Within the ruined palace, blood and magma mingled into a singular mire, sending up foul, charred black smoke.
Mammon's mountainously plump body lay sprawled on the ground, bristling with longswords. Virulent venomous blood flowed endlessly from his wounds, pooling into an expanse that nearly formed a lake beneath him.
The fallen angel, missing an arm and with severed wings, leaned against a broken wall, lava-like blood pouring from her battered, mangled form.
The two archdukes had waged an earth-shattering battle, ending in mutual ruin, and had already been lying amid the debris for several days.
Yet it only looked horrific; in truth, these were merely superficial injuries to them.
Mammon let out a low groan as blade after blade was forced out of his wounds. His mountainous bulk slowly shrank, ultimately returning to his potbellied humanoid guise. He looked as if he had never been injured at all, save for his rather disheveled hair.
Zariel did the same. By the time she rose to her feet once more, her mangled body had restored itself to perfection.
In Hell, an Archduke of Hell was akin to a deity within their own divine realm.
Had Zariel invoked the authority of the First Layer of Hell, Mammon could never have wounded her so severely. Nor would Mammon truly stake his life against Zariel on the First Layer; if they were to fight to the death, it would be within the Third Layer of Hell under his domain.
The two Archdukes of Hell had merely been venting the gloom and indignation stifled in their chests, not trying to force the slumbering Lord of Hell awake to give each of them a slap across the face.
Zariel waved a hand, and the ruined palace began to reconstitute itself. Everything smashed during the two archdukes' tantrum began to mend.
Zariel and Mammon looked at each other in silence, like two gamblers who had lost everything, each nursing their own dejection.
Right at that moment, Anbaixiu's voice chimed in from a corner: "You two have finally calmed down, I see. Honestly, I find it rather strange—why were you so angry? It's not like I ever said I would welsh on the debt."
Zariel and Mammon turned toward the corner. Anbaixiu's figure had appeared in another magic mirror.
Except he looked slightly different than before: a white clown mask now covered his face. Yet even without a clear look at his visage, the sound of his voice alone was enough for Zariel to recognize that detestable lich!
"You damned fraud!"
Zariel spat a curse, but ultimately held back. Her rage was mostly spent, and smashing another magic mirror now would accomplish nothing.
Mammon was more decisive than Zariel. Stepping before the magic mirror, he demanded of Anbaixiu, "Speak, you wretch who deserves to roast in hellfire for all eternity—what exactly are your terms?!"
Anbaixiu paid no mind to the threat, merely offering the two a smile. "What terms could I possibly have? I simply wish to continue our banking partnership. We carry on according to the previous proportions, and I will make up the remaining soul coins. Wouldn't that resolve everything?"
Zariel and Mammon both froze in astonishment.
What kind of condition was that?
Agitated, Zariel asked, "What did you say? You intend to continue our previous cooperation?"
"Naturally. What reason would I have to go back on my word?"
Mammon pressed on, "Everything as before, including the capital contributions and profit shares?!"
Anbaixiu maintained his smile. "Of course. How could I renege on an agreed-upon price? I have always conducted business fairly and never violated a contract."
Zariel and Mammon looked at each other. If that was the case, why the hell had they fought? Couldn't they have just kept things as they were from the start?!
Looking back, hadn't the apocalyptic brawl between the two of them made them look like complete idiots?
Still riddled with doubt, Mammon said, "No, something is wrong. You might as well tell the truth. I don't believe for a second that you want nothing!"
Anbaixiu replied as calmly as ever, "To be fair, I never intended to do anything from the beginning. It was Archduke Zariel who was set on tormenting me. Did I ever say a single word about not continuing our partnership?"
Zariel snapped heatedly, "You said we needed to renegotiate the terms! How is that any different from welshing? Do you think I don't know what you were scheming?"
"A misunderstanding." Anbaixiu spread his hands and continued, "Honored Archdukes, I never once considered altering the contract regarding capital contributions or profit shares. When I spoke of renegotiating terms, I merely meant that the bank's operational direction needed adjustments. Yet you wouldn't hear me out and resorted to violence right away."
Zariel clenched her fists. Had she not known she couldn't touch him, she would have dragged this lich out and beaten him bloody. Anbaixiu refrained from further provocation, saying placidly to the two devil archdukes, "Still, a minor misunderstanding won't ruin our partnership, will it? The previous terms remain unchanged, and I will still provide the agreed-upon soul coins. However, I have encountered a slight difficulty on my end and require some assistance from the two of you."
