Hell was no pleasant place; it tormented every sinner with absolute equality.
Devils at the bottom lived agonizing lives, either slaughtered or enslaved. High-ranking devils had it rough as well; the Blood War was a never-ending torment. Whenever troops ran short, the Archdukes of Hell would institute forced conscription.
No one could escape this conscription. Any hell lord had to supply equipment or personnel upon command; otherwise, they would find themselves dragged onto the front lines instead.
Even the archdukes, the supreme rulers of Hell, had endless vexations to juggle lest they face the retribution of Hell's laws.
Zariel could not even take her vengeance. She had to keep the turncoat Bel alive. Even though she confined him to the Blood River Fortress, every encounter with him stirred agonizing memories of being sliced to ribbons.
Hell tormented every guilty soul equally, yet recently, things had begun to shift ever so slightly.
Within Melina's territory, there briefly emerged a sense that devils could simply kick back and take it easy.
Here, it seemed one could eat their fill without working too hard, free from the constant dread that another devil would sneak up from behind, slit their throat, and butcher their flesh and blood for spell components.
Many sinners newly arrived in Hell flocked here for shelter, soon settling into peaceful, stable jobs and an easygoing life.
These devils grew accustomed to the magic mirror system.
Melina's territory had already instituted a comprehensive set of trading rules. Every devil deposited their soul fragments or soul coins into the magic mirror system rather than carrying them on their person.
This led directly to the disappearance of thieves.
Even if someone stole another's magic mirror, they couldn't bypass the authentication to take their soul coins. Of course, outright muggings still happened on occasion; after all, the guards maintaining order couldn't prevent every crime, not to mention that many of them took bribes.
Such was the inherently evil nature of devils, virtually impossible to eradicate.
Still, by any metric, this place could already be called "paradise" within Hell.
Yet this comfort was built entirely upon Anbaixiu paying out of his own pocket.
Hiding inside the magic mirror, Anbaixiu looked over a vast mound of data, feeling a slight headache coming on.
Under normal circumstances, the yield of Melina's territory should have supported over eight hundred thousand devils. But as a massive number of devils began to slack off, the territory's soul fragment output actually began to dwindle.
This wasn't because the Blood River Fortress had tampered with anything during the initial exchange of territorial rights; rather, the laws of Hell were taking effect.
This was a place designed to punish sinners, not a resort for taking it easy.
The more devils enjoyed an undeserved peace, the more the laws of Hell would naturally kick into gear.
Eating too well, are we? Then nobody eats.
That was Hell.
The hell lords were no fools. Giving superficial favors to win over hearts was simple enough; the ambitious tyrants condemned to Hell didn't refrain because they didn't know how, but because it simply wasn't viable.
On other planes, winning over the populace garnered immense support.
In Hell, buying loyalty and letting devils live comfortably made you an enemy of the entire plane, bringing all manner of misfortune crashing down upon you.
Although Anbaixiu's plan of psychological rat races had won Hell's recognition, things hadn't yet reached the cutthroat stage. The devils had skipped straight to enjoying their leisurely lives. Whatever the future held, the devils relishing this easy life right now had triggered the punitive mechanism of Hell's laws.
Currently, it had only reduced soul fragment yields. If Anbaixiu didn't start cracking the whip on these devils soon, even greater troubles would await him.
This was a world that forbade kindness to others, and for now, Anbaixiu lacked the power to pit himself against the plane itself.
Lately, he had sunk a considerable number of souls out of his own pocket just to sustain the influx of devils within Melina's domain.
"As expected, turning the will of a world isn't that simple. Ending the Blood War truly won't be easy."
Profit or loss from managing a single territory didn't weigh too heavily on Anbaixiu's mind, because Hell Bank had already commenced operations. Under Anbaixiu's guidance, Mammon had begun working with vigor, absorbing massive amounts of capital in a short span of time.
Those soul coins, in turn, were used by Mammon to instigate turf wars among the lords of the Third Layer of Hell.
A deluge of loans prompted the lords to upgrade their territories, from troops and armaments to grand magic arrays and defenses.
If your neighbor stockpiles grain and you stockpile weapons, then your neighbor is your granary. Everyone understood this principle. In the past, amassing weapons wasn't so easy, but now loans were handed out freely; if others borrowed and you didn't, you were doomed.
As a result, the Third Layer of Hell had grown lively with warfare lately, almost resembling a miniature Blood War.
Although countless borrowers died and generated bad debt, Anbaixiu's endless currency-printing machine nonetheless forced the magic mirror system into the hands of every lord in the Third Layer.
In a brief window, the volume of soul coins flowing through the bank surpassed what Mammon had handled over the past century.
It was hard to tally whether this operation was operating at a net loss or profit, but Mammon's grip over the Third Layer had soared exponentially. He could decide who won at will, mobilizing forces however he pleased.
This was entirely due to the unique nature of soul coins: they were sustenance, munitions, and currency all at once—the universal equivalent intrinsically tied to every devil.
