Floating without his feet touching the ground, Anbaixiu made a circuit around his territory and found everything completely in order.
The humans who had come to seek refuge had already built their homes, and land reclamation had begun bearing fruit. With the aid of magical potions, the first harvest was only a few days away, and it promised to be a bumper crop.
The humans calculated the grain they would need to hand over, realizing life was truly far better than before. As they looked out at the ripening wheat, much of the unease in their hearts faded away.
After the last battle, the Porcupine Knight and the other lords had suffered heavy losses. No longer daring to harbor designs against Anbaixiu, they turned their sights on their peers instead. Three lords had fallen on the battlefield back then; after returning, the Porcupine Knight and his cohort had hatched some scheme and were now rapidly carving up the deceased lords' lands.
Anbaixiu did not know what pretext the Porcupine Knight was using, nor whether he could recoup his losses. He only knew that in recent days, another large wave of freemen had fled their homes and headed straight for the domain of this lich.
By now, the territory's population had surpassed three hundred—a respectable number.
The sudden influx of people did not cause Anbaixiu any headache, because Raul had grown into a competent administrator.
Anbaixiu felt a trace of emotion; hardships truly forged a person best. Once an illiterate peasant fleeing blindly into his lands, Raul now carried the faint bearing of a human magistrate, keeping several hundred people in impeccable order.
The territory's development was well on track, requiring no worry at all from Anbaixiu.
As for the three captives, they gave Anbaixiu no grief either.
Harvey read quietly inside his cell, treating it so much like home that Anbaixiu was considering charging him rent. Alan and his cleric companion maintained their daily routine of prayers and prisoner workouts, living with remarkable discipline. After all, a paladin was a man of his word; having promised to remain an obedient captive, he pulled no petty tricks on Anbaixiu.
On this point, Anbaixiu held genuine admiration; people who did what they said were few and far between.
Next, Anbaixiu visited Isabel's laboratory, finding that the young girl's alchemy skills had improved noticeably once more. Many higher-difficulty potions could now be entrusted to her preparation. Highly satisfied, Anbaixiu rewarded her with an enchanted ring.
This was a piece of equipment stripped from the cleric of light, though unfortunately it had a racial restriction and could only be used by humans. Giving it to Isabel was a perfect fit; it had an innate Cure Wounds spell that could be used once a day to heal external trauma and treat common illnesses. Since Isabel was assisting her brother in managing the freemen, a healing spell was far more useful than offensive magic.
After finishing his inspection of the territory, Anbaixiu took out his phylactery and maintained it thoroughly.
Then, to his surprise, he realized he had actually run out of things to do.
In the past, he had rushed about breathlessly every single day, with endless experiments to perform and never enough gold coins. But after finalizing the business deal with the Rose of Decay, her first payment had already been transferred, and Anbaixiu's vault was finally brimming.
Yet the second stage of culturing the living mercury could not begin yet. That required vast quantities of metallic ore, and Anbaixiu had to wait until the Rose of Decay initiated her maneuvers before he could buy up bankrupt mines.
This left Anbaixiu suddenly with idle hands.
For a lich, that was no good thing.
Lacking the constraints of flesh, he was also devoid of worldly desires. Anbaixiu had to find something to occupy himself with; otherwise, he would feel a boredom and emptiness a hundred times worse than that of mortals.
"Perhaps I could count my gold coins again?"
Anbaixiu thought about it and decided that was foolish.
No matter how many times he counted gold coins, they wouldn't multiply. As a rational lich, he should enjoy the process of making money, and enjoy the money itself.
After pondering for a moment, Anbaixiu decided to go find Headless Bro for a drink.
After all, the fellow had given him hundreds of thousands of gold coins as a greeting gift. As the local host, he could hardly leave Headless Bro to entertain himself outside every day; he ought to show some hospitality.
Casting Polymorph upon himself, Anbaixiu departed the castle and flew toward the City of Alchemy.
Having not visited for some time, Anbaixiu faintly sensed that the City of Alchemy had grown even more desolate. More shops had closed down than before, pedestrians were scarcer, and their expressions were far graver. Occasionally, he could spot people standing by the roadside holding up signs looking for work, with messages like their families having no food left, or needing to support elderly parents and young children.
"This situation feels wrong. Have those alchemists still not reached an agreement with the Silvermoon High Court?" In Anbaixiu's expectations, no matter how mad the City of Alchemy went, it couldn't sustain such insane price levels indefinitely. This was international trade between states; sometimes it wasn't purely an economic matter, but a competition of national power. The City of Alchemy couldn't simply watch its economy collapse and do nothing. The mechanical golem legions they spent so much money maintaining year-round—if they didn't use them now, were they waiting until they lacked maintenance funds to sell them for scrap metal?
Marching the golem legions straight toward the Silvermoon High Court, exerting military pressure to force them to the negotiating table—surely that was the proper move? Why had there been no word of such developments at all?
"The Alchemists' Council is usually crazy, but they aren't fools. I really don't get it."
Full of doubts, Anbaixiu arrived once more at Southern Cross Street, where adventurers gathered, and made his way to the Slag Ember tavern.
The moment he stepped through the door, Anbaixiu spotted the Headless Bro he was looking for.
Disguised as a human adventurer, Headless Bro was in the middle of a drinking contest with a two-meter-tall orc. Large mugs of flaming liquor were being poured down their throats. The orc grimaced and bared his teeth at the scalding heat, yet stubbornly kept gulping it down. Headless Bro had a far easier time; without batting an eye, he emptied the head-sized mug, not spilling a single drop.
After one mug, the orc was already swaying on his feet, but Headless Bro had already picked up a second and downed it in one go. Amid the shouts of the onlookers, the orc raised his second mug, but collapsed halfway through. Flames flowed with the liquor across his body, setting him ablaze as he wailed in agony.
The surrounding crowd watched in high excitement, howling and cheering for Headless Bro.
Anbaixiu watched speechlessly. You're an undead challenging people to a drinking contest—isn't that just bullying?
Headless Bro grinned like a child, slammed the mug hard onto the table, and roared, "I won! Drinks are on me today!"
"Hooray!"
"Praise you, my friend!"
"Gareth! Gareth!"
...
While all the patrons chanted Headless Bro's name, Anbaixiu picked a quiet corner and said to the familiar orc bartender, "A mug of ale, please."
"Master Ultraman, haven't seen you in a while! Please wait a moment, it'll be right up."
The orc bartender was as elegant as ever, his pouring motion so refined it hardly seemed like that of an orc.
"What's going on over there?" Anbaixiu pointed toward Headless Bro, who was surrounded by the crowd.
The orc bartender glanced at Headless Bro and sighed with admiration. "You mean Gareth? That fellow's quite an interesting character. It's been years since I last saw a guest with such high tolerance and such a generous spirit."
"No, I mean the treating everyone part. Winning a contest and then paying for everyone's drinks is a first for me," Anbaixiu remarked enviously.
"Why else would I call him generous? Well, though strictly speaking, our boss is the one footing the bill." The orc bartender gestured with his eyes.
The boss?
Following the orc bartender's gaze, Anbaixiu looked toward another corner of the tavern.
Sitting there was a female orc with fiery red skin, built as robustly as a male lion. Yet the gaze she cast toward Headless Bro could only be described as meltingly flirtatious.
Wait... was Headless Bro being kept by this female orc? Could Headless Bro's legendary boon be a charm technique that guaranteed being supported by wealthy women with absolute certainty?
In a daze, Anbaixiu seemed to envision the tragic scene of a bone dragon unleashing a breath attack and reducing the tavern to ashes.
Chapter 43