The City of Alchemy acted swiftly. In less than a day, all the formulas and blueprints Anbaixiu requested had been prepared and delivered before him.
Gustavo Fring knew Anbaixiu's capabilities very well, so he had not tampered with the formulas—a gesture of genuine good faith.
In addition, Gustavo Fring brought a piece of news.
The Knights of Condemnation had dispatched an envoy, who would formally arrive in the City of Alchemy in three days. Factoring in various diplomatic formalities, Anbaixiu likely had only about five days left before the Knights of Condemnation obtained intelligence on Alan Watson.
Anbaixiu sat in his laboratory for several hours, skimming through all the blueprints and materials, and then drew up a massive pile of parchment drafts.
Fortunately, liches had no need to eat, drink, or relieve themselves, allowing Anbaixiu not to waste a single minute or second.
Looking at the large pile of drafts before him, Anbaixiu frowned and said, "Five days is cutting it a bit close. I hope Isabel won't let me down."
With that, Anbaixiu gathered up a large assortment of items and sought out Isabel, who was currently concocting potions.
"Put down whatever you're holding," Anbaixiu told Isabel.
Startled, Isabel flinched, and the glass vial in her hand suddenly burst into a puff of smoke, ruining all the ingredients inside.
Before Isabel could apologize, however, Anbaixiu had already placed two glass boxes and several sheets of parchment in front of her.
"Don't speak. Listen carefully. The task ahead is extremely dangerous. If you make any mistake, you're dead."
Hearing how grave Anbaixiu sounded, Isabel grew tense at once, hurriedly pulling out a small notebook to take notes.
Pointing at the two glass boxes, Anbaixiu said, "Inside these is the original strain of the bone-colonizing virus. Have you heard of it?"
Isabel shook her head. "No."
"Sigh, read more books in your spare time. This is a failed alchemical product..."
Anbaixiu could only patiently explain it to Isabel.
The bone-colonizing virus was originally called the Bone-Healing Biological Agent. It had been intended to treat fractures or crippled patients by promoting rapid bone regeneration. Early trials were very successful—only later did they realize it was far too successful.
Anyone infected with this biological virus would heal rapidly from any bone injury. Broken bones knit together in seconds, and amputees could regrow the bones of missing limbs within minutes.
Yet the effect was simply too potent. A few days later, every patient injected with the agent began suffering severe side effects.
This virus had no concept of normal wear and tear.
The human body has over three hundred bones. Even lying completely still, breathing and heartbeats cause subtle shifts in the bones, naturally creating microscopic wear. Much like running too much wears down the knees, it normally wasn't a big deal—but the bone-colonizing virus didn't care.
Wherever there was damage, it spurred growth and healing, completely unchecked.
At first, patients only felt joint pain, as if afflicted by rheumatism. Over time, however, the joints grew stiff, and countless bone spurs sprouted within their bodies, piercing muscle and skin until the person calcified completely into a skeletal statue.
The process was irreversible and caused excruciating agony.
A perfectly good medicine thus turned into a lethal poison. Were it not for the high production cost and strict conditions required for infection, it certainly would have become a travel-and-home staple for untraceable murder.
"Your task is to culture more of this bone-colonizing virus for me."
"I've already written out the modified culturing procedure. Follow the steps exactly and under no circumstances make a mistake. Be especially careful when transferring between petri dishes. If you accidentally infect yourself, there is no cure."
Isabel's hands trembled. She was only an apprentice—was she already facing such a terrifying experiment?
Seeing Isabel's expression, Anbaixiu offered a word of comfort: "Don't be nervous. The virus's infectivity is rather low; be careful and you'll be fine. Even if you get infected, don't panic—just come straight to me."
Isabel was momentarily touched, but then felt something was off. She asked, "My Lord, didn't you say there's no cure for this virus?"
"Right, there isn't. But don't worry—I can turn you into an undead. That way it won't hurt anymore. As for the bone hyperplasia, once you're thoroughly dead and it loses its nutrient supply, the virus will die off quickly too."
Isabel: "..."
Anbaixiu patted Isabel on the shoulder and added, "Rest assured—skeleton, zombie, wraith, or any other type, take your pick. Even if you want to be a Death Knight, I can figure something out."
