When Anbaixiu produced this contract, the entire First Layer of Hell shuddered in response.
Just as he had said, this contract carried immense symbolic significance. Reason dictated that Anbaixiu would not break it.
Yet this was the renowned Deceiver.
At this point, even Zariel had to admit that Anbaixiu was a trickster capable of making deities tremble; his lies were formidable enough to shake Cyric's divine portfolio.
Could a promise made by such an individual truly be trusted?
Zariel stared into Anbaixiu's eyes and demanded, "You must add a time limit!"
"A time limit? How long do you want to set?" Anbaixiu asked. "Let's be clear first—this is not necessarily something that can be resolved in a year or two."
In all seriousness, reform depended heavily on the subject. The drow elves were only just beginning to show slight signs of reformation now. For an angel like Zariel, who had spent untold years as a devil and accumulated boundless rancor, guiding her back to Mount Celestia was certainly not something that could happen overnight.
"You decide the timeframe, but it must be written into the contract."
Zariel also understood this was no simple task, so she did not press unreasonably hard. In her view, if Anbaixiu could resolve the matter within a few centuries, it would count as giving his best effort.
Yet Anbaixiu spoke up directly: "Ten years, then."
Magic coalesced, manifesting as a colossal clock that descended before them.
Pointing to the giant clock forged from the power of Hell's laws, Anbaixiu told Zariel, "Within ten years, I will send you back. If I fail, I will grant you your freedom and guarantee that you leave Hell safely."
Zariel could hardly believe it. She had never imagined Anbaixiu would dare make such a bold claim.
Yet the facts stood before her. The clause had already been incorporated into the contract. Having lived as a devil for so many years, Zariel was fully capable of telling whether there were any hidden pitfalls in the agreement.
Since Anbaixiu showed such sincerity, Zariel could not refuse.
The moment she signed her name upon the contract, Zariel felt the planar laws of Hell acting upon her body once more.
Yet this time, it was no longer erosion or torment—merely a restraint.
This was the term of the contract: Anbaixiu would find a way to help Zariel return to Mount Celestia, and in return, Zariel could not cause trouble at will in Hell and had to obey Anbaixiu's commands.
The clause was phrased vaguely. In theory, it wouldn't even be out of bounds for Anbaixiu to order Zariel to kneel and lick his toes, but both knew full well that doing so was completely pointless.
Zariel would rather commit suicide than suffer humiliation again. If Anbaixiu dared to humiliate her like that, Zariel would dare breach the contract on the spot and end her own life; death was death either way, and doing it sooner rather than later made little difference.
Thus, even though this clause was vague, both Anbaixiu and Zariel possessed their own bottom lines and understood perfectly well what could and could not be done.
"An angel cannot linger in Hell for long. Merely dividing my attention to suppress your holy light consumes most of my power. I can offer you a quieter environment, though it's somewhat spartan..."
Anbaixiu opened a spatial portal, unlocking his private pocket space to Zariel.
Zariel peered into the cluttered interior, but showed no disdain.
At most, there were a few too many bottles and jars, with disorganized notes scattered everywhere, but at least there was no foul stench of sulfur, nor the nauseating reek of blood.
Having regained her angelic form, Zariel felt an instinctual revulsion toward Hell's environment. Having a "clean" place for a temporary stay was already considered quite generous treatment.
Zariel shrunk her form down to mortal size and stepped slowly into Anbaixiu's private space.
Before parting, however, Zariel turned to Anbaixiu and said, "Thank you. You have given me hope. Therefore, I will also offer you a piece of advice. Though the power of the First Layer of Hell chose you of its own accord, this hell ultimately belongs to Asmodeus. You had best think carefully about how to explain everything to the Lord of Hell.
"Asmodeus can divide Hell's power into nine layers, and he can just as easily strip away the authority of the First Layer. When that happens, you will still be nothing more than a mortal."
Anbaixiu smiled faintly. "Rest assured. Devils aren't demons. I have never feared reasoning with anyone—even deities."
Zariel also knew her worry was superfluous. If anyone in this world could talk the Lord of Hell around with mere words, it was likely only the man before her.
Zariel took a deep breath and stepped into Anbaixiu's private space.
Anbaixiu sent the clock used for tracking time inside as well, looking thoroughly sincere.
Yet the moment the spatial portal closed, she had effectively crossed into another plane. Without Zariel noticing, the flow of time in that realm shifted.
In the past, his private space could hardly affect a deity.
Now, however, things were different. Anbaixiu wielded the power of the First Layer of Hell. He could now be referred to as a deity, possessing an unquestionable god-level status.
And so, entirely unbeknownst to Zariel, Anbaixiu adjusted the difference in the flow of time between the two realms.
One year in Hell, one day in the private space.
Ten years for Zariel would amount to more than 3,600 years in Hell.