Mammon finally grasped why Anbaixiu had once called him shortsighted. With Hell Bank at his disposal, there was truly no need to nickel-and-dime over meager interest rates. The cosmic laws of the entire Third Layer were commending his actions, making Mammon feel palpably stronger—an effect unattainable even by devouring hundreds of millions of soul coins.
Now, Mammon didn't even bother asking how much the bank made. He only asked which hell lord in the Third Layer had yet to take out a loan from him.
He would not permit the existence of any lord who owed him nothing. If everyone was in debt, everyone was a slave; no matter how ruthlessly they competed against one another, they remained slaves forever.
What a glorious feeling that was!
Seeing this development, Mammon's "friends" likewise intensified their promotion of Hell Bank and its companion magic mirror system. The Nine Hells were rapidly being infiltrated by Anbaixiu, to the point that the God of Alchemy had to put aside his research and work overtime to upgrade the mirrors. Otherwise, the sheer volume of operations would have frozen Anbaixiu into a statue, barely capable of coherent thought.
Anbaixiu ought to have pushed these initiatives across the First Layer of Hell as well, rather than solely pouring investments into Melina's domain.
Yet for some unknown reason, Zariel seemed completely preoccupied with other matters lately, showing zero enthusiasm for the rollout. Lacking the backing of the First Layer's ruler, Anbaixiu's lone promotional efforts were severely constrained. Unable to drag other lords into the vortex of debt, Anbaixiu had no choice but to keep subsidizing Melina's territory.
If this went on, Anbaixiu would be forced to hike taxes in Melina's land, or the punishment of Hell's laws would descend before long.
"What on earth is Zariel thinking?"
Anbaixiu felt irritated, but his hands were tied. The First Layer was Zariel's domain, after all. If the fallen angel chose to drag her feet, there was nothing he could do except wait for time to run its course.
"If all else fails, I'll have Melina wage war on neighboring territories. Fighting will halt the retribution of Hell's laws and force the other hell lords to take out war loans."
Expanding influence was a necessity. To quash the Blood War, the prerequisite was wielding sufficient sway over the entirety of Hell—sway vast enough to dictate the course of the conflict.
Only then would Anbaixiu earn the right to speak of ending the war. For now, however, plenty of other matters demanded his attention. The God of Alchemy had nearly finished deciphering infernal engine technology, and the reach of alchemy would soon expand further. This was a critical juncture. While mastering Hell's technology might not propel the God of Alchemy straight into the ranks of greater deities, riding the coattails of the magic mirror's influence in Hell would grant him a potent boost, placing him among the strongest intermediate deities.
Interestingly, every time the God of Alchemy advanced, it birthed an epoch-making form of "alchemy."
This differed from other gods. When other deities advanced, they simply grew more powerful themselves, perhaps bestowing minor boons upon their followers or race.
For instance, if Silvanus grew stronger, druids devoted to Silvanus would receive spellcasting enhancements, making various nature spells more potent. The same applied to the Lord of the Dawn; if he grew stronger, a paladin's Divine Smite hit harder. If a racial deity advanced, perhaps the race's newborns would be healthier and possess greater talent.
Yet the influence of those deities was ultimately bounded. The technical advancements of the God of Alchemy were an entirely different beast.
Alchemical products did not discriminate; anyone could use them. Following his previous advancement, the God of Alchemy had created the magic mirror, and its far-reaching influence was known to all.
Whether human or devil, anyone could use a magic mirror, granting the advancements of alchemy an immense scope of impact.
If the God of Alchemy's new "technology" achieved an impact comparable to the magic mirror, his reach would broaden once more, causing his divine power to surge.
Like a snowball rolling downhill, the pace of advancement would be astonishingly swift.
However, if the technology's impact fell flat, alchemy would languish in an extended bottleneck. The God of Alchemy could not steadily advance by gathering worshippers like the Lord of the Dawn. Unless a genius emerged to break through the bottleneck, he would remain stranded outside the threshold of greater deity status forever.
Being a conceptual deity was a double-edged sword; one could not reap the rewards without bearing the risks.
Nevertheless, Anbaixiu retained ample confidence in the God of Alchemy. His mentor shared his humble background and deeply understood the plight of the downtrodden. Alchemy's true power lay in its impact on the grassroots—a bottom-up revolution in productivity. Only by anchoring itself there could alchemy continue to thrive.
For now, Anbaixiu waited on two fronts: for the God of Alchemy to complete this advancement, and for changes to unfold across Hell—such as the arrival of the enemies he so eagerly anticipated.
Two months had passed since Anbaixiu publicly announced his intent to end the Blood War. Aside from hotheaded fools who arrived shouting for blood, Anbaixiu had actually managed to make peace with a few old adversaries.
The most formidable among them were the tiefling nobles from the former Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn.
Anbaixiu and Mister Misfortune had joined forces to package and sell off those millions of tieflings, thoroughly fleecing them one last time right before shipping them to Hell. The soul coins those tiefling nobles had scraped together by pawning everything they owned were confiscated by Zariel the moment they landed in Hell, leaving millions of aristocrats utterly destitute.
