Events surged across the continent. The Ryan Emperor had harnessed the power of time to revive twenty thousand people who had been doomed to die, sending the Ryanites' confidence skyrocketing to unprecedented heights.
They organized several counteroffensives. While they could not completely reclaim their cities, they managed to secure handsome victories in the end. Ryan sacrificed one legendary paladin in exchange for two orc legends.
Under normal circumstances, Ange Watson was loath to resort to tactics where one sacrificed eight hundred troops to take down a thousand of the enemy, but the present situation was different, forcing his hand into taking such a gamble.
Though the fighting was brutal, it ultimately forced the orcs to abandon their plan to cross the river on the offensive.
Both sides lapsed once more into a war of attrition. However, with the Emerald River restricting mobility on both sides, the orcs temporarily lost the advantage of their miraculous maneuvers of constantly splitting and converging.
Well-equipped and high in morale, the Ryanites naturally regained the upper hand, though they remained temporarily powerless to recover their lost territory. Aside from devoting all his efforts to setting up defensive lines, Ange Watson began striving to investigate every scrap of intelligence regarding the orcs.
He needed to find the key figure controlling the entire orc army.
Defeating this adversary on the battlefield was exceptionally difficult, but the battlefield was not confined to the front lines.
Ange Watson had even submitted a memorial to the Emperor, hoping an exception could be made to request that lich's assistance.
For the orcs to mobilize all their forces in an instant, there was another prerequisite: they could easily monitor all movements across the battlefield.
How had they managed it?
Quite simply: order a few airships that lacked combat capability and served purely for reconnaissance, then station orc spotters aboard them.
Barring foul weather, nothing on the battlefield could escape their eyes.
Even if the Ryanites knew those tiny black specks were the orcs' reconnaissance craft, they had no way of dealing with them.
It wasn't that they couldn't fly; they simply couldn't catch up.
The thirty to forty kilometers per hour offered by Fly couldn't even chase down the airships' shadows.
Having undergone multiple simulated battles within the Synesthesia Dreamscape, Ange Watson was well aware of how terrifying the war machines created by that lich were.
Even though they had tried their hardest to imitate them, the technological disparity in alchemy was simply too vast.
Take the miniature jet engines they had quietly purchased at exorbitant prices—in the entire vast Ryan Empire, not a single person could replicate them. It wasn't that they couldn't produce one at all, but the defect rate was far too high; no one could guarantee whether issues would arise during flight.
Once an accident happened with such a contraption, death was the inevitable outcome.
Many Ryanites did not fear death, but their lives could not be thrown away so recklessly.
In Ange Watson's view, they only needed to purchase the jet engines and could completely bypass any undead troop types.
The lich used undead to crew his warships, but Ryan could use living men, so long as basic safety was maintained. Ange Watson already understood these weapons; he could personally train an aerial unit dedicated to countering the orcs.
However, the lich's identity was far too sensitive, and the Emperor was currently forced to recuperate. Under such circumstances, would the empire approve the petition?
Yet if they didn't turn to this lich, their only alternative was the dwarves. How could the dwarves possibly sell these jet engines to Ryan? They wished for nothing more than for the Ryanites to keep losing, so they could march out and take their vengeance.
What Ange Watson did not know was that even if the Ryan Empire agreed to collaborate with Anbaixiu, he wouldn't be able to locate the lich anytime soon.
***
At that moment, Anbaixiu had just stepped out of the undersea labyrinth. Having passed beyond the inner and outer vortexes and the endless lightning, he had officially entered the interior of the Sea of Thunder.
At the exit of the labyrinth lay a heavily corroded flight of stairs. The two climbed up these steps, which were nearly worn smooth into a slope, all the way above the sea's surface.
Directly ahead stood a colossal archway assembled from stone. There was no telling how many ages it had stood there, yet it bore scarcely any signs of damage.
The air was thick with the scent of ozone, prompting Ariel to cover her nose.
Though the smell was pungent, breathing posed no real issue.
Anbaixiu was naturally unaffected, but his attention was captured by the massive stone arch before him, for something in his memory suggested he had seen this material somewhere before.
