This Lich is a Better Landlord Chapter 97

[Withered Rose: You still want to buy mines? The City of Alchemy is a war zone now. Why not just take them? If you offer money, who is going to negotiate a deal with you?]

Ambrose sighed. Indeed, one shouldn't treat others as fools.

Within the Elegy Society, perhaps only the Headless Knight had slightly lower intelligence, being a strength-based knight after all.

The other spellcasters all had to put points into Intelligence; they really weren't that easy to hoodwink.

Ambrose couldn't exactly say it was an excuse to scam some money, so he changed the subject: [Speaking of the issue of contract spirit, those elves came to my neighborhood, forcing those lords to sign contracts to voluntarily relocate. This contract must have some special effect, but my intelligence here is too limited to find out anything.]

[Withered Rose: Signing contracts? Do you know the specific content?]

Ambrose told Withered Rose the contract terms he had heard from the Porcupine Knight. The undead queen seemed to think of something, leaving only a "Wait for my news," and then did not reply further.

Although it was a pity not to scam any money, Ambrose was prepared to prioritize the reproduction of the Quicksilver Effigies.

The Elves were coming aggressively. The Desert Dwarves were being hammered into the ground by the Ryan Empire and looked unreliable. In the end, Ambrose estimated he would have to hold the line alone.

Quicksilver Effigies were the most suitable high-tier unit. Whether in terms of combat power or cultivation cost, they offered the best value for money.

Unfolding the map, there were three mines near Ambrose's territory, but each belonged to a Grand Lord.

Unlike "country bumpkins" like the Porcupine Knight who rose through martial prowess, these three Grand Lords were all major nobles with centuries of heritage, probably even distantly related to members of the Alchemists' Council. While great noble families were prone to producing wastrels and perverts, they also had a huge advantage: accumulated wealth and well-managed territories.

Each of these three Grand Lords had over a thousand soldiers under their command. And these weren't militias trained for a few days, but professional soldiers. Perhaps they weren't fully armored, but they were far stronger than ordinary militia.

Moreover, their territories were complete with watchtowers and city walls, and perhaps a hidden magic cannon or two.

Average people wouldn't dare provoke such Grand Lords, having to guard against being targeted by them instead.

Now that the chaos had just begun, these three were likely conserving strength and waiting. When they made their move, they would surely sweep through the vicinity with lightning speed, eating their fill in one go.

But now, Ambrose had his eyes on their mineral deposits.

"Which one to start with?"

Ambrose carefully recalled the situation of these lords and found he had no impression. He usually liked to stay in his castle doing experiments and had no interactions with these neighbors.

He only remembered that the family crests of these three were a bit special: one was a Hellhound, one was a Thunderstorm, and the last one was interesting—a humanoid figure wrapped in thorns.

If these three family crests were related to faith, then it was very interesting.

The Hellhound went without saying; they must be believers of some Archduke of Hell. The Thunderstorm usually represented Talos, the Lord of Storms. The last one, the thorn-wrapped humanoid, was likely a believer of Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain.

If there was one thing these three faiths had in common, it was probably this—they were all crazy.

Hell needed no explanation; there were no good people there. Evil was their innate label, and those who worshipped the Archdukes of Hell had to regularly offer blood and souls.

Talos, the Lord of Storms, was a powerful, insane god who loved destruction, war, and ruin. Thus, Talos was a niche faith, but anyone willing to practice this god's dogma was a war maniac who loved to destroy everything—not just life, but the creations of civilization.

To destroy everything in the form of a storm was Talos's dogma.

Interestingly, Talos was also a very generous god. Perhaps because he had few followers, Talos was not stingy about sharing divine power. This led to Talos having many Storm Priests under his command.

He was also quite generous to other subordinate gods. For instance, Velsharoon, the God of Liches, was once Talos's underling and could even be said to have attained godhood thanks to Talos's generous sharing.

But the insane exploitation by this mad chief deity was unbearable for Velsharoon. In his words, he "didn't want to be worn through like a frantic infantryman's boot." In the end, Velsharoon had to run away and seek refuge with Azuth, the Patron of Mages.

One wondered what the God of Liches had experienced to say something like "didn't want to be worn through."

But from this story, one could see that the Lord of Storms was a true lunatic; even a Lich couldn't handle him.

The final one, the Maiden of Pain, Loviatar, was also a heavyweight. Let's put it this way: Loviatar was the goddess of all sadists, bullies, and torturers. She loved all torment and pain. If you could accept such pain and feel enjoyment from it, you would receive this goddess's blessing.

If you indulged in pleasure and rejected pain, then Loviatar would personally let you experience what pain meant.

"The City of Alchemy really was free; these three types of lunatics could all become Grand Nobles."

Ambrose lamented for a moment, then suddenly remembered he was a Lich. In the eyes of ordinary people, a Lich was even more terrifying than these three families. They just had somewhat peculiar faiths; they were at least human. A Lich, however, was fully Evil aligned.

Thinking about it that way, it didn't seem so ridiculous.

The City of Alchemy had been impressive to keep these lunatics gathering together in peace for so many years. But now that the City of Alchemy was destroyed and the suppression completely lost, the side effects of this freedom of faith would manifest explosively.

Ambrose studied the map for a long time and decided to trouble the Storm family first.

The reason was simple: they were the closest.

The other two families were a bit far from Ambrose's territory. Not only were there several small lords' territories in between, but the roads were also poor. Even if he could establish a teleportation circle, the distance was still a hassle.

