Ao was a whimsical Overgod. Aside from those deities who had existed since ancient times, many gods had never even heard any oracle from him; they had simply been unlucky enough to get slapped into mortals whenever Ao was in a bad mood.
At other times, Ao would be in such high spirits that he would fish a soul that had long since perished out from the river of time and bestow upon it divine power.
In most instances, it was because that mortal's death had been sufficiently spectacular and worthy of relish.
Yet Ao almost never took action against mortals who were still alive. No one knew why; they could only guess it was a personal quirk of this Overgod.
After all, Ao had established the rules. He held absolute authority of interpretation, along with the right to alter them at any moment.
Anbaixiu's death had been legendary enough, and the lich had accomplished countless deeds surpassing mortal limits. Being deified by Ao after death would have been a perfectly natural outcome.
The God of Alchemy surely did not want his student to be consecrated as a deity of the same domain, which would splinter his own divine portfolio, so he wished for him to sink into Hell forever.
As long as a mortal had not completely perished, Ao would not intervene.
"In the devils' eyes, this is an imperfect yet highly persuasive reason. This student of mine truly prepared for everything. It's just a pity fate wasn't on his side."
The God of Alchemy lay within his divine realm, pouring out his grievances to Waukeen, the Goddess of Wealth.
"Since when does a teacher clean up messes for his student day in and day out? Shouldn't a teacher ruthlessly exploit a student, work him like a slave, and claim all the academic achievements as his own?"
Dressed like an aristocratic lady, Waukeen chuckled. "Haven't you already claimed the academic achievements? That's how your portfolio as the God of Alchemy came to be."
The God of Alchemy sighed helplessly. "True enough. Having taken the benefits in advance, it's time to pay the debt now. I just didn't expect the trouble this kid stirs up to keep growing bigger and bigger."
On the eve of the battle at the Arena of the Storm, Anbaixiu had held a very long conversation with the God of Alchemy.
Fate was sealed and could not be defied; Anbaixiu knew he was doomed to die in that humiliating fashion. But every divination wizard claimed with their mouth to accept fate, yet every single one of them had to pull something off before the end.
Mister Misfortune had done so, Selwyn had done so, and Anbaixiu was no exception.
"Though I don't know what things will be like after I die, I'll probably plunge into Hell, and I imagine my soul will be torn to shreds, or even perish outright. If not, my friends could easily resurrect me. If it completely perishes, then you won't need to do anything, Teacher. But if even a sliver of opportunity remains, I hope you can do one thing for me, Teacher."
Back then, Anbaixiu had pleaded with such earnest solemnity that the God of Alchemy had found no reason to refuse.
He had merely never anticipated how insane everything Anbaixiu did next would be.
The God of Alchemy had watched as Anbaixiu extracted a massive cluster of radiance from his own soul.
The agony of soul-rending was enough to drive even the undead to suicide, yet Anbaixiu had forcefully endured it. He had sliced away a portion of his soul and handed it over to the God of Alchemy with utmost gravity.
"Teacher, that hammer of yours should be able to turn this into an alchemical item, right?!" Anbaixiu had asked, trembling.
Only then had the God of Alchemy realized that what Anbaixiu had gouged from his soul were all the memories tied to his legendary boons.
Simulated Soul, Golden Throne, and his Destiny Weaving—three legendary boons in total.
The God of Alchemy did not know how much resolve Anbaixiu had summoned; he only knew Anbaixiu had truly been on the verge of death. Legendary boons could be understood as comprehension of the world's laws, akin to minor divine authorities intimately bound to the soul. Mortals could not simply dismantle such powers—just as when Anbaixiu had acquired Lolth's avatar, it had required the God of Alchemy's intervention to separate the divine portfolio within.
What Anbaixiu was doing then was tantamount to dismembering himself in advance, forcibly tearing his soul to ribbons.
The pain was merely secondary; tearing it apart like that would inflict catastrophic damage upon the soul. Had he not been sustained by the power of another legendary ranger boon, Anbaixiu would have died on the spot.
