Anbaixiu gave a start at his own deduction.
Please, not a shift like this right now. He had just laid the groundwork for a wonderful situation and was waiting to count his money until his bones grew spurs! If the Lord of the Dawn had another showdown with the draconic deities, everything would descend into utter chaos and spin completely out of control.
Right now, Anbaixiu couldn't even pick a side to place his bets on. His very nature made him an inherent enemy of the Lord of the Dawn, and as for the draconic gods... considering what he had just pulled off overseas, the fact that they hadn't squashed him to death was only thanks to Ao's strict laws.
The Rose of Decay was equally startled by Anbaixiu's speculation. If the Lord of the Dawn could truly intervene, would there still be any hope of destroying Ryan?
Both were troubled, but Anbaixiu reacted quicker, comforting the Rose of Decay, "On second thought, maybe I'm overthinking it. Once the wager concludes, something monumental will undoubtedly take place, but for now, things don't appear that dire."
The Rose of Decay was not so optimistic. Visibly anxious, she said, "Yet it's only a matter of time. Even if the Demonic Dragon Tyrant hasn't won yet, he isn't far from victory."
Anbaixiu's tone turned solemn. "You're right. In that case, I might as well take this opportunity to confirm it in person—just how far the Demonic Dragon Tyrant has progressed in his resurrection."
Recalling Anbaixiu's grasp of souls, the Rose of Decay asked, "You can tell through a magic mirror?"
"No, which is why I need to speak with him face-to-face."
What the magic mirror transmitted was, after all, only an image. Anbaixiu's perception could discern differences in color, but not soul fluctuations.
If he met him face-to-face, Anbaixiu was confident he could sense any soul anomalies in the other party.
"That's too dangerous! If the Demonic Dragon is truly reviving, you might not even be able to return to your phylactery to reform."
The power of time was so terrifying; the Demonic Dragon Tyrant back then must have possessed the ability to truly kill liches, or the undead would never have been included among those enslaved by the dragon race.
No one knew what kind of power the Demonic Dragon possessed today, and Anbaixiu was running an immense risk.
"Don't worry, I won't die so easily now. Leaving aside my own capabilities, before this meeting takes place, I will inform everyone—including the deities."
Anbaixiu certainly wasn't foolish enough to meet the Ryan Emperor alone. Who knew if Ryan had methods to bypass a phylactery's protection?
Not only would he bring along an entourage with great fanfare, but he would also notify all the deities.
The God of Alchemy would definitely protect him; Talos couldn't bear to let Anbaixiu die right now; and the two hell lords, waiting on Anbaixiu's advance payment to start their bank, couldn't bear to let him die either.
With so many deities watching, no matter how formidable the Demonic Dragon Tyrant was, he would have to weigh the consequences.
Owe someone tens of thousands, and you could be hacked to death at any moment; owe the state millions, and you'll be thrown straight into prison; owe deities endless amusement and hundreds of millions in soul coins, and they'll ensure you stay alive.
Such was nature—whether for mortals or deities, it was all the same.
The Rose of Decay said resolutely, "Then I will go with you."
"Ah? Lady Rose, I can only guarantee my own safety; I might not be able to protect you."
Anbaixiu was worried she wouldn't be able to keep her emotions in check. When an undead went mad, reason ceased to exist.
"If you can take risks for my sake, how could I let you go alone? Worst comes to worst, we call Canggu and Gareth. With the Elegy Poetry Society gathered once more, we won't need to fear the Ryanites making a move."
The Rose of Decay was resolute. Under no circumstances would she let Anbaixiu go by himself this time.
Anbaixiu had no choice. The Rose of Decay was no ordinary girl; she was an Undead Queen commanding an entire kingdom. Once she set her mind to something, no one could stop her.
"In that case, let's make it a grand spectacle. I'll try inviting everyone. Unless Ryan wants to spark a world war, they definitely won't dare act recklessly."
"Everyone?" the Rose of Decay asked. "Do you mean the elves?"
"Not just the elves, but druids, dwarves, the Raging Tide Kingdom, and representatives from the overseas dragon race and the undersea races. If we want to test Ryan's true strength, we must strike with a heavy hammer, or it won't ring loud enough."
If only the undead met with Ryan, the chances of someone flipping the table over a single disagreement were high. Win or lose, casualties would be inevitable.
Even if the Elegy Poetry Society dealt a devastating blow to Ryan, a few of them would probably have to fall.
Anbaixiu couldn't bear to lose any of his friends in the Elegy Poetry Society. Even with Heji Stone, Anbaixiu still wanted to keep wringing labor out of him!
To keep the table from being flipped, the simplest way was to make it bigger. Once the table had enough weight, not even Talos could flip it.
The Rose of Decay asked doubtfully, "What pretext will you use to assemble these people? Relying solely on the name of the Ryan Emperor won't be enough."
Ryan had offended too many factions lately. Anbaixiu had to find a justification everyone could accept before the other kingdoms would even consider sending envoys.
"I haven't thought of one yet, but that's not a big problem. We can stall for time."
"How will you stall? The Ryanites are desperate for your weapons, and this war won't drag on for long."
