This Lich is a Better Landlord Chapter 76

Although Liches can continuously be reborn, very few would choose to detonate their own bodies unless they were in a truly desperate situation.

A Lich's body is created by continuously condensing dark magic; it is a high-ranking undead entity in its own right. The mana Ambrose needed for spellcasting was all accumulated bit by bit over time.

Such a body was no less precious than a [Phylactery].

At any time, having one's body destroyed is a heavy blow to a Lich, so no one expected Ambrose to self-destruct right then and there.

Dark magic, compressed to its absolute limit, erupted instantly. It formed a pitch-black tidal wave that swept in all directions, engulfing every [Automaton] that had been summoned.

Where the black wave passed, the air began to fill with a suffocating stench. Countless twisted, deformed monstrosities manifested—two-headed spiders, tumor-like centipedes, worms covered in eyes... These grotesque creatures were not physical entities but curses formed from the excessive concentration of dark magic.

Just as rotting matter gathers to produce toxic gas, when the concentration of dark magic reaches a certain point, it naturally generates vicious curses.

Even the lifeless [Automatons] were rapidly corroded within this black wave, rotting into scrap iron in mere moments.

Dippel could only continuously use his legendary power to repair his personal mount; otherwise, it too would have been corroded by Ambrose's decisive self-destruction.

The surging black wave lasted for two or three minutes. After it dissipated, only a field of rusty wreckage remained.

Dippel looked at the debris covering the ground and let out a vicious curse.

However, Ambrose could no longer hear him. After the self-destruction, his consciousness had already broken through the spatial blockade and returned to his [Phylactery].

The Lich's [Phylactery] is a very special object.

Many people mistakenly believe that the [Phylactery] is the Lich's weakness, the place where the soul is housed.

This is not actually the case. The Lich's soul always resides in the body; otherwise, how could they react quickly enough to cast spells instantly? Remote control would definitely have latency.

Ambrose's soul fire had always been in his body. It was only after his body was destroyed that he could break through any blockade and transport his soul fire directly into the prepared [Phylactery].

The [Phylactery] is an exit strategy, an absolute escape tunnel.

In the history of the continent, no one has ever been able to sever the connection between a Lich's soul and their [Phylactery]. Dimensional Anchors, spatial isolation, banishment... none of these can block the [Phylactery]'s escape effect.

A [Wish] spell might work, but no one would use a [Wish] for such a boring desire.

Once the soul enters the [Phylactery], the Lich can begin rebirth.

The time required for rebirth depends on the Lich's preparations. If a new body has been prepared in advance, rebirth can be swift, and there won't be much difference in strength. This is the most terrifying aspect of a Lich: just when you've exhausted your mana and drank all your potions, he resurrects on the spot. This is a nightmare for the vast majority of adventurers.

That is why the saying circulates throughout [The Nine Great Kingdoms]: You must first find the Lich's [Phylactery] to kill a Lich, otherwise, it is a waste of effort.

Ambrose's soul returned to his [Phylactery]. It was a space slightly larger than an ordinary coffin.

Dark magic, condensed almost into a liquid state, filled the space. Ambrose began to rapidly absorb this dark magic to prepare for rebirth.

This would undoubtedly be a long process, but there was no helping it. Ambrose hadn't been a Lich for long. Unlike those old fogies who had been around for thousands of years, he didn't have that much time to prepare, so rebirth was troublesome.

But it wasn't a big problem. His [Phylactery] was in a very safe state and wouldn't be discovered.

It wasn't just because Ambrose had made many fakes. In reality, these so-called fakes were all shells for the [Phylactery]. Ambrose's true [Phylactery] wasn't hidden inside a single shell but constantly teleported between these shells.

Every mithril box had a spatial magic circle inscribed inside by Ambrose. Besides expanding the storage space, they also had a mutual teleportation effect.

As long as a mithril box wasn't opened in the normal way, the spatial magic circle inside would be destroyed, and the true [Phylactery] would never teleport into that broken empty shell.

Besides that, there were many additional restrictions.

For example, if other shells existed within a certain range, the [Phylactery] wouldn't teleport to that location. Only an isolated mithril shell could potentially house the true [Phylactery]. This was mainly to guard against the current situation: his home being demolished and hundreds of phylacteries being piled together, waiting for Ambrose to walk into the trap.

These gathered shells automatically became fakes; the true [Phylactery] would never teleport into this pile of empty shells. Only when they were separated again and stored at a great distance from each other would they become viable teleportation targets again.

There were also rules like not teleporting to a shell near holy light energy, or not teleporting to a shell that had been moved frequently within a certain period... Anyway, he added every setting he could think of.

Therefore, although Ambrose wasn't sure which location his [Phylactery] was in, it was definitely in a safe state.

Actually, there was a better choice. There was a legendary spell called [Aumvor's Fragmented Phylactery]. This truly split the [Phylactery] into countless fragments; as long as one piece remained, the Lich's rebirth was guaranteed. However, Ambrose wasn't skilled enough to cast this spell.

