In the end, both sides walked away from the negotiation having achieved their goals.
Urbano Pacheco had laid everything bare, freeing himself from any worry that an influential figure like Anbaixiu might target him, while also securing a promise from Anbaixiu that could potentially turn the tide of the war.
Anbaixiu had reaped an abundant harvest as well. The secrets of the kuo-toa were now in his hands, giving him clues on how to deal with that lunatic goddess, while also dragging the orcs into the fray to serve as bait to lure out the Demonic Dragon Tyrant.
As for whether the Ryan Emperor would actually agree to a duel, that hardly mattered.
Anbaixiu only needed to keep using the peace talks as a pretext to convene a grand assembly, dangling Arthur Ryan to entice the emperor into attending, and then engineer an opportunity at the assembly for the Orc King to provoke Ryan.
Whether they fought a formal duel or not was irrelevant. As long as blows were exchanged, Anbaixiu's objective would be met.
Things had gone so smoothly that it almost felt like an arrangement orchestrated by the Goddess of Fate herself.
"Mustn't get careless. Mustn't get careless. Mustn't get careless..."
Matters of importance had to be repeated at least three times. Anbaixiu knew that good fortune rarely arrived in unbroken streaks. Even when it did, it was usually just setting up a pit for him to fall into later.
That was a priceless life lesson he had pieced together after centuries of knocking around the world.
Leaving the orc territory via a teleportation array, Anbaixiu returned to Gold Coin Island. He inspected the construction of this transit hub and found that everything was progressing without a hitch.
After several expansions, this little island had evolved into a fully qualified slaughterhouse... No, wait, a dragon biological material harvesting center.
To prevent the dark magic of the undead from corrupting these materials, all the laborers Anbaixiu employed on Gold Coin Island were mercury soul puppets—an exceedingly costly race.
After an extended period of nurturing within his private demiplane, the intellect of the first batch of mercury soul puppets had approached that of ordinary humans. Simple alchemical procedures could safely be entrusted to them.
The only catch was that these little fellows didn't eat normal food; they consumed metal. Anbaixiu had no choice but to supply them with vast quantities of metal ore.
All things considered, they were more expensive than hired labor. Yet on an isolated offshore island, mercury soul puppets offered absolute loyalty. Hiring living workers meant managing their emotional volatility, not to mention worrying about theft or mutiny.
On the whole, though pricier, mercury soul puppets were far more dependable.
The first batch of dragons arriving for their "pedicures" had already landed. Mercury soul puppets bustled about in a flurry of sparks, using an assortment of tools to trim the massive dragon claws.
In the initial stages, the harvested materials mainly consisted of dragon claws, shed scales, hair, and droppings, all strictly gathered under the principle of "no pain." Where there was no pain, there was little resistance. Every dragon that came in for a pedicure received a modest reward—be it glittering luxury trinkets or mainland delicacies.
These dragons had been starved of wealth for far too long. Many of them had never even seen a pig, cow, or sheep since birth. Tasting beef for the first time, some had been moved to literal tears.
*Ah, the taste of the ancestral homeland carried down through inherited memory.*
Or something to that effect.
Consequently, the dragons were generally quite cooperative.
After all, it was just trimming claws. They were fed their fill here anyway; what good were overgrown claws?
Massive amounts of dragon scales and claw clippings were severed, sorted, and cataloged.
As Anbaixiu's eldest apprentice, Isabel had been reassigned from the Dwarf Kingdom to Gold Coin Island specifically to oversee the initial processing of the materials.
Once the preliminary work was finished, the materials would be shipped to the Raging Tide Kingdom for the next phase.
That was where the true heavy lifting began: crushing, slicing, and fine-machining these extraordinarily tough materials. It didn't demand high-end alchemy, but it required immense physical labor.
Hence, it called for a large workforce of low-end laborers for deep processing—a textbook labor-intensive operation.
Once that stage was complete, the remaining materials would be dispatched either to Anbaixiu's private underground alchemy workshops or to the Dwarf Kingdom for final refinement.
A single dragon scale half a meter in diameter cost roughly three hundred gold coins from the moment it came off a dragon to its finished state.