"Quite simple: weaken the orcs. I'll invent some random excuse to recall the airships on the orcs' side. Without eyes in the sky, the orcs won't dare cross the Emerald River to attack. They haven't reached the point of a decisive battle yet anyway."
This was the power of the world's premier arms dealer—able to dictate the course of a war at will. Still, the orcs would certainly be furious, so Anbaixiu had to figure out how to compensate them. At the very least, he had to give them a way to save face; he couldn't rely on his monopoly to alienate a customer entirely.
"Sigh, what a headache. I need to go back and give the logistics some proper thought. As for the Elegy Poetry Society, I'll have to trouble you to rally them, Lady Rose."
Before he knew it, he had blown things up into a massive ordeal, and his to-do list had grown even longer.
***
While Anbaixiu was fretting over his plans, matters in Ryan were hardly any better.
When Ange Watson reported the lich's demand for an audience with the emperor, the young emperor felt a sharp headache coming on. Oh, he could no longer be called the young emperor; he was Ryan's last true ruler—Artross.
It was just that this name could not be made known to others for now.
Artross leaned back against the throne, his long hair concealing his right eye, which had turned into a draconic pupil, making him appear no different from normal.
The urgent confidential letter in his hand furrowed his brow; he had not expected the lich to demand a face-to-face meeting.
To be honest, Artross didn't want to meet him.
Not because he feared the lich would be mad enough to assassinate the Ryan Emperor, but because this lich was extraordinarily bizarre.
What kind of lich could become friends with a paladin? Even back when all the races had united in rebellion, the undead were regarded with intense suspicion; only Arthur Ryan had truly placed his trust in them.
Ryan had educated and civilized the populace for one thousand seven hundred years, yet under such upbringing, Alan had still befriended an undead.
Not just Alan—Artross knew that many others in this kingdom cooperated with this undead as well.
And outside Ryan, the lich had even more partners.
Back then, Arthur Ryan had united the races through universal benevolence and justice. Today, this lich was uniting the races through shared profit. The methods differed, but the result was the same.
Artross did not dare underestimate this lich in the slightest, treating him with the same caution one would accord Arthur Ryan.
Meeting someone like this invited far too many complications. If his identity were uncovered, the trouble would be immense; Artross could not afford to make an enemy of the entire world right now.
Yet could he simply refuse to meet?
Giving up on the trade meant Ryan would lose the opportunity to modernize its weaponry.
The weapons forged by this lich were epoch-making creations. Without them, it would be like humans fighting dragons with their bare hands; without divine favor, they couldn't possibly win.
If the dragons back then had faced such weaponry, they would probably have fallen even faster.
Though Artross originated from the Demonic Dragon, he was not the true Demonic Dragon Tyrant. Death was equal to all living beings; the Demonic Dragon was dead, and Artross was at best half a descendant and inheritor.
Born into this era, he had to adapt to it.
The dragon race had declined, and the power of a time dragon was not invincible. He had to obtain those weapons.
Whether through reverse-engineering or purchase, he had to get his hands on them.
"Is meeting this lich truly my only option? How can I keep him from growing suspicious? Must I play the fool?"
The young emperor's past behavior was known to all; perhaps acting foolish could brush him off.
"If it's just communicating across the magic mirror, it shouldn't be too big a problem. Let me recall how that idiot usually behaved..."
As he recalled the past, Artross suddenly scowled. A surge of intense agony washed over him, causing his hand to crush the armrest of the throne.
"Liar! Give me back my body!"
"I'll kill you! A thousand cuts!"
...
Shrill, agonized wails rang out within Artross's soul, making his distress even worse.
This was the lingering resentment of the young emperor. Even though his soul had been assimilated and merged by Artross, leaving behind only scattered soul fragments, those fragments were like crushed glass—the hardest things to smooth away.
Artross had to endure the torment of shattered glass lodged within his soul just to think. And every time he recalled anything connected to the young emperor, the agonizing pain intensified.
All Artross could do whenever the agony hit was fast-forward time a bit, shortening the duration of the suffering he had to bear.
At this moment, he racked his brain with a deep frown, seeking a way to deal with the lich.
"I hear this lich is exceedingly greedy for gold. Could I simply bribe him with money?"
Ryan's imperial treasury was still fairly well-stocked. Producing funds was simple enough. If he threw tens of millions of gold coins at him, could he turn the lich into his own tool?
As he was considering this, an attendant walked in trembling and reported to Artross, "Your Majesty, Alan Watson has arrived once again."
Artross's frown deepened. "What does he want this time?"
"Reporting to Your Majesty, it is the same request as before. Alan Watson requests to go to the battlefield and face the orcs alongside his elder brother."
This was not the first time Alan Watson had applied to go to the front lines, but Artross had consistently refused.
Alan's status was far too special, completely different from Ange Watson's. If Alan went to the battlefield and continued racking up military merits, his prominence would completely overshadow the emperor's.
Alan knew his elder brother's temper: if he ran off to the front without authorization, Ange Watson wouldn't just bar him from combat—he would execute Alan on the spot.
No one was permitted to violate military regulations, not even his own younger brother.
Thus, Alan could only submit request after request.
Artross broke into a smile and ordered, "Tell Alan that I have another critical mission for him, of no less importance than going to the battlefield. For Ryan's sake, he must see it done!"
Chapter 475