Having said his piece, Anbaixiu left Isabel alone and swiftly departed the laboratory.
Time was short, and he had much to do.
Using Fly, he went straight to another laboratory. Displayed here were not bones or medicinal ingredients, but piles of mechanical parts of all sizes.
Anbaixiu took out a thick stack of blueprints, then began selecting parts to assemble.
This was originally a newly produced portable magitech cannon from the City of Alchemy. Operating on air pressure, it could fire simple stones as ammunition. Its shots dealt purely physical damage, bypassing many types of magical barrier shields, and excelled in siege warfare.
Anbaixiu had long known about it, but the magitech cannons bought on the market were fitted with anti-tamper mechanisms, rendering them useless once disassembled. Now with the blueprints in hand, Anbaixiu quickly pinpointed the key: the core of the cannon was an air-condensing magic circle. Ingeniously designed, it had low consumption, astonishing air compression efficiency, and, most importantly, great stability, making barrel ruptures unlikely.
The structure of this magic circle alone could fetch several million gold coins. Had the City of Alchemy not reached the end of its rope, they would never have handed over such core technology.
With the detailed diagrams of the magic circle, modifying it was child's play for Anbaixiu. In just a few minutes, he had assembled a long tubular device. A slender metal barrel replaced the original cannon barrel, transforming the magitech cannon into an oddly shaped magitech rifle.
Snapping his fingers, the Kha'Zix Mark II skeleton appeared at Anbaixiu's feet.
Deftly detaching the scythe claws of this aberrant skeleton, he fitted the magitech rifle onto it. It latched perfectly into the slot pre-carved into the bone.
Under Anbaixiu's control, the newly refitted skeleton raised the barrel and aimed it at him.
*Thwip!*
With a soft hiss, powerful air pressure propelled a bone bullet from the barrel, slamming into Anbaixiu's shield.
The bullet spun madly before coming to a halt, hovering in midair.
The aberrant skeleton emptied its magazine, every bullet intercepted by Anbaixiu. Though it failed to breach his shield, he was already thoroughly satisfied with the result.
"The power is quite good—stronger than ordinary crossbow bolts. Simple to operate and easy to aim, with zero need to graft arms onto the skeleton to crank a drawstring... The consumption is a bit heavy, though. The magic circle exhausts its energy after firing at most nine rounds. A pity there's no time to design an interchangeable magical magazine."
With so little time, turning all the aberrant skeletons into riflemen was out of the question, but outfitting a portion with these magitech rifles would form a surprise detachment. Still, time was too tight. Against these paladins, undead of any kind were easily countered; the ideal unit would have been mercury soul puppets.
Yet even though he had obtained all the data on living mercury, producing it in such a short window was simply impossible.
Anbaixiu nimbly began assembling more magitech rifles. Beyond these, he had many other preparations to make, fully determined to ensure those paladins couldn't even set foot past the castle gates.
At this moment, Headless Bro walked in beaming and said to Anbaixiu, "Brother Diga, I've settled things with Ona. She's transferring the tavern directly to you and is already getting ready to relocate... Wait, what are you busy with?"
Without looking up, Anbaixiu replied, "The Knights of Condemnation will be here soon. How could I not make proper preparations?"
Headless Bro said with supreme confidence, "What's there to fear? You have me."
Anbaixiu said exasperatedly, "Of course I know you're here. You'd never just stand by and watch someone kill me, right?"
Patting his chest, Headless Bro said, "Naturally! Just a few paladins—I wouldn't even bat an eye at them."
To which Anbaixiu replied, "And yet, even with you protecting me with everything you had, I still ended up with only a head left."
Headless Bro fell silent at once. That prophecy was indeed frightening, and he quickly reined in his complacency.
"That pale-skinned woman is very likely one of these paladins. Gareth, even if the future is set in stone and my head is destined to be severed, I want my phylactery preserved. You are my greatest hope and safeguard, but I don't want an accident to happen because of your carelessness."
Setting down the parts in his hands, Anbaixiu placed both hands on Headless Bro's shoulders and said with utter gravity, "Gareth, I entrust my phylactery to you. Please, give it your absolute all!"
Chapter 53