The Great Temptation

The Radiant Holy City, the New Saint Lan Cathedral, the reception room.

A huge painting titled "Holy Law Shines Forever" hangs on the wall, like countless luminous threads falling from the sky, binding a kneeling, backlit human figure representing heresy, conducting a sacred judgment.

Inside the reception room, a dwarf and a human merchant stood before the painting. The human merchant stared intently at the artwork, marveling at it.

"This represents the pure white flame of purification," he pointed to a spot in the painting, "A pigment made from extremely fine mother-of-pearl powder." He then pointed to another spot, "Symbolizing the shadow of heresy harming the earth, created by layering lapis lazuli fragments and graphite powder to achieve this metallic, heavy texture."

"This painting—it's way too high!" The dwarf had already retreated to the edge of the sofa back, and after hopping on tiptoe a few times, he could barely take in the whole picture. But another problem was on his mind.

"Why are all the heretics in this painting barely clothed?" the dwarf asked in a low voice, puzzled. "And their torn appearance is strangely beautiful."

Upon closer inspection, these villains, who are considered heretics, do indeed have a strangely alluring figure.

The doors opened, and Cardinal Chancellor Bulameike entered the hall. The two immediately bowed in greeting.

Bulameike also came to the painting "The Holy Law Shines Forever".

"The original painting was completely destroyed in the unfortunate disaster twenty-two years ago," he explained to the two, his tone filled with regret. "What you see now is a reconstruction painstakingly done by Her Queen Ghostly Flower of Silver Moon Forest. She had admired the original just before the cataclysm and was heartbroken that such a precious work of art had been reduced to ashes by the wicked Bay Owl."

A hint of amazement flashed in the businessman's eyes.

Although Queen Ghostly Flower achieved fame at a very young age, she rarely picked up a brush to paint after a certain incident 170 years ago. The price that the Temple of Light paid to get this Legendary painter to work on the project must have been extraordinary.

"And thankfully it was Queen Ghostly Flower," Bulameike remarked. "She reproduced over 90% of the painting based on only a single meeting, which is truly admirable!"

The pleasantries ended there, and Bulameike took his seat at the head of the table, followed by the dwarf.

"Speaker!" The merchant, without taking a seat, said respectfully, "This Mr. Puka is the sole supplier of the great 'medicine'."

He bowed deeply. "Speaker, I have fulfilled my duty of introduction. Please allow me to take my leave!"

Bulameike nodded slightly, and the representative from the Blue-Eyed Chamber of Commerce quickly left the room, leaving only the dwarf Puka in the reception room.

With Puka leisurely flourish, he pulled several small boxes from his pocket and placed them on the clean tabletop.

"These medicines are indeed the result of the painstaking efforts of our clan's pharmacists," he introduced. "I am the sales representative for the Holy City region."

Bulameike's gaze swept over the medicine boxes, the words "Great Pill" prominently displayed on the front, with a striking advertising slogan below. "Transform you from a tiny nail into an indestructible sledgehammer in an instant!"

Several glaring warnings were also listed next to it:

△Strictly prohibited from being taken with Dwarven Thunder Brew!

△If signs of "redness" appear, immediately apply a calming rune!

Orcs are strictly prohibited from attempting this!

Although they seem unreliable, after repeated confirmation, these drugs can indeed temporarily cure the severe damage inflicted on the Temple of Light by the heretical Bay Owl.

"Then, Mr. Puka," Bulameike asked bluntly, "What price would you require for providing the formula for this drug?"

"My lord, I regret to inform you that the formula cannot be provided." Puka maintained a polite smile, but her tone left no room for negotiation. "The ingredients used in this medicine are rare items that our dwarf pharmacists traversed the continent and islands, enduring hardships to obtain or collect from various other races. They were then refined using a complex and ancient method, involving seven rounds of steaming and seven rounds of sun-drying over three years—"

The more Bulameike listened, the darker his face became. He wanted to immediately crack open the incessantly chattering dwarf's head and plunder his soul's memories!

But he knew it was all in vain; he was just a trade representative running errands.

Bulameike took a deep breath, suppressing his anger. "So, how much would it cost to supply us with two thousand pills per month?"