The God of Alchemy could not comprehend what Anbaixiu intended, yet he still followed Anbaixiu's instructions, using his divine power to forge those three legendary boons into an alchemical item.
That crystal hammer was the manifestation of the rules of alchemy, an ability the God of Alchemy had grasped after growing stronger. When the hammer came down, it could analyze the principles of any magical force and transmute any spell through the art of alchemy—in short, deconstruction and reconstruction.
The power of the three legendary boons was dismantled by the God of Alchemy's hammer and reforged together, finally becoming a massive alchemical furnace.
This was the final path of survival Anbaixiu had left for himself.
Perishing completely and waiting for Ao to grant rebirth?
Ha. A lifetime of revering no gods, only to beg for Ao's mercy after dying? Anbaixiu could never bring himself to indulge in such double standards, nor was he willing to pin his hopes on the mercy of any deity.
Revere no gods in peace, beg no gods in peril—that had always been Anbaixiu's guiding principle in life.
When it came down to it, divination wizards did not believe in destiny. They always thought they could overturn fate, or carve out a glimmer of survival beneath its looming shadow. It was practically an occupational tradition.
The God of Alchemy followed Anbaixiu's plan. After the lich plunged into Hell, the god waited until the hell lords could no longer resist seeking help across the planes before making his move, casually leaking the history between himself and Anbaixiu along the way.
Devils invariably relished interpreting every motive with the utmost malice; without any embellishment needed, they would naturally jump to that conclusion.
Anbaixiu never expected the reasoning to be airtight. So long as it was barely plausible, they would accept it. Because they had truly lost too much, and they could not afford to lose.
For a gambler who had staked his very life, once presented with a seemingly plausible explanation, there was simply no room to retreat.
Everything proceeded precisely as Anbaixiu had envisioned. After Zariel inquired into the God of Alchemy's past with Anbaixiu, her suspicions dissipated considerably, or perhaps she simply convinced herself. At the very least, she decided to test the machine. Mammon agreed as well; after all, they had run out of alternatives.
As for Tiamat, no one knew what the Dragon Goddess had been busy with lately; she had not been seen for days. Unable to reach her right away and seeing Anbaixiu's soul on the verge of fading into oblivion, Zariel could finally sit still no longer and shoved the battered soul into the alchemical furnace.
After swallowing Anbaixiu's shattered soul, the alchemical furnace began to rumble. Immediately, lines of text appeared on the furnace's display.
"Soul integrity at 13 percent. Please insert souls as repair material."
Seeing these words, Zariel and Mammon both froze.
Damn it, could this be a trap?
With just a moment's hesitation, the soul integrity dropped to 10 percent, and the machine prompted once more to insert repair materials as soon as possible.
Gritting her teeth, Zariel snapped, "It's a gamble, then! There's no turning back now!"
A large handful of soul coins was shoved into the alchemical furnace, yet the prompt remained. Zariel had no choice but to continuously feed in more soul coins.
One hundred, two hundred, three thousand, fifty thousand... As the total approached a million soul coins, Zariel's eyes turned bloodshot. Mammon could not even hold her back, and was instead forced by Zariel to throw in several hundred thousand soul coins of his own.
Mammon now knew he had truly been swindled. How was this a soul-repairing machine? It was blatantly an extortion engine crafted by the God of Alchemy to avenge his student!
Just as Mammon was about to urge Zariel to cut her losses and admit defeat, the machine finally let out a piercing shriek, and the prompt on the outer display shifted.
"Repair materials sufficient. Soul restoration process initiated!"
Zariel and Mammon had been so furious moments ago that they wanted to smash the alchemical furnace, but upon seeing this line, they forcefully compelled themselves to calm down. Having come this far, win or lose, there had to be an outcome!
The alchemical furnace vibrated violently, looking as if it might blow apart into scrap at any second, causing the hearts of the two Archdukes of Hell to throb right alongside it—truly setting their poor hearts pounding.
