This Lich Requests More Remuneration
Chapter 417 - 389: Sure to Win

Chapter 417: Chapter 389: Sure to Win

"Can this Light Priest you defend save as many people as this Lich?"

This question was preposterous, yet James Watson was at a loss for words. He really had grown old, his mind not as sharp as before, unable to see through even the most essential truths.

Back when he was the Supreme Decree, James Watson was firm in issuing a pardon for Amberser. The reason was simple: if a Lich had saved lives, by the rules, he should be absolved.

But after retiring, James Watson increasingly felt that Laine was on the decline, and consequently, he began to put aside the laws of Laine. With his lifelong standards gone, he naturally became confused.

Now, pointed out by his son Kaid, James Watson finally realized how serious his issues were.

Kaid Watson, looking at his father’s aged face, mustered his courage with the help of alcohol and said, "Father, you have retirement syndrome. All retired old men have it to some extent. Leaving the familiar environment, you start to not know what to do, and the mood gets worse and worse. I suggest you still think of yourself as the Supreme Decree, just on vacation..."

James Watson angrily interrupted, "What kind of nonsense is this, offices are granted by others, not for deceiving oneself, aren’t you teaching me to delude myself!"

Kaid Watson looked helpless; he knew it would be so. Since childhood, he had never adapted to such a regimented life. He had always been the child his father liked least because of his lenient nature.

"Father, assume I am wrong, but I still insist on one point: this Lich is a savior of the world, no matter how you look at it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Lord of the Dawn blessed him tomorrow. Don’t be fooled by him."

Having said the last, Kaid Watson quickly ended the communication.

James Watson looked at the Magic Mirror that had lost its signal and sighed helplessly. Had he really misunderstood this Lich?

With that question in mind, James Watson boarded a ship and left. Regardless, his confused self had no right to pass judgment here.

Unconsciously, everyone who knew Amberser had developed different biases about him.

In the eyes of most Laine People, Amberser had always been the quintessential Undead, cruel, evil, and powerful, an enemy that required Laine to fight with all its might.

In the eyes of those Goddesses who had been deceived by him, Amberser was someone who should be deified just for his talking; his every word was a blade to slay gods, like a cleaver Aeo specially used to tempt deities into sin. The experiences of both Goddesses, Rose and Shael, had proved everything.

For the Undead, however, Amberser was the wisest one who had countered Laine with the most vicious means and the best effects for over a thousand years. Have you ever heard of the Supreme Decree defecting? Or that the Saint Emperor’s Spirit had been led astray? He was Laine’s bane, the most outstanding and typical of the Undead.

But in the eyes of those like Kaid Watson, who lived more lucidly, Amberser was a kind-hearted Lich who, despite his cruel and malicious words, always embarked on deeds that saved the world.

Ending wars between two nations, saving kingdoms from falling into Hell, and decimating invaders from the Star Realm... His achievements were almost equal to the heroes of the Magic Dragon war era.

But regardless of the point of view, they were all just parts of Amberser.

Amberser had lived in this world for several centuries, met innumerable people, and witnessed countless stories, eventually reaching one conclusion.

Every intelligent Race shares the same nature; there’s no such thing that Elves embody only beauty, humans only greed, or Dwarves only simplicity.

At most, due to racial influence, there might be a stronger inclination toward certain traits.

Among humans, Dragons, who never knew regret, were easy to find, and extreme actions stemming from extreme religious beliefs, like in Laine’s history, had played out in many ways across various places.

The Impure Chant, on the other hand, also had its day when it tortured Hell Knights, engaging in mutual denunciations and white terror, no one nobler than anyone else.

Every kind of crime would appear in every country because these are the weaknesses of human nature.

Long ago, Amberser had discarded such so-called racial stances, for only the Gold Coin in hand knew no good or evil.

If the Laine People came to kill him, Amberser would manage to maximize the benefits from the situation instead of fretting over whether their actions were right or wrong.

Amberser did two rounds on the island, arranging for the Specters to replenish the Magic Array’s Magic Power and repair the damaged parts, then retreated to his private space.

As James Watson said, Amberser had set the stage this time to establish his authority; it was in his plan for Laine People to cause trouble. He couldn’t avoid battle, and he had to win spectacularly, making everyone understand that even Laine couldn’t handle him, this Lich. Anyone who wanted to mess with Amberser should weigh whether they could surpass the might of the Paladin of the Laine Empire.

Only, Amberser hadn’t expected Laine to dispatch seven Legends, a Divine Artifact, and a whole legion... this force was enough to fight another Impure Chant extermination war.

Now he would have to adjust the original plan to ensure it was foolproof.

Amberser was preparing in his private space, while the Laine dispatched its army had just boarded the outbound ship.

After the disappearance of the Impure Chant, the Laine People had the coastline just a short distance beyond the border. They did not need to spend time building any docks; they simply constructed a Teleportation Circle, transferred the built galleons, and set sail directly.