Yet the end product could fetch a staggering price of at least two to three thousand gold coins.
Countless alchemical formulas circulating across the continent relied on dragon materials, and virtually every high-tier magic artifact required components harvested from dragons.
A tenfold profit—the sheer power of a monopoly.
And this was with Anbaixiu willingly sharing the profits with the Raging Tide Kingdom and the Alchemists' Council. If he had chosen to be even slightly more ruthless, he could have driven production costs below one hundred gold coins.
Still, business was all about mutual benefit.
Anbaixiu couldn't squeeze them too hard. Sustainable profits were real profits; a one-off deal would never build an empire.
After confirming that operations were running smoothly, Anbaixiu slipped into his private demiplane and adjusted the time dilation to one year inside for every day outside.
Then, pulling the relevant intelligence on the kuo-toa from the depths of his soul, he began his research.
Much like dragons, mind flayers possessed inherited memories from birth. In fact, mind flayers could pass down far more memories, given that they were a race centered entirely on psionic power.
The volume of memories Anbaixiu had obtained was immense, spanning from the moment the Mind Flayer Empire first enslaved the kuo-toa to the empire's eventual collapse.
The kuo-toa had never broken free of the mind flayers through their own strength. It was solely because the sprawling empire had collapsed from within; torn apart by internal strife and the rebellion of the Githyanki, the mind flayers had simply had no attention to spare for the kuo-toa.
As a result, for a long time following the empire's downfall, the kuo-toa had continued to revere the mind flayers as their masters, waiting for their eventual return.
Throughout that agonizing period, the mental torment inflicted upon the kuo-toa by the mind flayers never stopped.
Mind flayers were never known for mercy; their cruelty and malice were infamous across the planes. When enslaving their thralls, they often laid a unique psychic curse that ceaselessly tormented the slaves' minds. Only thralls that earned a mind flayer's approval were granted temporary relief from the punishment.
This curse served as a perpetual lash, driving the slaves to actively please their mind flayer overlords, much like breaking in a hound.
Yet when the Mind Flayer Empire fell and the kuo-toa lost their masters, there was no one left to relieve them of their torment. It was easy to imagine just how wretched life had been for the kuo-toa during that era.
No matter how fervently they prayed, no matter how desperately they begged for the mind flayers' mercy as they once had, they received no answer.
In the end, those who couldn't endure perished, and those who survived went utterly insane.
The kuo-toa ceased to have a single sane individual among them; only those whose minds were thoroughly mangled by the curse endured.
From that point forward, the kuo-toa's madness became an inherited affliction.
It seemed profoundly cruel, but Anbaixiu wasn't here to tally the crimes of the mind flayers. What interested him was this psychic curse.
The psychic curse hadn't vanished; it had simply shifted from agonizing pain into madness.
Put simply, early kuo-toa possessed the reasoning of normal beings. They understood basic bodily functions and had a sense of direction.
If they underperformed, the curse would scour their souls, plunging them into agony. Today, the curse remained, but in adapting to coexist with it, the kuo-toa's perception of pain had warped entirely.
Pain was no longer pain; it might feel like ecstasy. Joy was no longer joy; it might bring weeping despair.
They wept when they wished to laugh; they felt itching all over when they were hungry.
It was this extreme chaos born of a twisted soul that rendered the kuo-toa's faith far more potent than that of other races. Any kuo-toa capable of surviving such a perverse curse possessed extraordinarily resilient mental fortitude.
Having grasped the essence of the kuo-toa's chaotic state, Anbaixiu gradually sorted through his thoughts.
The mind flayers had originally employed two methods to reward and punish the kuo-toa.
The first was direct psionic power. A mind flayer could project their intent to bestow feelings of pleasure upon a kuo-toa, temporarily pausing the curse's torment. Anbaixiu couldn't replicate this; it was a racial trait.
The second method utilized a special implement: a bone whistle. By stimulating the kuo-toa's psyche with different pitches, it achieved the same result.