A large portion was cast into the worm pits to be chewed up, digested, and spat out as weak devils. But rulers like Domino Lawley were different; these former members of the Unholy Council chose the simplest route—sacrificing their own kin.
Domino Lawley's clan numbered over ten thousand. Once she realized she had been duped, the former Hellrider wasted no time sacrificing her family. Well-versed in infernal methods, she swiftly converted her relatives into soul coins, remitted them to Zariel to commute part of her punishment, and was ultimately transformed into an erinyes after enduring a battery of tortures.
An erinyes was fine; it was considered a fairly powerful devil and well-suited to Domino Lawley's talents.
The other high nobles of the Unholy Hymn followed suit. Within days of descending to Hell, millions of nobles were whittled down to a mere hundred thousand or so. Yet this ruthless sacrifice, shorn of all familial affection, granted those remaining hundred thousand formidable power. Composed almost entirely of high-ranking devils, they could sweep across many domains if they acted in unison, becoming a formidable faction.
This was hardly difficult to achieve. After all, they knew each other inside out, none of them were virtuous, and no one would choose such a moment to dredge up past grudges.
Thus, Domino Lawley quickly reclaimed authority, reconstituted the Unholy Council, and sought to carve out a domain in Hell.
And then... she was forcibly conscripted by the Blood River Fortress.
Sorry, but the Blood War reigned supreme. All devils had to obey the call. Over a hundred thousand high-ranking devils made for prime soldiers; Bel was hardly blind.
Caught completely off guard, Domino Lawley found herself reduced to a foot soldier on the Blood War battlefield. Though granted an abundance of magical gear and kept together as a cohesive unit by Archduke Bel, a hundred thousand devils were a drop in the bucket on the Blood War front.
In the first month alone, half of those hundred-odd thousand perished.
Only upon facing true demons did they realize that warfare on the Prime Material Plane was child's play. Among other races, fearlessness in the face of death was a trait reserved for elite troops; on the Blood War battlefield, fearlessness was standard issue for every demon.
Demons whose bodies had been chopped to pieces yet whose severed jaws still snapped viciously were everywhere.
Anyone with a shred of weakness in their resolve would go mad within a day on that savage battlefield, only to end up as demon fodder.
Domino Lawley nonetheless survived. Having followed Zariel into Hell in the past, she was far better adapted to this realm, and the combat instincts she had neglected for years were rekindled through the crucible of life and death.
By the time Domino Lawley led the surviving tiefling "remnants" to his door, Anbaixiu could barely recognize her.
As a name on his revenge ledger—though not particularly high up—Domino Lawley had shrewdly chosen "peace."
Unlike the idiots who arrived barking for a fight, Domino Lawley maintained restraint from the start, stating only that she wished to meet Anbaixiu. Her request was promptly granted.
Anbaixiu was astonished by the transformation in the former tiefling queen—not merely in appearance, but above all in her bearing.
Domino Lawley made no mention whatsoever of the past, nor did she utter Mister Misfortune's name. She asked directly how they might collaborate.
In her view, Anbaixiu's decision to expose his identity and lure his foes out could not simply be about killing them off to mint more currency. Facing the Deceiver, who could outwit even the gods, Domino Lawley had long abandoned any thought of playing mind games, seeking only the simplest and most direct path to mutual benefit.
"Hell really does shape people," Anbaixiu murmured with feeling, before getting down to discussing hiring terms with Domino Lawley.
Of the tieflings who had plunged into Hell, fewer than fifty thousand remained alive.
Though drastically reduced in number, having undergone the baptism of fire, they had emerged as a unit of burgeoning renown on the Blood River battlefield. Furthermore, thanks to their distinguished service, the sector under Domino Lawley's command held a "shortcut" leading directly to the Blood River Fortress.
This was a privilege granted by Bel. In the face of insurmountable foes, a select few could use this shortcut to retreat to the Blood River Fortress to preserve their lives; in ordinary times, it also served to transport vital supplies.
Only units that had rendered distinguished service on the Blood River battlefield received such a "boon."
This explained what Cambien the cambion had meant back when Melina first arrived in Hell, claiming he knew a shortcut—he had been referring to the teleportation channel under Domino Lawley's control. But Cambien had been blowing hot air back then; he had no connection to Domino Lawley, having merely dealt with low-ranking soldiers in that unit and learned of the shortcut's existence without any guarantee of actually using it.
By the end of their discussion, Domino Lawley secured a substantial loan from Anbaixiu, more than enough to completely re-equip her troops. All she had to offer in return was minimal—a modest amount of interest. This left Domino Lawley stunned; when had Anbaixiu ever been so easy to deal with?
Fearing that Anbaixiu had laid some trap, Domino Lawley repeatedly reviewed the terms with him.
Anbaixiu couldn't be bothered to prolong the conversation. To him, Domino Lawley was merely a foothold planted on the Blood River battlefield—of little use for now, better than nothing at best.
What truly commanded Anbaixiu's attention was another piece of news he had just received—news that prompted him to abandon Domino Lawley on the spot.
Word had finally arrived concerning one of the three names on his list.
Salvador, Scribe of the Second Layer of Hell!
Chapter 559