Puka looked troubled. "Our clan's production capacity is really limited." He thought for a moment, then held up a short, thick finger. "I can only make the decision to supply you with one hundred pieces per month!"

Bulameike almost laughed in anger. He had intended to threaten the dwarves with force, but then he suddenly remembered his current predicament and realized that he could not spare any resources to launch a substantial military operation against them.

However, within the territory ruled by the Temple of Light, significantly increasing tariffs on dwarf goods is feasible.

Just as Bulameike was plotting how to exert pressure, Puka spoke up first, his tone somewhat soothing, "Speaker, please calm down! To be honest, the root of all this is the identity of the apothecary of my tribe who concocted this medicine—a necromancer!"

His tone was full of sincerity, "The apothecary's only request is that the temple drop the warrant for his arrest."

This request was somewhat unexpected, Bulameike began to think about it.

This dwarf necromancer couldn't possibly request the lifting of the warrant for his arrest alone. That would be tantamount to directly revealing his own identity, which would be pointless.

"We can lift the warrants for all dwarf necromancers," Bulameike said in a deep voice, making a concession.

Puka shook his head, his voice firm, "What this apothecary of my clan desires is the removal of the wanted notices imposed on all necromancers because of that ' Spirit Cloud ' incident!"

A tangible ripple of Magic Power energy suddenly surged outwards from Bulameike, and holy light erupted from Bulameike's eyes.

Clang |

The guards standing by drew their weapons, and a murderous aura spread out. When did a dwarf dare to be so arrogant in the Temple of Light?

****

Eastern Continent, Halfling Thousand Cellars Domain, Red Luo Port.

Seven or eight human figures, wrapped in thick cloaks, carefully stepped down the gangway onto the damp dock planks.

As a bustling trading port, this place was frequented by merchants and travelers of various ethnicities, so this group did not attract much attention.

They quickly left the noisy harbor and walked out along the road.

They walked from morning until noon, and then into the afternoon. The number of people along the way gradually decreased, the path under their feet became more and more desolate, and the grass and trees on both sides began to grow wildly.

This weary group deliberately avoided densely populated areas, eating the dry rations they carried when they were hungry. Even when they passed through scattered villages, only one or two people would enter to ask for some water and buy some cheap tubers.

In the group, a particularly small figure suddenly stopped, and a childish voice, trembling with tears, came from beneath the cloak, "Daddy, I really can't walk anymore—"

The cloaked leader stopped at the sound, pulled back his hood to reveal a weathered and weary middle-aged face. He glanced at the setting sun, adjusted the heavy straps of his pack, and reassured his companion, "Hang in there a little longer, child. We'll set up camp and rest when it gets dark."

This place is far from Dragon Valley, and it will take more than a month of arduous travel. They cannot afford to waste time or slack off. They have been wandering all the way, just to reach that legendary land where necromancers can breathe freely.

We can only hope that the legendary protector, "Final Bone Mad Machines," will not let down the hardships they have endured and the hopes they hold dear!

A rustling sound came from the dense forest around them. The middle-aged man's brows furrowed suddenly, and the others instantly became alert. They nervously scanned the surrounding jungle, their hands reaching under their cloaks to grip the hidden staff handles tightly.

"Hehehe!" A dry and eerie laugh suddenly rang out, sounding somewhat erratic due to the distance. "So many necromancers—what a fruitful day!"

"Be smart and surrender obediently." Another chilling voice followed from the other side, "The dead are only worth half the price—those who surrender live, it's better for everyone!"

The middle-aged man clenched his teeth. He could sense at least ten hostile auras converging from all directions.

With only four of our own men available to fight, and the enemy being in the dark while we were in the light, the situation was extremely dire!

Suddenly, a fierce and ear-piercing sound erupted from the depths of the dense forest, mixed with several short and shrill screams!

The middle-aged man quickly scanned his surroundings, only to see the shadows of the trees swaying violently, but no attacks were aimed at their group. His muscles tensed, and his vigilance was raised to the maximum.

The sudden sounds of fighting, as if they had just started, quickly subsided, and the middle-aged man and his group remained unharmed.

In the ensuing silence, a figure slowly rose from the forest and hovered in mid-air. The figure calmly sheathed its weapon, raised its empty palms, and floated towards them with an utterly harmless demeanor.