Anbaixiu strode up to the archway and ran a hand over its rough, grayish-black surface. He tried scratching a bit off with his fingers to inspect it, only to find the material astonishingly hard—he couldn't even leave a scratch.
Ariel walked over to his side in curiosity and asked, "Master, have you discovered something?"
Anbaixiu pondered for a moment before saying, "I've seen this material elsewhere. It's constructed from corpses that underwent specialized treatment."
The material of this archway was remarkably similar to what Anbaixiu had seen in the ancient civilization beneath the desert.
Both were crafted through specialized preservation of carcasses from some unknown creatures. Even Catherine's arrows had only left a faint mark on it, which spoke volumes of its resilience.
Anbaixiu had never expected to encounter it here.
Did that mean the ancient Arena of the Storm was actually constructed by that lost civilization beneath the desert?
Anbaixiu had a faint suspicion: in ancient times, the race of giants were followers of Talos who built grand cities and this Arena of the Storm for Him. Yet for some unknown reason, the race perished.
Perhaps an unusual epidemic led to their extinction, or perhaps they encountered an even more formidable race and were annihilated. Of course, a far greater likelihood was that they offended Talos and were wiped out as divine punishment.
Later, the place they inhabited was submerged by the sea, and after another span of time, the sea turned into a desert, burying the civilization deep underground.
For deities, such things were hardly impossible.
Why on earth had Talos sent him here?
Was it purely a passing whim, wanting to watch a duel among mortals?
The thoughts of deities were always inscrutable, especially an unreasonable god like Talos. But that didn't matter; Anbaixiu only wanted to harvest those ancient heroic spirits. *Since this Arena of the Storm is connected to the giant civilization, the heroic spirits should take the form of giants as well.*
Heroic spirits of giants were magnificent treasures—especially souls that had lingered for so many years without dissipating. How resilient must they be? With just a bit of processing, they could become top-tier undead with the potential to reach the legendary rank.
If he could reap several thousand such heroic spirits, he could assemble the most formidable undead army in the world. They could charge across the battlefield bathed in Holy Light; Ryan's paladin legions wouldn't mean a damn thing and would be trampled to dust the moment they dared step outside their city walls.
Still, a few thousand was wishful thinking on his part. Two thousand would do—he could accept that number.
After some thought, Anbaixiu opened his pocket dimension and invited out Arthur Ryan, who had been idling away with nothing to do.
Arthur Ryan still wore the full suit of magitech armor, with the artifact hourglass seated at its core; the entire suit served as an extension of the artifact, granting him free movement.
It seemed Arthur Ryan had grown accustomed to holing up in one spot. Normally, he only chatted with the Old Elven King via the magic mirror to catch up on current news and possessed no other hobbies.
Having been summoned out today, Arthur Ryan asked in confusion, "Do you need me to help deal with paladins again?"
Given a choice, Arthur Ryan truly didn't want to fight his juniors. It felt like an adult bullying little children. The worst part was that the other side never held back, making it exceedingly troublesome whenever Arthur Ryan wished to show mercy.
Anbaixiu shook his head and explained the current situation.
"Arthur, it's about time you stretched your limbs too. I want to subjugate these giant heroic spirits, and it would be best if you lend a hand. Who knows, once I subjugate them, they might even keep you company."
Upon hearing that it wasn't about fighting his juniors, Arthur Ryan immediately grew interested.
He wasn't genuinely a shut-in; he simply felt a pervasive unfamiliarity with this modern world. Now that there was a cohort of giant heroic spirits even more ancient than he was? Then he would do his part to shine like a youngster—he wanted to stretch his limbs as well.
"However, I expended quite a lot last time," Arthur Ryan said with a hint of embarrassment.
The trouble with heroic spirits was that every action completely depleted their own power, which was exceptionally difficult to replenish.
Ever since that major battle, Anbaixiu had yet to recharge him.
"Rest assured. Not even an emperor sends starving soldiers into battle; I understand that principle well enough."
