"I will lock you away and make sure no one can kill you!"
Rose of Decay's words left Anbaixiu stunned. Could that even work?
Yet Anbaixiu still had no choice but to refuse.
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. The future I foresaw is hardly dignified, and I don't want anyone to witness it."
Still unwilling to give up, Rose of Decay pressed on, "Then tell me, who killed you? I will deal with the culprit for you right now."
Melina stood up agitatedly as well and said to Anbaixiu, "She's right, Father! Together, we can try to take down even a deity!"
They simply refused to believe him.
Anbaixiu could only offer a faint smile and say, "Alright, since you insist, I'll make an effort. I will analyze what I foresaw, and once I've thoroughly studied all the details of the prophecy, I'll ask for your help."
Hearing Anbaixiu say this, Rose of Decay finally breathed a sigh of relief. Her only fear was that Anbaixiu had given up on himself. As long as he maintained confidence, his wisdom would surely resolve anything.
After repeatedly urging Anbaixiu to stay in touch, Rose of Decay reluctantly took Melina back to the Underdark.
Yet just as Anbaixiu sent the two through the teleportation array and the light faded, a middle-aged man with a decadent air appeared.
Dressed in the attire of a bard, he plucked the strings of a lute.
Just as Anbaixiu was about to speak, the man began to sing:
"Oh, my dearest friend, you are about to depart from me, leaving me here alone to strum a tune that no one will hear..."
With lyrics so crude they reeked of uncultured bluntness and chords that made one wince, it was undoubtedly the Poet.
Anbaixiu waited awkwardly for the Poet to finish this farewell song, then clapped with profound insincerity.
The Poet gave a polite bow, crushed the lute into a cluster of dark shadows, and then said to Anbaixiu, "Your life is almost over, and you still don't dare speak the truth? To your ears, this song must have sounded awful."
Anbaixiu said sheepishly, "It seems my acting isn't very good."
The Poet wiped away his teasing expression and patted Anbaixiu's shoulder. "You're a lich—you don't even have skin on your face. Where would you get expressions or acting? But even if you acted brilliantly, it wouldn't change anything. I know full well my music sounds terrible to your kind. My soul is structured differently from yours. The music I love is nothing but noise to others."
This made Anbaixiu feel even more awkward. Earlier, he had lavishly praised the Poet's "musical taste," only to find the man had known the truth all along.
The Poet had no intention of embarrassing Anbaixiu further, merely saying to him, "I heard everything just now. You were lying to Rose and your daughter. You've already given up, haven't you?"
Anbaixiu said helplessly, "Outsiders cannot comprehend the power of fate. My death has become inevitable, and stalling will only make things worse. After reclaiming the power of fate, I was actually prepared for this, though death has come sooner than I imagined."
"You still have one chance of rebirth left on you," the Poet reminded him.
The last time he received a blessing from the Poet's music, Anbaixiu had obtained three opportunities for rebirth. He had used one to scheme against Lolth, a second to trick Shar, and the effect of the final rebirth still lingered.
Yet Anbaixiu smiled and said, "Then it seems that you, Senior Poet, do not understand the meaning of fate either. Giving me ten thousand chances of rebirth wouldn't make a difference."
The Poet was surprised by Anbaixiu's equanimity. This was completely unlike his usual behavior in the chat group.
"I'm very curious what kind of future you saw."
Anbaixiu sighed emotionally. "It was far too humiliating. I really don't want to describe the scene."
"Even knowing you will die in such a humiliating state, you accept it?"
"It isn't a matter of whether I accept it or not, but that it is an inescapable reality. Still, you can rest assured that I won't end my life haphazardly.
"My senior brother spent his entire life wanting nothing more than to restore his family's glory, and the moment he foresaw his death, he chose to sacrifice himself to save the entire kingdom. Selwyn hid from fate his whole life, yet he never truly gave up fighting it, leaving the final hope to me at his very last moment. I am a divination wizard too; I can't let myself be outdone by them."
"Fair enough. I am indeed no believer in fate; after all, when I was born, the fate of this world was nothing more than a mass of primordial chaos. Take this. Shar asked me to pass it to you. I didn't think there was any rush, but I never expected you to suddenly... Perhaps this can bring you a glimmer of hope."
"Something Shar gave me?"
Puzzled, Anbaixiu took a clump of pitch-black smoke from the Poet's hand. Sensing it slightly, a look of shock appeared on his face.
"This is the entirety of the Shadow Weave's knowledge? How could Shar possibly hand this over to me?"
Anbaixiu knew its value all too well; calling it equivalent to a divine portfolio wouldn't be an exaggeration. Shar had spent the better part of her existence trying to usurp the Goddess of Magic's place, and this was the culmination of her research—yet she just gave it away like this?