Anbaixiu sighed. "Don't blame me. After all, a devil's honor was on the line, and that's just how we devils operate."
With that, Anbaixiu waved a hand toward the battered, dilapidated palace.
Power beyond words surged from every direction, repairing the palace according to Anbaixiu's will. The palace, once eerie, terrifying, and ruined like rubble, transformed into a scholarly archive filled with the scent of books.
Anbaixiu nodded in satisfaction. Only this suited his aesthetic tastes as a scholar.
Nothing was more captivating than knowledge, even to deities.
Having restored the palace, Anbaixiu looked down at his own body.
This form coalesced from Hell's laws was far too massive—over a dozen meters tall, such that taking a few steps made him worry about trampling passersby to death.
Yet this body was difficult to control, because strictly speaking, Anbaixiu remained fundamentally mortal. He had not ascended to godhood through the planar laws of Hell, as he had not fused completely with them.
Anbaixiu was currently still the spirit of the magic mirror, and his true body remained within the divine realm of the God of Alchemy; even Hell could do nothing about that.
Thus, what actually commanded the planar laws of Hell was this body before him, not Anbaixiu himself.
Anbaixiu was like the operator of a crane. The crane possessed immense power and answered his whim, but using that same crane to pop open a bottle cap was extraordinarily difficult and required prolonged practice.
So it took Anbaixiu quite some time to adjust the body down to normal size before finally stepping out of the brand-new palace.
Yet before he could even savor the prestige of an archduke of Hell, a cold-faced phantom manifested before him. This devil, who appeared even more scholarly than Anbaixiu, was Salvador, the scribe of the Second Layer of Hell.
Seeing his projection, Anbaixiu smiled. "Look, didn't I say it could be resolved? Zariel won't cause trouble, and the First Layer of Hell is stabilized. I have your help to thank for this."
Salvador shook his head. "I wasn't helping you. It's just that the Iron Archduke dislikes traveling abroad; if possible, he prefers not to lead troops into the First Layer in person. Moreover, you've only completed half your task. Zariel has calmed down, but what about the River of Blood?"
Anbaixiu said with a calm expression, "No need to worry, everything is within my calculations."
Salvador replied coldly, "You had best truly have a plan. The greatest duty of the First Layer of Hell is to suppress the demonic invasion. If you fail to fulfill this responsibility, the pressure will fall upon our Second Layer. When that happens, the Iron Archduke will not care whether you are a newly joined peer—he will crush you along with them."
Anbaixiu did not dispute it; he knew Salvador's words were no exaggeration.
The Iron Archduke of the Second Layer was a devil from the same era as the Lord of Hell—one of the oldest devils, existing since the day Hell was born. Before him, someone like Mammon, the so-called richest devil in Hell, was merely a parvenu. The Iron Archduke was true old nobility, and the original master of his domain.
The Lord of Hell slumbered year-round, while the Iron Archduke normally kept to himself behind closed doors. It might have seemed as though the older generation disliked interfering, but if real trouble arose, these old bastards would show younger devils the true caliber of the old guard.
The moment Anbaixiu learned of the incident with Zariel, the first person he sought out was Salvador. The Iron Archduke had to be kept at bay, or everything else would be pointless.
Now it seemed the scribe's favor had held up remarkably well; he had genuinely helped keep the Iron Archduke in check.
And now, it was time for Anbaixiu to deliver on his promise.
The upheaval in the First Layer of Hell would immediately catch the demons' attention. Regardless of how much they knew, they would launch an assault heedless of consequences.
An army of a million might be a decisive battle to others, but to demons, it was merely a probe.
A probe to test Hell's strength. If Hell truly collapsed, they would charge with everything they had, breach the River of Blood front, and use Hell as a springboard to invade the countless planes.
Anbaixiu needed to prove himself to all the archdukes of the Nine Hells. He had to hold the River of Blood front firm; only then would he be qualified to sit in this seat.
Whether that Lord of Hell had already awoken or not, Anbaixiu had to fight a magnificent battle. Otherwise, all his efforts would come to nothing.
"So, what is your plan? Those demons have sharp noses. With changes so obvious, they must already know, and the first assault will arrive shortly."
Anbaixiu smiled. "My plan is actually quite simple. Isn't Bel the commander of the River of Blood front? All he has to do is his job."
Salvador looked at Anbaixiu. He knew his old adversary was holding back the truth, but the scribe did not intend to expose him.
Doing this much was already the limit of his courtesy; the rest was up to this fellow's performance.
In any case, no matter the circumstance, this guy always had an endless supply of trump cards up his sleeve.
"May your hellfire burn eternal. But remember: if any organized demon force breaks through the River of Blood front, the army of Dis will march into your domain and crush you along with them."
Leaving those words behind, Salvador dissipated into smoke.
