This Lich Requests More Remuneration
Chapter 432 - 404: Full Army Retreat

Chapter 432: Chapter 404: Full Army Retreat

The dawn brings the break of day, and the break of day symbolizes justice triumphing over evil, bathing the earth in light.

Arthur Laine’s sword stroke did not require much effort, but it effortlessly sliced through the body of the Celestial Warrior.

A Celestial Warrior, made of Holy Light energy, should be immune to such injuries, but for some reason, Arthur’s seemingly insignificant sword stroke resulted in an unhealable wound.

Lombarton Buto’s body split apart and fell into the sea, and although it could still float on the surface, it couldn’t heal no matter what.

But Lombarton Buto did not struggle; instead, he looked towards his opponent, who had flown back into the sky, and said weakly, "So it was you."

Arthur Laine did not admit his identity but instead conveyed a soul link to his once comrade-in-arms. Both were Heroic Spirits, and like the Undead, they could communicate by soul link.

"Lombarton, it’s been a long time."

Lombarton Buto’s eyes shed tiny sparks of gold, much like tears.

"Arthur, big brother, I’ve been waiting for you in the Divine Realm for seventeen hundred years. I knew you wouldn’t just disappear."

"I’m sorry, Lombarton, I couldn’t protect you guys back then."

Arthur Laine’s body trembled; Lombarton Buto was only sixteen when he sacrificed himself, always looking up to Arthur Laine as if he was his own elder brother. There were over a dozen youths like him, all of whom entrusted their lives to Arthur Laine, but only two survived in the end.

But not every one of the fallen youths believed in the Lord of the Dawn, nor did they all smoothly enter the kingdom of the Deity. Many even had their souls obliterated, leaving no trace of their existence.

But that’s the cruel nature of war, destroying the finest things in life right before your eyes, and you’re utterly powerless to stop it.

"It’s okay, we have never regretted stepping onto the battlefield, nor have we ever regretted following you to overthrow tyranny. We... forget it, my time is running short. Arthur, big brother, we’ll wait for you in the Divine Realm. This time, you can’t miss the appointment again!"

Lombarton Buto did not ask why Arthur Laine was working for a Lich, he trusted Arthur unconditionally, just as he did seventeen hundred years ago. No matter what changes occurred in the Mortal Realm, as long as Arthur Laine was present, the hope represented by the dawn would never fade.

Lombarton Buto’s body completely shattered, turning into thousands of golden lights flying towards the sky. The Celestial Warrior, at last, returned to the Divine Realm of the Lord of the Dawn.

Not only the Laine People were shocked; everyone who saw this scene was stunned.

In many people’s eyes, strength is judged by sight. It’s like the idea of a needle piercing elephant skin; if an elephant can crush a warrior, then you holding that needle should be able to defeat a warrior.

In essence, it’s a rudimentary sense of strength comparison. If you can beat this person, then none of his defeated subordinates should be a match for you; otherwise, you were just careless, or you were playing a fixed match.

Without knowing Arthur Laine’s identity, that light-as-feather sword stroke severed the Celestial Warrior’s body, making the Laine People feel an unbelievable sense of unreality.

A question arose in their hearts: "Why?"

How could this Paladin, who didn’t even dare to reveal his name, manage to do something that an entire legion supplemented by the power of seven Legendary beings could not, striking down a Celestial Warrior with a single sword blow?

But in Amberser’s hundreds of years of experience, even a Grease Spell could cause a Legendary warrior to fall to his death on the spot, given the right timing and arrangements... It’s never been the case that being battle-hardened guarantees victory over a novice, nor that defeating a hundred strong fighters means you can’t lose in an unexpected ambush.

Amberser couldn’t understand; he had always been out of touch with the Holy Light, but he could discern that the power Arthur Laine wielded with that sword stroke was minimal, far less than what the Celestial Warrior possessed by several hundredfold.

But it’s okay if he doesn’t understand because he has an expert in battle beside him—the Headless Knight, Gareth.

Gareth was a devoted viewer of the battle and, when Amberser asked, he explained, "It’s a very clever sword technique, a masterful control of Holy Light. He didn’t cut through the body of the Celestial Warrior but merged his own Holy Light into it, interfering with the flow of Holy Light within the Celestial Warrior."

Amberser had an epiphany: it was like sticking a gear that didn’t fit into machinery, causing the machinery to explode due to operational failure. Or like Amberser’s own forced modification tactics, jamming a multitude of parts into the Eternal Hourglass, not only failing to strengthen the Divine Artifact but actually damaging its power.

While the principle sounded simple, using one’s Holy Light to interfere with the operation of someone else’s Holy Light was virtually fanciful.

Take Mages for example; even with the power of the Golden Throne, Amberser could only cast powerful spells, not send his own magic power into another Mage’s body to disrupt their magic flow.

It’s not doable; it’s hundreds of times more difficult than killing a Mage.