Anbaixiu figured the whistles were likely intended for juvenile mind flayers within the empire whose psionic power was insufficient to command others directly. The question now was: would the kuo-toa, mired in madness, still be susceptible to the whistle?
Finding the answer was simple enough. Anbaixiu crafted a bone whistle with utmost speed. Once the principles were understood, making one was trivial; even an apprentice alchemist could fashion one.
He then ventured into the deep ocean and captured several kuo-toa.
Given their vast numbers, finding them took little effort. The kuo-toa Anbaixiu brought back all possessed that vacant, goggle-eyed gaze, marking them unmistakably as purebloods.
After securing them, Anbaixiu blew into the whistle according to the instructions in the records.
An elusive, drifting melody sounded—the tune used to soothe the kuo-toa and grant them relief from pain.
Historically, only kuo-toa who performed their duties admirably and earned praise were permitted to enjoy it.
As the whistle's notes reached their ears, the dull-witted creatures froze. Their bulging eyes locked onto Anbaixiu.
A moment later, one of the kuo-toa let out a furious roar at him: "You damned brain-eating mongrels! You've finally returned! I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"
The other kuo-toa unleashed the same enraged shrieks, struggling wildly against their bonds.
Anbaixiu lowered the bone whistle in surprise. Had this whistle actually restored normal cognitive thought to these idiotic fishmen?
Yet the moment the whistle ceased, the kuo-toa's eyes drifted back into vacancy. Their rage evaporated, replaced once more by their earlier gormless stares.
The whistle's notes did indeed affect the kuo-toa, but the results had shifted.
"Fascinating!"
This time, Anbaixiu separated the kuo-toa one by one and systematically tested the whistle's various tunes.
The soothing melody restored their normal cognitive faculties, but their inherited memories instilled them with bone-deep hatred for the mind flayers. The tune originally meant for torture produced unpredictable results, abruptly triggering intense, single emotions—sometimes manic excitement, sometimes inconsolable grief.
Finally came the tune designed to dispel the curse.
The first two kuo-toa fell quiet upon hearing this melody. While they exhibited no extreme outbursts, they showed no other notable changes either.
Anbaixiu examined their souls directly and uncovered an intriguing phenomenon.
With the psychic curse lifted, the corrupting chaos was indeed slowly ebbing away. However, their minds, having endured prolonged madness, were like scattered sand, unable to find an anchor to support themselves.
To put it simply: they had been utter lunatics, but once the illness subsided, they fell into depression—severe, debilitating depression.
Their souls turned to cold ashes. Devoid of madness, they had also lost the capacity to think.
"Do they need time to recover? Or can they never recover?"
Anbaixiu stroked his chin. It was hard to say for sure, but either way, it wasn't good. This wasn't the result he was looking for.
The experiments went on. After reducing four kuo-toa to severe depression, the fifth kuo-toa finally showed a different reaction.
Upon hearing the tune, the kuo-toa before Anbaixiu shook off its chaos and regained its sanity. It fell to the ground, weeping bitterly. Just as Anbaixiu began to think this tune was equally ineffective, the fishman scrambled back to his feet, opened his mouth, and said to Anbaixiu, "Thank you... Thank you, Great Master Ultraman!"
Anbaixiu asked, "You know who I am?"
The kuo-toa declared loudly, "I do! You are the attendant of the Master of the Silent Night Sea, the beacon beside the great deity, the torch leading us toward freedom!"
Anbaixiu was left speechless.
There still seemed to be something loose in this kuo-toa's head.
When had he become Aige's attendant? And how did this fishman even know about his connection to Aige? Anbaixiu pondered for a moment before asking, "Did you once convert your faith?"
The kuo-toa replied with passion, "Yes! I once worshipped a false deity, and it brought only chaos and agony. Until that night, when I felt the goddess's divine will! Her voice brought a moment of peace to my chaotic soul. I will follow the goddess to the ends of the sea and across every corner of the world!"
Anbaixiu sighed in understanding. "Of course. You're one of the kuo-toa who provided faith to Aige. In the end, Blibdoolpoolp dropped a stone on her own foot."