The smile faded from Anbaixiu's face, and with a teleportation, he appeared atop the highest point of the Blood River Fortress.
Suspended in the sky, Anbaixiu looked down across the entire battlefield.
He did not understand military command, yet even he could see that something was amiss across the Blood River battlefield.
Vast swathes of the combat zone were being hit with large-scale coordinated magical barrages. It looked as though the demons were being fiercely suppressed, but under normal circumstances, such methods were never deployed so freely.
Demons were limitless; the Blood River battlefield was a war of attrition. The strategy was to wear them down steadily, stalling for time wherever possible and holding ground firmly, without caring much about exact kill counts.
Hence, large-scale lethal measures were usually held in reserve as trump cards.
And right now, those trump cards were being revealed one after another.
For the moment, the demons could not break through, but the strain on the River of Blood front was visibly escalating.
Anbaixiu quickly flew to the front line and found Bel bravely slaughtering the enemy.
As the commander of the Blood River Fortress, Bel's personal prowess was not the highest among archdukes, but he was a deity after all; slaughtering demons was still as effortless as chopping melons and vegetables.
While leading his personal guard in a bloody struggle, Bel suddenly felt an immense magical aura approaching.
Turning around, he saw Anbaixiu appearing in a brand-new form.
Bel shouted agitatedly, "Deceiver, it's you?! Where is Zariel?!"
Anbaixiu chuckled softly. With a flick of his finger, boundless might descended upon Bel, slamming the colossal devil commander violently into the dirt.
A deity? So what? Anbaixiu was now the master of the First Layer of Hell. Using the planar laws for intricate embroidery was difficult, but simple, brutish oppression through sheer raw power was child's play.
Bel was stunned beyond belief. Wasn't this the power of Hell's laws? How could it have fallen upon this mortal... No way. It couldn't be! Had that lunatic Zariel truly given away Hell's authority to someone else?!
Looking down at Bel kneeling on the ground, Anbaixiu said slowly, "In the past, when you called me the Deceiver, I didn't hold it against you, because I was indeed just a mortal with an ill reputation. But now, what should you call me?"
Bel gritted his teeth as he strained to support his body, but how could he possibly contend against the power of an entire plane? With his bones creaking and groaning, he finally lowered his head and said respectfully, "I was mistaken, esteemed Archduke Deceiver."
Unable to resist, Bel could only submit.
He had never possessed an unyielding character; otherwise, he wouldn't have bowed and scraped before Zariel for all those years. If Zariel still controlled Hell's laws, he wouldn't dare rebel for a second, because the result would be identical: Zariel could finish him with a single finger.
Bel simply had never imagined that the master of Hell's laws would change so easily. What on earth had this mortal done? Fusing with Hell's laws was an immensely arduous feat—even with ten years, Bel might not have mastered them completely, yet this mortal had taken only a few minutes...
Bel was deeply resentful, but it was meaningless, for Anbaixiu held absolute power.
Anbaixiu was pleased with Bel's tact. Releasing the pressure crushing him, he said, "Still 'Deceiver,' but now is not the time to quibble over titles. The demons will soon launch a probing assault. You're a battlefield veteran; you should know what scale to expect."
Bel was no fool and immediately understood Anbaixiu's point.
With the First Layer of Hell changing hands, the demons were bound to take advantage of the chaos. Having fought for countless years, Bel quickly estimated the scale of their impending assault and advised Anbaixiu, "We need to request reinforcements from the other layers of Hell immediately. Based on past experience, the forces at Blood River Fortress are insufficient. We need an influx of at least five hundred thousand elite troops, which can only be drafted on short notice from the other layers."
The elites Bel spoke of were not disorganized stragglers who could only fight when the wind was at their backs, but guard units like Zariel's Hellriders. Only the masters of the various layers of Hell could field genuine armies in such numbers.
Anbaixiu shook his head. "This time, we have no reinforcements. We can only rely on ourselves."
"Then it's impossible to fight!" Bel exclaimed agitatedly. "Resisting the Abyss has always been the concern of all Hell! Without the support of the other archdukes, how can this battle be fought?!"
Anbaixiu sighed, then said, "Don't ask; just do what must be done. As for the manpower you mentioned, I will make up the numbers for you. If they aren't elite units, what quantity would be enough?"
Bel said anxiously, "Numbers are useless! We are facing a demonic horde. Weak devils like the lemures of the wilderness are useless no matter how many there are—the moment they see demons, they scatter in panic."
Anbaixiu asked, "What if there were tens of millions of fearless lemures? What if they possessed such ferocity that even with their heads severed, they would still tear off a mouthful of demon flesh?"
Bel shook his head. "Then they wouldn't be devils."
Anbaixiu chuckled. "Precisely. I wasn't speaking of devils either. Don't forget that before descending to Hell, I was a lich. And what a lich does best is human-wave tactics!"
Chapter 619