"Arthur Laine’s control over Holy Light can be said to be unsurpassed among mortals. Isn’t it clear that he’s the Chosen of the Lord of the Dawn?" Gareth remarked wistfully, "I would really like to have a match with him!"

Amberser gave Gareth a look that said ’don’t even think about it.’ He would never allow Gareth to fight with Arthur Laine, not even a friendly match.

Arthur Laine was in a Heroic Spirit state, and each fight greatly depleted his soul energy, which was replenished by Amberser. To have one fight would mean Amberser had to pay to recharge, and fighting someone like Gareth would be like waging a war that could bankrupt a nation, costing Amberser dearly.

If Gareth’s itching for a fight, he should go take on those giant dragons for fun—don’t mess with Arthur Laine.

Without Gareth’s expert explanation, everyone on the sea from Laine was immersed in the recent defeat, taking several seconds to even begin to respond.

Meanwhile, Arthur Laine had already resurfaced, hovering in mid-air.

"I’ll say it again, leave now, and no one will get hurt, but if you insist on continuing, I can’t guarantee that."

Arthur Laine’s words turned Cyril Rolan’s face bright red with shame; he had never imagined he would be defeated so miserably, everyone’s combined strength wasn’t even a match for his effortless swing of a sword—could this man be even stronger than the Silvermoon Knights?

Could it be that he really had to admit defeat?

Cyril Rolan gripped his divine sword tightly, now floating on the sea surface, and drifted in front of Arthur Laine.

"Who exactly are you? There exists such a powerful paladin in the world and yet, I have no knowledge of you— are you truly one of the Laine People? Even if it costs me my life, I need to know the answer."

Cyril Rolan was not afraid; since the day he became a paladin, he had been prepared to make sacrifices.

No matter how powerful this man before him was, it would not make him falter; he just desperately wanted to know the truth.

Before that celestial warrior disappeared, he had said, "So, it’s you."

The celestial warrior knew this paladin before him; therefore, it was very likely he was not an imposter—he really was a follower of the Lord of the Dawn. But why, why would he serve as a henchman for a lich? Cyril Rolan could hardly believe that the Holy Light would favor a paladin working for a lich.

This concerned his faith, and he couldn’t die without understanding why.

Arthur Laine hesitated; he didn’t know how to respond.

Seventeen hundred years ago, he was never one for smooth talking, and with so many years having passed, remaining mostly in seclusion within a barrier and having hardly spoken to anyone, he found it difficult to come up with an excuse on the spot.

The more he spoke, the greater the risk of exposing his identity, and once his identity was revealed, within days Laine would be completely fractured, followed by a relentless attack from neighboring countries, falling into the flames of war, resulting in the deaths of thousands because of him.

Arthur couldn’t help but look up, gazing at the sky shrouded in darkness. If it were that lich, perhaps he could answer this question, right?

Amberser did not disappoint Arthur Laine, as a triumphant laughter echoed from the lich across the sky.

"Foolish paladins, did you really think you lost so badly because my underlings were stronger? Are there warriors more powerful than your Silvermoon Knights in this world?"

Cyril Rolan frowned in deep thought—if they had been defeated so severely, now claiming that the opponent was not strong was outright mocking him!

Amberser never gave anyone time to think, continuing, "Before the battle began, I said, ’Let’s see whether your Holy Light represents justice, or if my subordinates stand on the side of righteousness.’ Now it’s quite apparent; the reason you lost is because righteousness is on my side.

"My subordinate might be formidable, but not to the extent that he could single-handedly crush the seven legendary figures of Laine; don’t you understand yet? The Lord of the Dawn is telling you that justice is with us. Hence, with the same Holy Light, my subordinate can solve the problem with one sword strike, while your desperately gathered strength is so fragile."

"Don’t you get it? The Lord of the Dawn is on my side, It is influencing the outcome of this battle! At this moment, I, the lich, am the Chosen of the Holy Light!"

At these last words from Amberser, all the Laine People’s eyes widened, and even Cyril Rolan almost failed to retain his grip on the Blood of Rosanda. The Glorious General clasped his chest, a strong sense of suffocation overwhelming him, causing his vision to darken.

This lich claims to be the Chosen of the Lord of the Dawn?

If any other lich had said this, Cyril Rolan would have scoffed and slashed with his sword, but now he found no reason to refute it.

Cyril Rolan felt the foundations of his beliefs, which he amassed over fifty years, crumbling.

If the lich represented justice, then what was he?

Just as he began to stagger, a strong arm caught his arm.

"Wake up, Cyril! This is that lich’s lie!" The voice of his close friend Lucas exploded in his ear, finally bringing back a sliver of sanity to Cyril Rolan.

With the last of his strength, Cyril squeezed out a command: "All forces, retreat!"

It wasn’t that he lacked the courage to strike at his enemy; he simply didn’t know whom he should strike at. A retreat would at least allow him to calm down and think things through.