Zariel wanted to say something more, but Mammon held her back.
Though he knew full well whatever Anbaixiu brought up next wouldn't be any "slight difficulty," Mammon nonetheless breathed a sigh of relief. As long as there was room to negotiate, they wouldn't lose everything. Things having come to this, and with no way to drag the lich out, they could only endure for now.
No matter. Devils enjoyed eternal life; they could bide their time and settle the score with him centuries down the road.
Thus, Mammon said to Anbaixiu, "Speak, then. What is this 'slight difficulty' of yours?"
"Well, I am running short on the materials used to forge soul coins. As you both likely know, my main supply comes from purchases—originally bought from the elves. But now, my business in the Prime Material Plane has suffered a severe blow, so sourcing materials has become a problem..."
Mammon and Zariel both frowned. It was not that the matter was catastrophic, but that it was rather troublesome.
Even as Archdukes of Hell, the most exalted of devils, their influence in the Prime Material Plane was limited. Not to mention the elves were sheltered by the Elven Gods, so neither archduke dared act recklessly there.
Zariel asked suspiciously, "Someone actually dared to muscle in on your business?"
"Tsk, tsk. Is that something an Archduke of Hell should say? Archduke Zariel, have you seen so few greedy souls? In name, I am already dead and fallen into Hell. A dead kingpin inspires no fear. Though my enemies haven't succeeded yet, my business has already taken a heavy hit. If you don't believe me, feel free to ask around."
Anbaixiu spoke with utter confidence, for every word was true.
The Alchemy Association was conducting an all-out offensive against the enterprises Anbaixiu had left behind, though they operated through covert commercial maneuvers that ordinary folk could scarcely detect. Even though the elves continued to trade with the Rose of Decay according to contract, operations had indeed felt the friction lately.
This was a state-level commercial trade war. Without a high degree of expertise, one could not even participate, let alone figure out whether they were turning a profit or bleeding in the red.
Anbaixiu had no fear of the devils investigating. Only his own people knew how deep the impact ran, and he could inflate or deflate his losses to outsiders however he pleased. If they didn't believe it, they were welcome to audit the books—unless Mammon personally sent an avatar to the Prime Material Plane to pore over the ledgers, he could never tell truth from fiction.
"What materials do you need?" Mammon asked.
Mammon had no intention of probing into whether it was true or false. In truth, he understood full well that Anbaixiu's so-called "difficulty" was just an angle to milk some advantage. Originally, Anbaixiu covered the materials for the soul coins; having the devils foot the bill now would allow him to pocket the savings.
Mammon had no clear idea of the exact margin; the true cost of a Simulated Soul was something only Anbaixiu himself could calculate. So long as the price was not outrageous, taking a slight loss could be counted as a win.
Anbaixiu said, "Rest assured, I'm truly not trying to swindle your money. The materials I need are quite simple: just some demon corpses and souls. The Blood River battlefield is right here on the First Layer of Hell, so such things shouldn't be worth much to you, right?"
Zariel and Mammon frowned once more.
It wasn't even a matter of being cheap—they practically cost nothing at all!
On the Blood River battlefield, immense numbers of demons fell dead at any given moment, and devils seeking military merits had to collect demon remains and haul them to the Blood River Fortress to redeem commendations.
These demonic remains could essentially be considered pollutants, as the carcasses of most demons were intensely toxic—especially harmful to devils.
One's enemies know one best. Over countless years of warfare, the demons had thoroughly mastered the devils' traits and weaknesses. They had even bred specialized self-detonating demons specifically to mount suicide charges across the Blood River battlefield.
The body parts of these demons served as lethal weapons—pure, concentrated contaminants.
Typically, only a small portion of demon carcasses could be repurposed into weapons or manufactured devils; the vast majority could only be incinerated with hellfire for safe disposal.
Occasionally, devils would gather these scraps to hand out as "rewards" when summoned by mortal cultists—which was really just dumping toxic garbage on fools.
Consequently, demon corpses held little utility. If Anbaixiu wanted them, giving them away wouldn't cost Zariel the slightest twinge of regret.
But was it truly that simple?
Would this damned, greedy lich really ask for only that?
Chapter 533