This Lich is a Better Landlord Chapter 114

The Elven race was preparing for the negotiation, and so was Ambrose.

Contact with the Desert Dwarves had already been made. They were preparing to send over the first batch of Dwarven Iron Guards, and the first batch of immigrants had already gathered at the border. Ambrose helped select a few plots of wasteland, preparing to break ground and build a city.

Ambrose didn't need to worry about city construction; the Desert Dwarves were expert builders. Give them three days, and they could raise the city walls for you.

What Ambrose needed to do was "persuade" the nearby lords to welcome the desert immigrants with open arms.

Actually, it wasn't difficult. The Dwarven Iron Guards, plus Ambrose's skeleton army, teleported to the northern border. After simply marching around a few times, Ambrose received their non-aggression pacts.

There really were many peace-loving good people out there. Orc tribes, Lizardfolk lords, human nobles—all expressed a warm welcome to the dwarven immigrants and offered humanitarian care to these war refugees.

Interestingly, the first batch of immigrants sent by the dwarves were also Orcs, Lizardfolk, and Humans, matching the races of the surrounding lords exactly.

Ambrose thought that the Hand of the King, Hoffman Ironfist, was a smart man.

The greatest advantage of the Golden Kingdom was its open and free policy, very similar to the former City of Alchemy.

This first batch of immigrants could integrate perfectly into the existing environment, making the subsequent large-scale immigration much easier to accept.

Within just a few days, the immigrant Orcs had run off to wrestle with the indigenous tribes, the Lizardfolk were rolling in the mud with their kin, and as for the humans... well, not every race was so welcoming of their own kind.

Although there were minor accidents, generally speaking, the relationship between the immigrants and the surrounding lords was quite good.

The Golden Kingdom actually didn't want to fight a war on two fronts either. After all, the Ryan Empire had beaten them to the point where they had almost no strength to fight back. Diverting troops to the rear to open up the map was a very difficult task for the Desert Dwarves too.

So Hoffman Ironfist told Ambrose directly: handle the immigration with a soft touch if possible; it would be best if there was no fierce resistance. This idea coincided perfectly with Ambrose's thoughts. The two sides coordinated tacitly, suppressing the chaos on the City of Alchemy's side as much as possible.

The result was a strange phenomenon: the Golden Kingdom as foreign invaders and Ambrose as the evil undead hadn't killed many people between them. Instead, the local lords, amidst the chaos of the general environment, were slaughtering each other back and forth, causing quite a few casualties.

One couldn't really blame these lords for being crazy.

Imagine: your family has passed down this tiny territory for hundreds of years. Rarely does an opportunity arise where your weak neighbor loses the Emperor's protection and becomes food right by your mouth. Who could resist in this situation?

Regardless of whether the Desert Dwarves ruled in the end or the elves engaged in extermination, the larger one's faction, the more qualified they were to negotiate. Only by possessing power could one control one's own destiny. This was human nature; who would hand their fate over to others?

Even the Flayed Duke, who had been bamboozled, couldn't quite sit still and sent someone to ask Ambrose for instructions. Naturally, Ambrose wouldn't let this follower of Pain come out to cause trouble. He still used "everything is part of the plan" to fool him, ordering him to guard his territory and not initiate war.

As a result, after some time, a rumor began to circulate among the various indigenous lords—a mad Lich was maintaining world peace.

Achieving this level as a Lich could be considered unique in history.

However, the effect was visibly good. The war was confined to a very small scope, and because of the intervention of Ambrose and the dwarves, many restless lords had to choose to watch from the sidelines.

Otherwise, the dwarven army and Ambrose's undead army would hold a "military parade" outside their territories. These small lords had no other way but to surrender.

Now, it all depended on the situation with the Elven race.

Ambrose had been waiting for the Elven race's reply. For this, he even postponed the transaction with the dwarves; Cicero and the other elves should have been sent to the desert days ago. This wasn't easy for Ambrose, as the dwarves had bid a million gold coins, a very good price.

But the Elven race delayed their reply, making Ambrose feel a bit impatient.