Sensing the necromantic energy emanating from the other party, the middle-aged man's tense nerves finally relaxed a bit, and he raised his hand to signal his companions to put down their weapons as well.

Just then, the nearby bushes were violently parted with a "whoosh," and a huge dragon head covered in dark scales suddenly emerged, emitting a deep, rumbling greeting from its throat, "Good afternoon!"

The children in the group were Soul·Scatter, screaming and throwing themselves into the arms of the adults, their small bodies trembling like leaves.

The dragon stretched out its massive claw and flicked it, sending a round, red paper bundle the size of a head rolling to the child's feet. Then it lowered its head, baring its dagger-like, gleaming white dragon teeth.

The child completely broke down, bursting into heart-wrenching wails and sobs.

On the dragon's back, a necromancer smacked the dragon's head hard. "Look, you scared someone again!"

"I just wanted to give him candy!" the dragon said, feeling wronged. "And I've already tried my best to smile, just like you said!"

"What kind of ridiculous smile is that? You'd look better crying!" the observer rebuked mercilessly.

The necromancer hovering in mid-air smiled gently. "We are members of the Final Bone Mad Machines. Gentlemen—have you come to join us?"

The middle-aged man's eyes instantly filled with hot tears, his lips trembled, and he could only nod frantically, unable to utter a single word.

"Our outpost is nearby; you may come with us there to rest." The necromancer landed smoothly, his voice reassuringly calm. "The rest of the journey is also worry-free. Any boat on the White River will take you directly to our reception area at the Celestite Wharf."

Several mercenaries, their faces bruised and swollen, were roughly dragged over and thrown at the necromancer's feet.

He strolled over to the lead prisoner, a cold, mocking smile playing on his lips. "You said you had a great haul?" the necromancer's voice hardened. "Now tell me, which foolish guild dared to offer bounties for this kind of thing?"

In just one month, the Final Bone Mad Machines have already razed more than twenty guild strongholds involved in the bounty on necromancers. The Western Continent is still struggling to keep up, but anyone who dares to do so in the Eastern Continent has been sent to their death without exception.

"It's the Seagull Chamber of Commerce!" the mercenary immediately confessed, "They plan to capture necromancers and smuggle them to the territory of the Temple of Light in the Western Continent to exchange for gold coins—that's much more profitable than normal trade!"

Another rustling sound followed, and a squad of several thousand dwarf soldiers emerged from the forest path. They were guards sent by the garrison of the nearby Thousand Cellars Domain to investigate after noticing the unusual activity.

A necromancer calmly pulled out a badge and showed it to them—two White Bone wrenches crossed in a cross shape, with an adorable image of a young bone dragon below, and a cute Butterfly on the tip of its tail.

"Oh, it's the adults from the Final Bone Mad Machines!" The dwarf squad leader, upon seeing the badge, immediately waved his hand dismissively, too lazy to ask any further questions, and led his men back to their base.

After the two consecutive battles that established their authority, Thousand Cellars Domain had absolutely no courage to confront the Final Bone Mad Machines. Therefore, the dwarf soldiers didn't even bother to ask whether these fiends had overstepped their bounds or possessed authorization documents from the Gnome Council.

That colossal dragon skeleton, resembling a sand dune, has long since become a landmark. According to the dwarves living in Dragon Valley, it can be clearly seen even from dozens of miles away.

The officers of the dwarf army are now praying every day that they don't suddenly receive an inquiry letter from Bone King claiming that two members have "gone missing".

The necromancers didn't wait for the dwarf soldiers to go far before raising their hands and killing all the mercenaries, turning their warm bodies into undead servants.

"The Seagull Chamber of Commerce, is it?" The necromancer captain turned to his team members, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Kill them all as ordered by Guild Master Su Ming! Then hang their heads on the tallest flagpole in Red Luo Port!"

"Captain, losing your head will hinder the Undead Summoning," a team member reminded him.

"Then let them be publicly hanged, and then summoned as undead," the captain readily agreed. "And let their spirits, holding their own blood, write our warning, the Final Bone Mad Machines's Warning, on the stone slabs of the dock!"

"Understood!" the team member replied.