So he could only rely on his imagination and quantity to mimic the [Aumvor's Fragmented Phylactery] spell, a "brute force creates miracles" budget version.

His body was reconstructing bit by bit. The first thing to recover was the skull, the housing for the soul fire. Only with a head could there be anything else.

Although his safety wasn't an issue, being forced to self-destruct by Dippel made Ambrose feel a bit unwilling to accept the outcome.

He had thought that [The City of Alchemy] had focused all its energy on the sewers. He could have escaped the tower first, found a chance to sneak into the sewers, and then waited for an opportunity to seize the final fruit of the [Wish] spell.

He just needed to leave that tower. [The City of Alchemy] was so big; hiding would be too easy.

He had clearly made it to the door, only to be blocked by Dippel.

Was the [Wish] ritual in the sewers really destined not to be his? Those bastards couldn't do this; that was his payment for handing over those paladins. Being scammed out of money—this fact made Ambrose itch all over.

"No, I should calm down. in the previous prophecy, there was a fragment where I appeared in the sewers, presiding over the ritual. At the time, I didn't understand what ritual it was, but now it seems it must be the [Wish] spell. With my personality, I wouldn't jump out to preside over the ritual unless I was certain I could take advantage of it. So, before I respawn, it's impossible for them to complete the ritual.

"The prophecy will definitely come true. Destiny is with me!"

Ambrose comforted himself, waiting quietly for his rebirth.

The skull had slowly grown back, but the dark magic contained in the [Phylactery] was almost exhausted. It felt like he could grow half a neck at most.

"Sigh, if only I had a few hundred more years. Liches are like certain professions; the older they are, the more powerful they become."

Casting [Levitate] on the bone, he pushed open the coffin lid. Ambrose's head left the [Phylactery] and returned to reality.

A large skull popped out of the mithril box, and the moment the box closed, the true [Phylactery] teleported to another location to prevent Ambrose from being spawn-killed.

Ambrose then tried to survey his surroundings, sensing that the situation was a bit off.

Before him was a dimly lit but incredibly opulent room. It seemed to be made entirely of silver, with complicated patterns traced in gold. This wasn't just for luxury; Ambrose recognized at a glance that these patterns were all magic circle lines, layered upon each other, empowered with who knew how many magical effects.

Looking closer, this wasn't ordinary silver and gold, but mithril and adamantine... The value of these materials alone was more than all of Ambrose's phylacteries combined.

"What a luxurious palace. Have I ever been to a place like this? Or was the [Phylactery] I threw away collected by someone and brought here?"

This speculation was very persuasive because Ambrose's [Phylactery] was placed on an altar, also surrounded by complex magic circles.

Ambrose felt the situation wasn't good. This was likely the interior of some spellcaster's mage tower. His luck couldn't be that bad, right? To be killed by someone the moment he respawned?

The dark magic inside the [Phylactery] was used up. If he wanted to be reborn again, it would take at least twenty or thirty years.

"It won't happen. Trust in the arrangement of fate."

Ambrose began to comfort himself with "wealth is determined by heaven" again, preparing to quietly leave this gorgeous room and escape this unfamiliar mage tower.

A wisp of dark magic drifted from Ambrose's mouth, cautiously exploring the surroundings.

Just as it left the range of the altar, the surrounding magic circles emitted a bright light. Next came the sound of a magic scroll burning.

A mass of translucent energy expanded, covering the entire room. Ambrose's head was frozen in the pose of spitting black smoke, unable to move. Even the dark magic he spat out was solidified in mid-air by this transparent energy.

Ambrose's vast knowledge came into play. He immediately recognized this as the effect of the [Time Stop] spell. A quasi-legendary spell capable of sealing things within a certain range, putting them in a state of suspended time. It was called a stop, but it wasn't a true, complete time stop; rather, it drastically slowed the flow of time, making it look like a complete halt.

And this spell was cast via a scroll. That burn just now cost at least five hundred thousand gold coins.

Ambrose felt a bit flattered. Even he wouldn't bear to use five hundred thousand gold coins to protect a single [Phylactery].

And Ambrose, who was just a head, was currently in a weakened state. Even if he knew the way to break the spell, he couldn't use it right now. He could only wait like a bug trapped in amber for someone to release him.

It shouldn't take too long.

To use such high-specification defensive magic meant the other party valued this [Phylactery] greatly. Now that the spell had been triggered, the master of the mage tower should appear soon, right?

Who would it be?

amidst Ambrose's nervous and curious state of mind, a squad of imposing [Death Knights] charged in. They gripped black flame longswords tightly, vigilantly searching for signs of an intruder.

After the [Death Knights] entered, a beauty with a graceful figure, draped in a black robe, appeared at the door of the room.

Upon seeing Ambrose, she revealed a surprised expression. She walked quickly to Ambrose's side and said to the skull, "I thought it was a fake [Phylactery]. You actually gave me the real [Phylactery] for safekeeping?"