Calculating the time, that little girl Naya should have returned to the Silvermoon High Court long ago, and the letter should have been delivered to the Elven Queen. If they refused to negotiate, Ambrose wouldn't be surprised, but the elves merely paused the Twilight Guards' actions without giving Ambrose a reply, which seemed very suspicious.

Over the past two days, Ambrose considered whether to personally visit the Silvermoon High Court. But before he could make up his mind to act, Ambrose suddenly had a strange feeling.

"Someone is prying into my fate?"

Meanwhile, in the Royal Palace of the Silvermoon High Court, a massive magic circle took shape under the magical control of dozens of elven elders. Enormous power pushed the magic circle, which resembled a wheel of fate, to rotate continuously.

This was a magical ritual created by the Elven race with much effort. After continuous modifications by several generations, it could use a simple method to probe into anything they wanted to know.

Using so many elven elders to cast the spell simultaneously was a very high-spec treatment, reserved for major events concerning the survival of the Elven race.

The Wheel of Fate was turning. The letter in the center of the magic circle was being corroded and crushed bit by bit by magical energy. The aura of Ambrose remaining on it became the anchor for the Wheel of Fate. As the wheel turned, Ambrose's life would be revealed.

An image gradually appeared in the magic circle, showing Ambrose sitting in his castle. His skeletal face was as still as an ancient well; only his eyes emitted the glow of soul fire.

The old king stood aside, carefully examining the image displayed by the magic circle.

*This is the Lich who wrote the letter?*

He looked ordinary, no different from common Liches.

But at the moment their eyes met, the hollow eyes of this Lich seemed to penetrate the barrier of time and space, landing on the old king.

The old king lived up to his reputation as a veteran Legend powerhouse; he immediately sensed something was wrong.

The Lich before him was surprisingly not a phantom of the past; his gaze was tangible.

"What's happening? Is there a problem with the operation of the magic circle?" the old king asked hurriedly.

The elven elders hurriedly checked carefully but found nothing amiss. The Wheel of Fate was still spinning smoothly. With just a bit more effort, the scene before them would begin to rewind, revealing the past life of this Lich.

Once enough "past" was collected, they could try to deduce the future. If everything went smoothly, they could completely predict the outcome of the negotiation.

But just as they prepared to act, the phantom of the Lich displayed in the center of the magic circle suddenly moved.

Clearly just a projection of a certain moment, yet at this time, it seemed to come alive. The Lich snapped his fingers at the group of elves.

In the next second, the Wheel of Fate began to spin uncontrollably.

Looking at the panicked eyes of those elven elders, the old king immediately understood that something had gone wrong.

Unfortunately, he was not skilled in magic, so he could only watch now, unable to intervene at all.

The group of elven elders turned pale with fright; they didn't even know what had happened. The magic circle hadn't been destroyed, and the Wheel of Fate was still running, but it had completely broken free from their control.

Seizing control of their prepared magical ritual in an instant—this was simply incredible.

But no matter how hard they tried, the Wheel of Fate was like a fickle lover, completely indifferent, throwing itself ruthlessly into another's embrace.

An elven elder had to tell the old king the terrible truth: "The ritual has been hijacked. It is now completely out of control."

"Can't you cut off the mana supply?" the old king asked.

"We already cut it off long ago. The operation of the magical ritual isn't being powered by us right now."

The old king's expression changed drastically. This sounded too absurd.

The opponent not only seized control of the magical ritual instantly but could also supply mana to this magic circle across such a vast distance?

The elves were in chaos, while Ambrose sat in his castle, watching everything before him with great interest.

After seizing control of the opponent's magical ritual, Ambrose could see everything happening on the elves' side.

They actually wanted to pry into his fate? He really didn't know which screw was loose in these elves' heads. He was a true darling of fate. Even though they had broken up ruthlessly, the Power of Fate still tried every possible way to get back together with him; it simply loved him to death.

You say this is Loviatar's trap?

Heh, a trap is also a part of fate.

It sounds impressive, but you either believe none of it or believe all of it; there is no middle ground with this stuff.

This Wheel of Fate magical ritual looked quite impressive, but in Ambrose's eyes, it was just a clumsy trick of forced performance. None of the elves before him truly mastered the power of prophecy; they were just simulating it through this magical ritual.