The furnace ran for an entire day, ultimately hovering right on the brink of an explosion without ever actually shattering into fragments.
When the prompt "Soul completion has reached 100 percent" appeared, the alchemical furnace spewed out a massive plume of smoke and finally reopened.
A hazy figure materialized in the furnace's core, and Anbaixiu's venom-laced voice drifted out from within.
"Long time no see, you two."
The hazy silhouette waved in greeting toward the two bloodshot-eyed Archdukes of Hell.
Zariel roared, "I will make you taste every torment in Hell before putting you to work! Steel yourself, damned lich! A hundred thousand years wouldn't be enough to repay what you owe me!"
Mammon sneered. So much for the lich known as the Deceiver; he was nothing special after all. With a complete soul falling into devils' clutches, his future was set: he would become nothing more than a devil's plaything and money-printing press, enduring eternal torment.
Yet when Zariel reached inside to seize Anbaixiu's soul, she felt something unusual to the touch. What was this hard object?
When Zariel pulled the item from the furnace core, the two Archdukes of Hell were shocked to discover that it was not a restored soul at all, but a magic mirror.
Specifically, the magic mirror invented by the God of Alchemy for cross-planar remote communication.
And Anbaixiu's figure from moments ago was displayed upon the glass—the lifelike image of a black-haired, black-eyed youth, even winking at the two Archdukes of Hell.
In utter shock, Zariel demanded, "Damned lich, what did you do?!"
Within the mirror, Anbaixiu smiled and said, "Nothing much. I merely took inspiration from my old friend Arthur Ryan's condition and turned myself into a heroic spirit anchored to an artifact, that's all."
Mammon mocked in a sinister tone, "A heroic spirit? You look more like a malevolent spirit trapped in a mirror."
Anbaixiu replied nonchalantly, "The essence is identical: a soul that exists by anchoring to an artifact. For the undead, changing bodies is hardly unusual, is it?"
Zariel spoke no further, lunging her hand straight into the mirror's surface.
No matter what form this lich's soul took, the contract had not been annulled, meaning she remained his creditor and could drag his soul out for torture whenever she pleased!
Zariel swore to make this lich suffer to the utmost.
Yet when her hand plunged into the mirror, it was like scooping the reflection of the moon from water; she merely shattered Anbaixiu's image without grasping anything at all.
"How is this possible?! You cannot violate the laws of Hell! Having fallen to Hell as a sinner, there is no way you can escape!"
Zariel was dumbfounded. Anbaixiu's soul was right before her eyes—why couldn't she seize him?
Artifacts possessing item spirits were not unheard of, and Zariel was certainly experienced enough to know that wherever the physical vessel was, the heroic spirit would be, requiring only a method to peel it away. Back then, Arthur Ryan had merged with the time dragon's artifact hourglass, yet he could still pop out to fight people all the same.
Yet Anbaixiu seemed simultaneously present and absent, entirely out of reach.
Watching the enraged, flabbergasted Archdukes of Hell, Anbaixiu calmly explained, "Of course I cannot defy the laws of Hell. My soul is still in Hell... at least, part of it is. Did you two Archdukes forget? The magic mirrors are a set of artifacts. Wherever a magic mirror exists, that is where my soul is.
"Not only am I in Hell, but I exist in every single magic mirror simultaneously. Yet when you attempt to seize me, I am not inside this individual mirror. This is a special superposition state of the soul. Back when I was researching how to hide my phylactery, I conducted similar experiments, though applying it to a soul is truly a first.
"This was the boldest gamble of my life's research. Ao bless me, it actually succeeded."
Looking at the utterly bewildered expressions on the two devil archdukes' faces, Anbaixiu maintained his smile and said, "Come now, don't look like that. You two simply have no way to drag me off for torture, but I never said I would renege on our previous contract.
"It's just that the terms might require a slight revision. Would you two care to sit down and talk things over again?"
Chapter 529