Anbaixiu hauled out a vast pile of skeletal remains and materials collected during his recent campaigns on the seabed, converting them all into fragments of Simulated Souls so Arthur Ryan could feast to his heart's content.
These materials could have fetched a handsome sum of coin, but right now Anbaixiu couldn't afford to worry about waste.
Not only were there giant heroic spirits here, but there were also thousands of Githyanki. Anbaixiu had just depleted the power of the Golden Throne and happened to be at his weakest.
Having only Ariel by his side provided no guarantee of safety whatsoever, so bringing out Arthur Ryan, his strongest asset, was a matter of course.
Ariel had quietly watched Anbaixiu's actions, initially assuming Arthur was merely the name of the armor, but as she listened, she began sensing that something was amiss.
Ariel couldn't help asking Anbaixiu, "This is a paladin? A Ryan paladin captured by you?"
Anbaixiu shook his head. "I wouldn't dare call him a captive. This is Arthur Ryan—the heroic spirit of the legendary Holy King himself!"
"Which Holy King?" Ariel froze at first, then her pretty eyes widened in utter shock. "Arthur Ryan? *That* Arthur Ryan? The... the..."
This was the first time Anbaixiu had ever seen Ariel stammer, repeating "the" over and over without finishing the sentence.
It was hardly surprising. Even though the Raging Tide Kingdom and the Ryan Empire were mortal enemies, and even though her people had been driven off the continent by the Ryanites, that did nothing to diminish their reverence for Arthur Ryan.
Slaying the Demonic Dragon Tyrant and liberating the entire world was a monumental feat grand enough to make Arthur Ryan an idol to everyone.
Moreover, when Arthur Ryan died, the humans of the Raging Tide Kingdom still lived on the continent, before the religious conflict had even begun; this hatred had nothing to do with the Holy King.
Arthur Ryan felt thoroughly embarrassed; this was precisely why he hated going outside.
In his memories, he was merely a guardian who had stolen the Demonic Dragon's artifact; the glorious feats of subsequently slaying the Demonic Dragon and founding the empire had nothing to do with him.
Yet now, practically anyone he met revered him to the utmost, leaving him feeling as though he had stolen someone else's glory. What made him even more helpless was that the matter was far too complicated to easily explain.
Arthur Ryan could only shoot a pleading look at Anbaixiu. Used to such situations, Anbaixiu cleared up the origin of this Holy King's heroic spirit for Ariel in just a few words. However, halfway through, Arthur Ryan chimed in without thinking: "Indeed. I never expected that as soon as my seal was undone, I would get rammed by a ghost ship."
Hearing that, Ariel immediately furrowed her brows in thought.
Moments later, she gasped in astonishment, "Rammed by a ghost ship? Were you sealed away in the Raging Tide Kingdom?"
Arthur Ryan replied, "Yes, though when I was sealed, it was still a deserted island with no human habitation."
Anbaixiu dearly wished he could slap a hand over Arthur Ryan's mouth. Why did this man talk so much? Had all those video chats with the Old Elven King still not worn out his jaw?!
Back when Anbaixiu posed as Mengge Grayriver, he had found the sealed magical hourglass in the Raging Tide Kingdom. Anbaixiu had bluffed the kingdom's people into falling back ten kilometers, then joined forces with Aige to suppress Arthur Ryan's heroic spirit.
In Ariel's eyes, however, things had seemed entirely different. She had been misled by Anbaixiu into believing that an artifact possessing immense counter-measures against the undead was sealed in the Raging Tide Kingdom, which was why the captain of the Silent Night Pirates had personally come ashore to claim it. And precisely because Mengge Grayriver had aided this formidable undead, the pirate captain had agreed to cooperate with the Raging Tide Kingdom.
Now Ariel had pieced it together. Excitedly, she said, "So that great battle back then was fought between the captain of the Silent Night Pirates and you! I've always regretted not taking part in it in person... Wait. If the captain of the Silent Night Pirates took the Holy King's heroic spirit..."
Ariel turned her head, looked toward Anbaixiu, and asked, "Master Ultraman, why did the heroic spirit of His Majesty the Holy King end up in your hands?"
Chapter 464