It was like artificially building a dam, wanting to influence and redirect the water flow. Under normal circumstances, it worked. But if the water flow had its own will, no matter how high or strong the dam you built, it was meaningless, because the flood could ignore the restrictions of the river channel and flow directly upstream.

Ambrose had regained the Legendary rank power of Fate. For these elves to play prophecy in front of him was equivalent to showing off magic before Mystra.

Ambrose stroked his chin, thinking about the reason the elves were doing this.

Compared to the entire Elven race, he was just a mere Legend Lich. Was there a need to treat him with such ceremony? What reason exactly made these elves expend so much manpower and resources to investigate his intelligence?

If the Elven race's behavior defied common sense, then there must be a reason that defied common sense.

"Heh, could it be related to the reason they started this war?"

Ambrose's finger gently traced a circle. On the elves' side, they saw the Wheel of Fate spin madly. Scenes emerged from it one after another, and the face of the Elven Queen, Catherine, became increasingly clear.

An elven elder shouted, "Oh no, he's using the power of fate in reverse to pry into our secrets!"

The old king roared, "Destroy this magic circle, immediately!"

However, the elven elder said helplessly, "We can't destroy it. This magic circle was designed with effects to prevent external interruption. Even if we destroy this place, we cannot affect the operation of the Wheel of Fate."

The old king said angrily, "Is there no emergency stop function?! How do you maintain this usually!"

The elven elder was even more helpless, explaining, "Of course there is, but the premise is that the control of the magic circle is still in our hands. Who could have thought that the observed person could turn around and control the Wheel of Fate?"

At this critical moment, Elven Queen Catherine appeared in this secret room.

The elves hurriedly bowed, but Catherine had no time to respond.

She gathered her mana and injected it into the Wheel of Fate, attempting to interfere with the magic circle's operation and directly destroy the structure within using brute force. Both Catherine and Ambrose were Legend-rank casters. Although Catherine was not skilled in the power of fate, destruction was always easier than maintenance for her.

The two sides, who hadn't even met yet, engaged in a magical confrontation across thousands of miles. This was an accident no one had expected.

But Catherine couldn't back down. The secret of the Elven race absolutely could not be known by the other party.

After a long time, the rotation speed of the Wheel of Fate slowed down, and the constantly flashing lights and shadows disappeared.

Catherine withdrew her hands, covered in sweat. The old king hurriedly stepped forward to ask, "How is the situation? Is the secret kept?"

Catherine nodded. "It should be kept."

"That's good, that's good." The old king said with lingering fear.

But Catherine shook her head with a bitter smile. "I didn't stop him. He gave up voluntarily."

"What did you say?"

The old king's face was full of surprise. He hadn't expected that even Catherine's intervention failed to stop him, but what did it mean that the other party suddenly gave up voluntarily?

"I couldn't control this magic circle. That Lich returned the control of the magic circle on his own initiative. He said..." Catherine hesitated for a moment, then continued, "He said this is his sincerity, hoping the negotiation can proceed smoothly."

The old king frowned, unsure whether to believe the other party's words.

"Did he really not discover our secret?" the old king pressed.

Catherine nodded. "I can be certain of this. The Wheel of Fate did not reveal the secret of Magic Addiction; all related information hasn't been displayed yet."

"That's good, that's good."

The old king breathed a sigh of relief. It was a great fortune amidst misfortune. But after experiencing this, they had to renegotiate their strategy for the talks. This Lich was much more terrifying than imagined; truly worthy of being a member of The Elegy Society.

As for Ambrose, he was currently opening the *Codex of the Undead* and writing furiously: [Friends, I know the secret of the Elven race. You definitely won't believe it when I say it.]

The Wheel of Fate indeed hadn't displayed the Elven race's secret, but... after Ambrose came into contact with Catherine's mana, he used her mana as an anchor to pry into her life.

There was no need for a dozen people sitting in a circle performing some ritual. Ambrose needed only a thought, and hundreds of Dice of Fate could unveil the veil of destiny for him, displaying the Elven race's secret before him.

Catherine, lacking Ambrose's sensitivity to fate, knew nothing of this.

Now that Ambrose had grasped the Elven race's greatest secret, the plan for negotiation needed to be changed.