Pack It All Up

"These, and these, and everything in those two warehouses... yes, pack them all up and deliver them to me!" More than a dozen Mage Hands held a massive magic mirror aloft in midair, preceded by a trail of fire blazing a path before them. Zariel's flame truly worked wonders. Anbaixiu encountered no obstacles within the Blood River Fortress, proceeding straight into the critical warehouse district. The imp acting as his guide fluttered its wings, wearing an ingratiating smile out of sheer dread that Lord Deceiver might take offense at something. Rumor had it that a mere furrow of this lord's brow spawned tens of thousands of venomous schemes, and a cold smirk from him could pluck the soul right out of a devil's chest... and not even by his own hand, but by having the victim dig it out and offer it up with both hands. Thus, Anbaixiu inspected the Blood River Fortress, requisitioning everything that caught his eye. The equipment in the warehouses fell into three main categories. The first was naturally the most common external gear, such as magical armor, weapons, and the like. Anbaixiu did not care much for such things; who couldn't forge magical equipment? Consequently, he took only the high-end pieces, yet even after cherry-picking, he cleared out half a warehouse. The second category consisted of large-scale siege and defensive engines, comparable to the magitech cannons common on the Prime Material Plane, though based on somewhat different principles. Items like hellfire projectors and iron-thorn mines were hardly rare here. Anbaixiu requested several dozen pieces of each type. After all, researching them meant reverse-engineering, which always required disassembly; how could he conduct proper research without ample spares? As for the third category, it was the true objective of his trip—infernal engines. Ordinary devils struggled to wage endless warfare against demons. Although demons possessed no inherent physiological superiority over devils, their sheer numbers were staggering, and they were perpetually fueled by a frenzied lust for destruction. Devils possessed higher intellect, but with intellect came the vulnerabilities common to intelligent beings. Devils could tire, feel fear, and see their will eroded by the endless Blood War until they succumbed to cowardice and war weariness. Infernal engines solved this problem. Elite devil warriors were implanted with these mechanical contraptions. An infernal engine could augment a devil's physical body, providing virtually limitless power so long as enough soul coins were fed into it. Even more terrifyingly, these devices remained entirely under the control of higher-ranking devils. Fleeing the battlefield was impossible; the infernal engine would commandeer your body and force you to keep fighting. Implanting an infernal engine required a complex and agonizing surgical procedure, and Anbaixiu happened to witness an installation during his tour. A decorated cambion lay strapped to an operating table, his limbs bound tight. A bug-like scythe devil served as the surgeon, slicing the abdomen wide open, wrenching out all the internal organs, and forcefully stuffing the various components of the infernal engine inside. Paying no heed to whether the parts actually fit, the scythe devil noticed mid-procedure that the cambion's skeletal frame was too small and simply shattered the bones to force the engine in. Throughout the entire ordeal, the cambion remained wide awake, shrieking in pure agony. He sobbed and cried that he no longer wanted any honors, eventually begging for death, renouncing even his own life. Yet devils possessed not a shred of compassion. Shoving the infernal engine inside was merely the first step; the second proved even more gruesome. To replace the function of the vital organs, conduits had to be hooked up one by one. There was no suturing. The tubes were jammed directly into the openings, where the engine's built-in talons latched on automatically before secreting a glue-like substance to fuse with the blood vessels and nerves. The process seemed far more agonizing than vivisection. The cambion's shrieks grew warped and shrill, resembling the squeals of a castrated pig. Once the connections were made, still without any stitching, the flayed abdominal skin was slapped back over the cavity and smeared haphazardly with a special blood salve. The concoction forced the wound to knit rapidly, though the sensation was hardly pleasant. Anbaixiu assumed that was the end of it, but after covering the abdomen, the scythe devil glanced at the operating table and clicked its tongue in annoyance. "Oops, forgot to install the stabilizer." It was a glowing, fist-sized sphere bristling with spikes. This was the infernal engine's stabilizer, designed to filter out energetic impurities; without it, the device was prone to exploding. Although an infernal engine typically contained several stabilizers and missing one was hardly catastrophic, this scythe devil was evidently a meticulous practitioner. It sliced the cambion open once more, pulled out the engine, and reinstalled everything from scratch. Though Anbaixiu had regained his living senses, his centuries as a lich had exposed him to countless corpses, so this level of gore hardly stirred him. What fascinated him was how such a crude, butcherly installation could leave the subject alive and the device fully functional. Life was fragile. Even a dragon, cut open and stuffed with a mechanical contraption without time to heal, would most likely perish. Yet after being brutalized repeatedly and having his belly pasted shut, the cambion was simply kicked off the operating table—and managed to crawl out of the surgery room under his own power. What kind of miracle doctor was this?! "Is it the unique constitution of devils, or the extraordinary engineering of the infernal engine?" Anbaixiu felt that if he could unlock the secrets of the infernal engine, it would provide an enormous boon to alchemy, which in turn would elevate the divine power of the God of Alchemy once more. If Anbaixiu wished to become a deity, he could not rely solely on his own strength. If the God of Alchemy attained the rank of a greater deity first, sharing a portion of that divine might would provide Anbaixiu with immense aid. Since Ao looked down on him, Anbaixiu had no choice but to rely on himself. He demanded several sets of every infernal engine model, but this time things did not proceed quite as smoothly. The imp guiding him grimaced as though nursing a toothache and could not help pleading, "Lord Deceiver, our supply of infernal engines is already so limited. Could you perhaps take a few less? Archduke Bel cares deeply about these engines. If too many go missing, I'll be..." Anbaixiu smiled and casually tossed him a palm-sized magic mirror. Before the imp could grasp what was happening, Anbaixiu showed him the number displayed across its surface. It was a balance of soul coins stored within an account, and the figure was enough to make the imp flutter its wings in delirious excitement. "My lord! I know where a few limited models are kept in another warehouse! Let me show you!" Word of the magic mirror's utility had already spread far and wide, and the Hell Bank's trial operations had begun. More than a dozen Archdukes of Hell had sent their congratulations, a display that had rocked the Nine Hells. Mammon, the inaugural president of the Hell Bank, was currently the most celebrated figure in Hell. Anbaixiu chuckled inwardly. With enough money, you could make the devil turn a millstone—and devils were devils, after all. Back on the Prime Material Plane, Anbaixiu had never had it so good. He could not forge gold out of thin air, after all. But in Hell... printing counterfeit money felt downright exhilarating. Just as Anbaixiu finished clearing out several warehouses and prepared to make off with the loot, an amnizu clad head-to-toe in heavy armor appeared, fixing its crimson eyes on him. Anbaixiu could tell that this amnizu was fitted with an infernal engine of the highest caliber. A diffuse red glow emanated from its chest, venting steady flames from exhaust ports across its body that flared and ebbed in sync with its breathing. The imp, who had just been beaming from ear to ear, instantly trembled with terror and stammered frantically, "M-M-M-My lord... I-I-I... he carries Archduke Zariel's token... I-I-I..." It was entirely futile. Mid-sentence, the amnizu raised its right foot and brought it down toward the imp. The imp tried to flutter its wings to escape, but a vortex seemed to churn beneath the amnizu's sole, locking the smaller creature in place. The heavy boot crashed down, crushing the imp into a paste of gore. Anbaixiu cared nothing for the imp's survival. The goods were already in hand, and whatever grievances this amnizu harbored, Anbaixiu had no intention of relinquishing a single item. Yet the anticipated clash never materialized. Having crushed the treacherous imp, the amnizu bowed respectfully toward Anbaixiu. "Lord Deceiver, General Bel requests your presence for an audience."