without batting an eye. But this great war is a conflict between different races fighting over living space; Arthur has no interest in that sort of contest. Even if I forced him onto the field, the results wouldn't be very good.
"Besides, I don't want his identity completely exposed just yet. If he went disguised as someone else, it would take Arthur far too long to command obedience from that bunch of generals."
The Arthur Ryan card was indeed formidable, but the constraints on its use were immense. Until the critical moment arrived, Anbaixiu had no desire to squander it.
Seeing that no substitute could be found, Catherine could only reluctantly agree.
The moment Anbaixiu brought up the matter of the drow elf shipping route, Catherine had no way to refuse.
"I need to go cram right now," Catherine left behind before shutting down the communication and dashing off to read.
Anbaixiu wasn't worried. Catherine didn't need much competence; her greatest function was simply to sit there during meetings. When that crowd argued until they were at each other's throats, a single smile from Catherine could calm everyone down.
This move was invincible—something Anbaixiu knew from deep personal experience. Aside from chaotic evil demons, no one could resist it; even the undead would feel their hearts flutter if they looked for too long.
With that problem settled, Anbaixiu conferred with Aige. "Now, it's time to address our military strength. Exactly how many members are in the Silent Night Pirates? How many legends do you have?"
Though Anbaixiu had operated alongside the Silent Night Pirates before, he truly didn't know their exact numbers or troop disposition.
Trusting Anbaixiu implicitly, Aige naturally concealed nothing, stating frankly, "I'm not sure of the exact headcount, but we have twelve ghost ships in total. Most of them were recently converted and are relatively weak. The only ones with truly formidable combat power are three ghost ships: aside from my main vessel, there are only Phil's Iron Spear and Andiel's Parrot. Both of them are legends. You've met Phil, and Andiel's true form is a specter.
"Besides the ghost ships, the total number of undead aboard all vessels comes to fewer than three thousand. That number fluctuates, though—members perish at any moment, and new ones join just as often. They are mostly specters, zombies, and skeletons..."
Aige gave Anbaixiu a meticulous breakdown of the pirate crew's particulars. The more Anbaixiu listened, the more troublesome it felt.
Aige was a demigod with half a foot across the threshold of divinity, so her power was naturally nothing to worry about. Anbaixiu had met Phil; the fellow was great in a fight, but legends who loved charging on the front lines generally died the fastest.
He had also met Andiel once before. The fellow seemed to be a taciturn specter, standing at the opposite extreme from Phil.
High-end combat strength wasn't the issue. The real problem was that the lower-tier fodder were far too few.
What good were three thousand undead in hundreds of thousands of square kilometers of open sea?
This wasn't a game of pirates; guerrilla warfare wouldn't cut it. They needed to seize vast swaths of territory and firmly hold them.
With so few personnel, even if their opponents fled at the mere sight of them, Aige wouldn't be able to hold onto much territory at all.
Aige sighed helplessly. "I used to think we had too many hands, that a pirate crew didn't need so many members. I never imagined that one day I would have to conquer such a colossal expanse of ocean. Right now, we're short by dozens of times over."
Anbaixiu consoled her, "Don't worry, we have plenty of time. Besides, we're undead—why would we ever lack cannon fodder?"
"You plan to mass-produce undead troops? The expenditure would probably be enormous," Aige asked.
Summon Skeleton was a necromantic spell that every high-ranking undead understood. It seemed common enough, yet casting it was by no means effortless. Summoning three to five skeletons took only a snap of the fingers; thirty to fifty required some exertion; three to five hundred typically called for the assistance of a magic circle.
Five thousand, though? Fifty thousand?
Such numbers could usually only be accumulated over time; finishing in the short term was practically impossible. Magical power, after all, was finite.
Yet right now, they needed at least a hundred thousand ordinary undead just to be marginally qualified to launch a war. If they truly wished to conquer the Volcanic Sea, anything short of a million undead wasn't even worth considering.