Since all three were crazies anyway, he chose the nearest one.

Ambrose prepared to gather some intelligence first, to see how many troops this major family had and if there were any powerful professions.

Passing by Isabel's laboratory, Ambrose glanced inside again. The girl's efficiency was decent. Although she was just assembling the undead production line step-by-step, she mastered it quickly and hadn't caused any major mess.

The only problem was that as soon as the girl saw him appear, she rushed over shouting "Teacher, Teacher," then picked up her notebook and flipped pages frantically, asking dozens of questions in one breath.

Ambrose had to answer them one by one. After talking for a long time, he realized his departure had been delayed.

But the girl's questions happened to be related to the task. Ambrose couldn't ignore them; that would delay his money-making.

Finally, having answered everything, Isabel took a deep breath and asked Ambrose with newfound courage, "Teacher, thank you for your guidance all this time. I have one last question to ask you."

"The last one? That sounds a bit arrogant," Ambrose said.

Alchemy was such profound knowledge; this little girl would have plenty of chances to ask questions in the future.

"No, no, that's not what I meant..." Isabel was flustered, quickly taking a few more deep breaths before saying to Ambrose, "Teacher, this question might be a bit presumptuous. I want to ask, what does it feel like to become an undead? Is it painful?"

Ambrose looked at Isabel strangely. Why was the girl suddenly asking this?

"Why, have you thought it through and are ready to discard those meaningless worldly desires to reincarnate as an undead?"

If so, Ambrose could help her solve it, but only after the undead production line was done.

"No, I just..." Isabel's face turned pale as she whispered, "I just found out I don't have a choice at all. Working here, isn't the final result to become an undead and be eternally enslaved?"

Ambrose shook his head. "You don't need to worry about that. A true undead transformation ritual is very expensive. If you aren't willing, no one will waste the cost to forcibly turn you into an undead."

Transforming into an undead while retaining original consciousness wasn't cheap. Ambrose had spent most of his fortune when he transformed into a Lich. High-tier undead like Husky (Hales), who were evolving upwards, required continuous investment. High-tier undead with self-awareness had always been expensive.

Isabel was valuable for the alchemy she mastered. Turning her into a common skeleton was meaningless. Converting her while retaining self-awareness required high costs, and Ambrose planned to give this out as a benefit.

If Isabel didn't want it, he wouldn't foolishly pay for some transformation ritual.

But to Isabel's ears, it meant something else.

"Teacher, you mean this is all a matter of money?"

"Of course. Undead don't have those worldly desires; the only thing needed to negotiate with you is profit. Your function in this castle is to generate profit. As long as the profit is large enough, everything is negotiable. Remember this, and do your job well."

Ambrose gave a final pointer, then hurriedly left the castle.

Identifying the direction, Ambrose cast *Fly* and flew toward the target.

This family that believed in the Lord of Storms was named Leitman. They had existed before Ambrose settled in the City of Alchemy, possessing a main city and three satellite towns, with an estimated population of thirty to forty thousand.

With such a population, raising a thousand full-time soldiers would seem slightly militaristic elsewhere, as food production was always a big issue. But near the City of Alchemy, it didn't seem like much, because enchanted seeds were easily bought here.

With increased yields and pest resistance, regular large-scale orders surely brought higher harvests than farming elsewhere.

If one kept a certain number of alchemists, they could even turn enchanted seeds that degenerated after one planting into seeds that could be sown four or five times before degenerating.

When Ambrose entered the Leitman family territory, he found the place was relaxed on the outside but tense on the inside.

Although strangers weren't prohibited from entering, as soon as he walked into the outer satellite town, Ambrose felt four or five gazes land on him, staring at him, the stranger, dead on. The Leitman family had certainly smelled the coming storm; there were more people patrolling the streets than working.

"Indeed, well-trained. A direct attack would be very troublesome. Can I just set up a teleportation circle at the mining area and steal the ore directly?"

Leitman's territory was too large, with towers and defensive works everywhere. Who knew how long a forced attack would take? Besides, undead troops cost money. Even if he won, he didn't know how long he'd have to mine to balance the losses.

Ambrose pondered lower-cost methods in his mind, but soon someone dressed in noble attire walked over and said politely, "Hello, strange mage. Are you here to taste our specialty, Thunderberry Wine? Our Lord is very hospitable. Encountering a guest like you, he would insist on treating you to a drink."

The words were polite, but the guards beside the noble had already surrounded Ambrose, ready for combat at any moment.

Ambrose had intended to say he wanted to chat with Lord Leitman first to see if they could discuss cooperation, such as buying ore at a low price to avoid an unnecessary war.

But he suddenly felt something was wrong. As the guards surrounded him, another uncomfortable gaze landed on him.

Sensing it briefly, Ambrose discovered the source of the gaze—an elf wearing Twilight Guard leather armor.

Sure enough, these elves wouldn't just target small lords like the Porcupine Knight; their elite squads had already entered various territories. Seeing that this Twilight Guard wasn't being watched by Leitman's soldiers, could it be they had already reached an agreement?

Seeing Ambrose remain silent, the noble took half a step back and continued, "Mage, what do you think? Will you have a glass of our respectful Thunderberry Wine, or shall we go somewhere else to chat?"

Ambrose revealed a smile and said to the member of the Leitman family, "Of course, I hope to sit down and have a good drink with Lord Leitman. I bring a message from the Dwarf King of the Golden Kingdom. I must discuss it with Lord Leitman in person."