Back then, the Kuo-toa Goddess had attempted to use an overwhelming surge of faith to corrupt Aige's true form, forcing her to ascend to godhood before she was prepared. Aige's ultimate countermeasure had been to absorb those worshippers directly: *If you wish to worship me, then accept my doctrine.*
Aige's divine decree had been branded into the souls of these kuo-toa. Anbaixiu was in luck; the kuo-toa he had captured happened to be one of those who had received that will of freedom.
Even if it was only for a fleeting instant, the concept of freedom had stamped itself into their chaotic minds, setting these particular kuo-toa apart.
Other kuo-toa fell into severe depression once their madness was stripped away because their prior lives had held zero worth; upon regaining reason, they had no idea what they ought to do.
Yet every kuo-toa who had received Aige's divine decree was different. They had experienced the will of freedom, which acted as an anchor, allowing their scattered spirits to coalesce. It granted them the capacity to think again, giving them a reason to live.
Naturally, this also turned them into fanatical worshippers of Aige—the sort who would choose death before abandoning their faith.
No wonder Blibdoolpoolp had severed the transmission of faith so abruptly back then. Had she hesitated a moment longer, every single one of those kuo-toa would have converted directly to Aige.
It wasn't surprising in the least. What sane person would choose to worship a lunatic like Blibdoolpoolp?
Anbaixiu asked, "What is your name?"
The kuo-toa thought for a moment, then replied, "Forgive me, but the kuo-toa lost the ability to name ourselves long ago. I have lived without such a thing my entire life. However, if Master Ultraman is willing to bestow a new name upon me, I will be eternally grateful."
Anbaixiu didn't name him right away. Instead, he handed over the bone whistle and asked, "This whistle requires magic to blow. Give it a try."
The kuo-toa stared at the bone whistle in astonishment.
With his restored intellect, he understood all too well the significance of this instrument. It was a divine artifact capable of liberating the kuo-toa!
The fishman's hands trembled violently as he cradled the bone whistle. "Master... c-can I truly have this?"
Anbaixiu said placidly, "If you can use it, it's yours."
Trembling, the kuo-toa brought the whistle to his thick lips and attempted to blow.
A faint trace of magic gathered within it, and the whistle emitted a low, dull note.
It sounded. The pitch was slightly off, but it was enough.
Anbaixiu patted the kuo-toa on the shoulder and said, "From this day forth, I bestow upon you a new name: Benbo'erba. Benbo'erba, your mission is to take the bone whistle I have given you and liberate more of your kind, freeing them from the clutches of that lunatic goddess so they may become true followers of the God of Freedom."
Anbaixiu fixed his gaze on the kuo-toa. "Can you do it?"
The newly named kuo-toa rose to his feet with fervor, tears streaming down his face. "I will achieve it even if it costs me my life! Praise be to you, benevolent Master! Praise be to the God of Freedom! My people have suffered countless eras of torment, and at last, freedom is at hand!"
A surge of pure power of faith flowed into Anbaixiu's body, born of this kuo-toa's prayer.
This time, the energy carried none of the twisted taint of madness; it was the purest, most precious form of divine energy.
Anbaixiu taught the kuo-toa the correct method for using the bone whistle, then said, "Go, Benbo'erba. Go and liberate your people. You shall become the hero of the kuo-toa! Your name shall be remembered for all time, and you shall enter the divine realm of the God of Freedom to enjoy eternal life!"
Benbo'erba prostrated himself before Anbaixiu, bowing devoutly again and again until Anbaixiu finally shooed him away, sending him back into the sea.
He knew where the kuo-toa gathered. He would find a way to liberate more of his brethren.
Having dispatched this kuo-toa, Anbaixiu used the exact same method to restore the sanity of another.
As the second kuo-toa broke down in tears, Anbaixiu produced a second bone whistle and declared, "From this day forth, your name shall be Babo'erben. Go forth and become the hero who liberates your kin!"
Harboring grand ideals, this second hero leaped into the sea to seek out his brethren.
Looking at the bag full of bone whistles in his hands, Anbaixiu mused that he might not even need the help of other deities after all. That Kuo-toa Goddess was as good as dead!
Chapter 482