This wasn't land. There were no natural choke points or sheer mountains, nor any such thing as an impassable route.
The ubiquitous seawater formed open pathways in every direction. Drawing a defensive line to halt an enemy as one could on land was impossible. The ocean possessed its own unique environment, demanding matching tactics, which meant their undead forces were nowhere near sufficient.
Yet Anbaixiu spoke with supreme confidence. "Of course I know the limitations of mass summoning undead, but it's not like we must summon that many ordinary skeletons. Senior Aige, I once published a paper describing various forms of aberrant skeletons, and the defining characteristic of these aberrant skeletons is how economical they are."
A trace of pride crept into Anbaixiu's tone. This was a magnum opus crafted from his blood and sweat. In this world, no undead knew better than he did how to cut costs on materials and conserve magical power.
Aige had never seen Anbaixiu's various "works," having only ever seen his silver-white mechanical armor. Assuming he meant alchemical golems, her heart twinged on his behalf—how much money would that cost?
Aige resolved that if she truly managed to become a deity, she would find a way to repay him no matter what.
"Alright, let's get busy. Senior Aige, your Silent Night Pirates are our most critical trump card. I suggest you integrate the crew thoroughly so that before the battle begins, you can confirm just how much power everyone can bring to bear. As for me, I'll have to take my leave for a while. Leave the matter of the cannon-fodder undead to me."
Having said that, Anbaixiu plunged straight into his private space.
Adjusting the flow of time so that one day outside equaled one year inside, Anbaixiu set to work.
Before mass-producing the undead, design blueprints had to be drawn up first.
Fortunately, before setting out to sea, Anbaixiu had already taken time to ponder this problem and had drafted several concepts.
Stacking a pile of parchment on the table, Anbaixiu began scrutinizing every single one of his designs.
Drawn upon these sheets were "undead" styled after various marine organisms—assorted bones pieced together to form shapes resembling fish, yet also mechanical monstrosities.
Because Anbaixiu possessed the means of Simulated Soul, he could modify the physical forms of undead at will, directly shaping matching souls with his bare hands.
Others couldn't manage that. Why were the vast majority of skeletons built with two arms and two legs? Because the souls of living people were tailored to such bodies. Attempting to radically redesign them wasn't impossible, but it demanded enormous costs in time.
Stroking his jaw, Anbaixiu muttered to himself, "Not only must the costs be low, but the time required must be minimal as well... In that case, they can only be specialized rather than all-around."
Anbaixiu singled out three blueprints from the pile, buried his head in his work, and gripped a quill to make continuous revisions.
When one worked with total focus, time always flew by.
Anbaixiu spent nearly three months inside his private space before finally finalizing the blueprints for three varieties of undead troops.
"Time to test them."
Anbaixiu summoned over a dozen Mage Hands to ferry various materials to him without pause. In just a short minute, a small fish carved from wood rested before him.
It looked like a crude children's toy, but its swishing tail revealed that this creation possessed a unique "vitality."
Anbaixiu tossed the wooden fish into a pool of water, then dropped in a live fish as well.
At first, the live fish and the wooden fish coexisted peacefully in the pool. Without a close look, one would at most think the wooden fish was merely an uglier specimen; there seemed to be nothing peculiar about it.
Yet the moment Anbaixiu snapped his fingers, the wooden fish turned its head and swam toward the live fish.
At first, its advance was slow, but as Anbaixiu issued another command, two turbulent currents of air surged along the wooden fish's body, propelling it forward at blinding speed.
With a dull thud, the wooden fish smashed straight through the live fish's body, its impact spiderwebbing the rim of the pool with broad fractures.
Anbaixiu hastily froze time, then scooped up the wooden fish for a thorough inspection.
Evidently, the wood had been unable to endure such a tremendous force of impact. More than half of it had shattered to pieces, exposing the delicate structures of magic circles nestled inside.
Chapter 427