The Laine People were not short of money.

Their formidable national strength drove them to victory after victory, and the half-desert they had swallowed kept providing Laine with gold dug up from underground.

Laine may have seemingly lost a battle on the surface, but what was truly affected was only morale; the impact on the nation’s strength was not significant.

The legion consisted of a thousand elite soldiers, with Mages, Rangers, and other professions fully equipped, and a considerable number of Light Priests capable of casting those powerful group spells.

Because they were all elites, the supplies were of the highest quality with Spatial Pouches and Teleportation Circles, so there were no support troops within the legion, only the most elite soldiers.

The team of seven leading the mission were all Legendary figures. Combined with such a fully-armed elite legion, taking down a Lich was truly too simple — at least according to common sense, Amberser could only run, for he could not possibly be a match for this legion.

Therefore, Cyril Rolan, who was the commander of this expedition, was very confident.

Cyril Rolan, who had just turned fifty-five this year and became a Legendary Paladin at forty-two, was considered to have exceptional talent. Cyril Rolan was also the leader of the Conviction Knight Order, leading his troops to slaughter countless Undead and monsters, his longsword having slain innumerable followers of the Evil God.

This time, the sword in his hand was the Blood of Rosanda, the former Holy King’s sidearm.

It was rumored that after slaying the Magic Dragon, the Holy King received the blessing of the Lord of the Dawn by infusing a drop of the Deity’s fresh blood into his sidearm, creating the Blood of Rosanda.

While its fame might be less than that of the Magic Dragon Armament, the Blood of Rosanda was the true treasure that all Paladins dreamt of obtaining.

The Magic Dragon Armament was bound to the Royal Family, useable only by those of Arthur Laine’s bloodline, whereas the Blood of Rosanda represented the highest honor the Paladins could aim for.

Previously, only Silvermoon Knights were qualified to wield it, and each use required an extremely tedious and solemn ceremony to bring this Divine Sword out from the sanctified chapel where it was enshrined.

After years of faith’s cleansing, the Blood of Rosanda had become even more potent than before; simply by grasping the hilt, Cyril Rolan could feel his inner Force of the Holy Light responding, making him stronger than ever.

This feeling of power also gave Cyril Rolan a sense of pressure. He was embarking on a campaign with the Blood of Rosanda, and should he fail, it would be an indelible crime.

"Cough, cough, check again to see if everyone’s equipment is functioning, whether the supplies are sufficient, and if anyone is seasick..."

Cyril Rolan paced the ship repeatedly, compulsively checking everything several times over.

This nervous habit prompted his deputy to remind him, "Cyril, you should rest a bit. We are using magic to accelerate our voyage and expect to reach the Undead’s location in just three days. If you’re like this now, will you even have the energy to draw your sword when we encounter the Undead?"

Upon hearing this, Cyril Rolan replied helplessly, "I know, but I can’t help it. I can hardly let go of the sword hilt now; we cannot lose."

His deputy hurriedly said, "We won’t lose! No Undead can withstand the Blood of Rosanda. Trust the power of the Lord of the Dawn, believe that He stands behind us."

Taking a few deep breaths, Cyril Rolan nodded and said, "You’re right; I’ll go to the bow to get some fresh air."

Leaving the sultry cabin, Cyril Rolan came to the bow of the ship.

The giant ship, capable of carrying a thousand people, was very stable with only the Sea Wind blowing, hardly causing any turbulence.

After a while in the wind, Cyril Rolan felt much calmer. For a veteran commander, it wasn’t fitting to be so nervous, but the thought of the honor at stake for the reputation of the Lord of the Dawn made it hard for Cyril Rolan not to feel tense.

Just as Amberser had guessed, the artifact was of such importance, it was enough to make even Legendary figures forget themselves.

While Cyril Rolan was breathing in the fresh air, he suddenly squinted his eyes.

He sensed an unusual presence, emanating from the depths of the ocean.

The next second, dozens of enormous tentacles burst through the surface of the water, intending to bind the ship.

"Sea monster!" shouted the soldier on the lookout tower belatedly, starting to sound the horn.

This ship, powered by magic, was swift, and it had already left the coastline not long after setting sail.

But the ocean was never short of gigantic sea monsters, although it was unexpected that they would attack so soon.

Cyril Rolan eyed the tentacles thicker than pillars, took a deep breath, and raised his right hand.

"Holy Light, in your name, eradicate the evil within!"

With a powerful roar from Cyril Rolan, endless Holy Light surged from within him, transforming into countless swords of white gold light.

The rain of swords fell, instantly severing all tentacles, and the creature hidden in the Deep Sea emitted a piercing scream, quickly targeted by the swords of light and then sliced into shreds.

As the mutilated corpse of the sea monster surfaced, Cyril Rolan’s right hand returned to rest on the hilt of the sword.

This time, victory was certain! The Lich would meet the same fate as the sea monster, obliterated under the baptism of the Holy Light.