Once Anbaixiu mastered the knowledge within, it would be equivalent to the Goddess of Magic learning it as well, and Shar would never have a chance again.
"Wait, the spell recorded here is... Karsus's Avatar!" Anbaixiu's hands trembled. This spell was simply too famous. Legend held that it could turn someone into a god in an instant, far more formidable than Wish, because Karsus's Avatar aimed to usurp the position of the Goddess of Magic. What was even more absurd was that the last person who cast this spell had actually succeeded.
Although it lasted only an instant, Karsus had genuinely usurped the Goddess of Magic's place and become master of the Weave—and then he was obliterated along with the Weave itself.
Afterward, the spell was forbidden by the second Goddess of Magic, becoming a spell that must never be cast.
Puzzled, Anbaixiu said, "Does Shar want me to cast this spell to help her get rid of the Goddess of Magic? Has she gone mad? How could I possibly do such a thing?"
The Poet chuckled and replied, "Originally, I thought it impossible too, but now perhaps not. Aren't you on the verge of death? What death could be more memorable than blowing up the Goddess of Magic? Could this be the arrangement of fate?"
Stowing the cluster of dark energy away, Anbaixiu fell into deep thought over the Poet's suggestion.
Not that he actually wanted to blow up the Goddess of Magic. Setting aside whether it was even possible, he bore no grudge against her; why provoke such a mighty goddess?
Yet the appearance of Karsus's Avatar gave Anbaixiu a strange feeling, because in the future he had glimpsed, he seemed to have died atop this very spell's magic circle.
Originally, Anbaixiu hadn't recognized which magic circle was inscribed in that hazy vision. But after roughly browsing the contents of Karsus's Avatar just now, he felt the two magic circles bore a striking resemblance.
*I certainly wouldn't court death by casting this spell myself, so why on earth did I end up there?*
While Anbaixiu pondered, the Poet couldn't help asking, "What are your plans next?"
"Plans?"
"You're about to die. Do you really intend to do nothing at all?" the Poet asked in bewilderment.
Earlier, the lich had claimed he wouldn't end his life haphazardly, and the deaths of the previous two divination wizards had left an indelible mark on history. Surely this lich ought to follow their example.
Would he take the time to record all his life's knowledge and pass it down?
Or perhaps use World Weaving to leave behind a world wonder like the Golden Desert?
Or maybe he would abandon everything he currently possessed, change his way of living, and genuinely make a sacrifice for world peace?
The Poet was full of anticipation; he urgently wanted to witness Anbaixiu's transformation.
Because he genuinely liked this lich before him. Even if the lich didn't understand music in the slightest, he was the most interesting "friend" the Poet had encountered in recent years.
In the past, when boasting of heroes, people always said things like "a mortal vessel rivaling the gods." But applying that phrase to Anbaixiu wasn't quite right; it should be "a mortal vessel duping the gods."
As long as he was alive, the world remained thoroughly entertaining.
The Poet sorely wanted to remind Anbaixiu that as long as he could transcend his own desires, the President would let him take over the divine portfolio of the God of Death.
If this lich became the God of Death, the world would surely become vastly more amusing.
And as long as he accepted the portfolio of the God of Death, the so-called fate of death could no longer take hold of him.
How could the God of Death die?
By governing the concept of death, one would simultaneously possess countless avatars situated at every stage of death, or rise completely above the concept itself, entirely unaffected by it.
Each incarnation of the God of Death had a different understanding of death, but they all equally possessed true immortality.
Yet the Poet also knew President Jergal's standards well: the moment he spoke up to give a hint, Anbaixiu would lose his chance to compete. "Jergal's old-fashioned temperament always insists on these roundabout ways. I really don't know what's so fun about being a riddler."
For now, the Poet could only hope that Anbaixiu would figure it out on his own.
Death was already staring him in the face; it was time for this lich to have his epiphany.
*Come on, transcend your desires, transcend your greedy nature, and contemplate a more meaningful life. You will gain so much more, and you can completely avert this death.*
"How many days do you have left? What do you plan to do?" the Poet pressed.
"I plan to speed up the construction of the alchemy factory, quickly consolidate funds, and then pull capital from my other businesses to turn a massive profit. As for this World Peace Conference, that needs to be accelerated too. I'll get those kings over as soon as possible, seal the partnerships quickly, and make a massive fortune..."
Anbaixiu rattled off a whole list, leaving the Poet dumbfounded.
"Wait, hold on a second! I wasn't asking how you're handling your business! I was asking about your life! Your existence is about to come to an end—what should you be doing right now?!"
Anbaixiu said calmly, "I should make a massive fortune."
The Poet: "..."
This lich... his mind was completely filled with making money. He was utterly hopeless.
Chapter 500