When Anbaixiu saw Alan Watson, the once-high-spirited paladin was sitting slumped on the ground.
His longsword lay beside him, its blade covered with cracks and notches, clearly having endured an exceptionally brutal battle.
Alan's face was black and blue, looking as though he had suffered a savage beating, his formerly handsome features utterly unrecognizable. Yet his psychological trauma seemed many times worse than his physical injuries; the light had vanished from his eyes, making him look as if he had aged more than a decade.
Meanwhile, Headless Bro stood nearby, leisurely filing his fingernails.
Anbaixiu asked in surprise, "What did you do to him?"
Headless Bro shook his head and said somewhat disdainfully, "Just taught him a little lesson. Today's paladins are far worse than they used to be. Daring to venture out alone on a trial with this kind of skill—the Ryan Empire has truly fallen from grace."
Anbaixiu asked, puzzled, "Why does that sound like a personal grudge?"
Headless Bro said, "His father is the Ryan Empire's Supreme Arbiter. Tough luck for him."
"You have a grudge against James Watson too?"
Anbaixiu was somewhat surprised. Headless Bro didn't look like a scholar; surely he had never experienced having a manuscript rejected by that racist old man, had he?
"James Watson? Who's that? I'm talking about Moody. He was the one who signed my wanted poster back then."
Anbaixiu: "..."
This headless horseman certainly held a grudge. Who even knew how many generations back that former Supreme Arbiter had served, yet he took out the debt on Alan's head. One could only call it bad luck.
"Is bullying a kid really that fun?" Anbaixiu asked.
Before Headless Bro could explain, Alan spoke up first: "He didn't. Mr. Gareth kept his strength and speed equal to mine, yet I still had no power to fight back."
Anbaixiu consoled him, "That's completely normal. You have no idea how many years he has lived. It's hardly surprising that his martial skill surpasses mortals."
"Mortals..." Alan could only smile bitterly.
He was a paladin of the Ryan Empire who had undergone rigorous training since childhood. His swordsmanship was among the very best of the younger generation; even the imperial emperor had knighted him in person and praised him as a future pillar of the empire.
Yet facing this scruffy, middle-aged uncle, Alan had tasted the first crushing defeat of his life.
It had been truly agonizing. The man hadn't even drawn a sword, merely extending a single finger and defeating him with just a fingernail.
The swordsmanship Alan had once taken pride in was like child's play before this man. The moment his arm barely moved, the man's fingernail would already be poking at his throat, eyes, heart, or other vitals. After over a decade of painstaking training, his sword technique still harbored so many flaws he had never noticed.
What was worse, his opponent had toyed with him deliberately, slamming Alan face-first onto the ground every single time. His nose bridge had broken long ago, and his front teeth were slightly loose. The injuries were not particularly grave, but the psychological blow was catastrophic.
It was an utter, unmitigated defeat without an ounce of excuse.
Now, hearing Anbaixiu's evaluation, Alan felt even more humiliated.
So in the eyes of true powerhouses, he was nothing more than a mortal.
Once Anbaixiu confirmed Alan had no life-threatening issues, he couldn't be bothered to care about him any longer, pulling Headless Bro out of the dungeon cell.
Anbaixiu shared the seven prophecy fragments he had acquired with Headless Bro, hoping to inquire about information from him.
Headless Bro might not be an erudite scholar, but he had lived longer than Anbaixiu and certainly had broader experience; perhaps he could glean something.
However, the result greatly disappointed Anbaixiu. The man couldn't guess what was in the sewers either, but was instead intensely concerned about the ruined tavern.
Headless Bro said anxiously, "Brother Diga, will this prophecy definitely come true? Can it be changed?"
"Worried about your little orc sister?" Anbaixiu asked with a grin.
"Ona is innocent," Headless Bro said with a deep sense of responsibility.
Anbaixiu went silent for two seconds before saying, "If your wife heard those words, she'd fly into an even greater rage."
Still, seeing Headless Bro's anxious look, Anbaixiu did his best to offer advice.
"Whether a prophecy can be changed isn't something I can state definitively. I'm just a coward who dares not face fate myself. But you can face the future in a different way. The prophecy only showed the tavern reduced to rubble, but it didn't show the orc proprietress's corpse. Whether she can survive remains an unknown.
"A large part of the City of Alchemy is bound to be destroyed in the near future. Why not persuade her to leave early? As long as she stays alive, a destroyed tavern can always be rebuilt, can't it?"
Hearing this, Headless Bro immediately brightened up.
"Brother, you really do have good ideas! I'll go talk to her right now and persuade her to leave the City of Alchemy."
With that, Headless Bro was about to set off to find his orc maiden, but Anbaixiu called him back.
"Wait. Pass a message to the proprietress for me. If she wants to sell the tavern, I can take it off her hands—provided the price comes with a good discount."
Headless Bro said, puzzled, "Didn't you just say this tavern is destined to be destroyed? Taking it over means taking a guaranteed loss, doesn't it?"
Anbaixiu retorted, "What else? Do you have any money on you? If you don't, how do you expect that orc girl to survive after giving up her tavern? Do you think she's like the undead and doesn't need to eat or drink? If I buy out the tavern, won't she have the money to start fresh somewhere else?"
Headless Bro was moved beyond words. He gave Anbaixiu a tight bear hug and said, "Good brother, I won't forget this kindness! Rest assured, no matter who plucks off your head, I, Gareth, will be the first to avenge you!"
"Couldn't you protect me before my head gets plucked off?"
"You said it yourself—whatever you see in a prophecy will come to pass."
Anbaixiu: "..."
Those words made Anbaixiu's soul fire quiver with rage. Truly, prophecies were the most annoying things in this world, especially prophecies of misfortune.
After Headless Bro left, Anbaixiu began preparing to receive the arrival of the big shot from the Alchemists' Council.
He did not have to wait long before an enormous airship touched down before Anbaixiu's castle.
A stern-faced, middle-aged man stepped down from the airship. He wore a gold-and-red robe, seemingly of the same style as the administrator seen previously, only with far more ornate patterns.
Anbaixiu shifted into his human appearance and smiled to welcome him.
Anbaixiu greeted him warmly, "My dear Fring, long time no see. The last time we met seemed to be over a decade ago."
Gustavo Fring, Sixth Seat of the Alchemists' Council, a legendary alchemist whose publications circulated across the continent could fill Anbaixiu's library. He was a truly prominent figure.
For the City of Alchemy to dispatch him showed that they placed great importance on Alan Watson as well.
Gustavo Fring showed not the slightest change of expression upon seeing Anbaixiu, speaking in the most straightforward manner: "I know you very well, old friend. Name your price directly. This paladin is very useful to us."
Anbaixiu said delightedly, "You're my favorite person in the council—I just love this straight-to-the-point style of yours. Twenty million gold coins, and I'll hand him over to you."
Chapter 50