The girl tossed aside the two goose-feather pens in her hands, rolled up the scroll before her, stuffed it into a metal case, and then looked down at Leon Merlin with a strange smile.
"Well then, mighty one from the Prime Material Plane, the transaction can begin now."
After saying this, the girl tossed the luminous crystal tablet to Leon, then produced a new leather scroll. Holding two goose-feather pens, she dipped them in fresh blood and began writing swiftly across its surface.
A few minutes later, the girl tossed the scroll out. It stretched more than ten meters long, densely packed with blood-red script—all written in the Soul Speech of the Undead Plane. Only those who wield soul power could decipher it; this was the most airtight contract language known. Even soulless beings could sign a pact with it.
The price for breaking such a contract was life and will—or whatever sensations remained. The cruelest consequence was the complete erasure of a being’s existence. Soulless undead, even the progenitor vampires, could be bound by this language.
"Mighty one, you may review the contract for any issues concerning your life. As for the plane, we can negotiate that slowly."
A glimmer flickered in Leon Merlin’s eyes, an eerie brilliance surfacing in his pupils as he slowly scanned the contents of the scroll.
"Lilith, you may have forgotten—the subject of my transaction isn’t this plane itself, but the coordinates of the Gravemire Realm. I’m not obligated to lead anyone in taking over this plane. The contract language needs to be a bit more precise."
And my name is Merlin. You may call me Merlin."
Lilith smiled faintly and, without hesitation, amended that point in the contract.
"Alright, Merlin, you’re right—the contract should be more complete. Now, as per its terms, you should hand over the coordinates."
As Lilith spoke, a thick octopus tentacle suddenly extended from the counter, its black length reaching over to the outer shelves and retrieving a black stone box.
After opening the box, Lilith suddenly froze.
"Merlin, wait a moment. Those damned undead creatures have messed up the goods again—I need to look for it."
Five more tentacles extended from the counter—six in total—endlessly rummaging through boxes and cabinets, moving stone boxes back and forth across the space.
Seeing this, Leon Merlin’s pupils suddenly contracted.
He suddenly recalled a race of supernatural beings—the Infernal Scribes. Their upper bodies resembled human girls, but their lower halves were lined with octopus tentacles. As long as they possessed mana, their tentacles could regenerate and stretch infinitely, and they had countless other special abilities.
When these beings record something, it is innately true—whatever they write becomes absolute reality. No one can alter or deceive what’s been recorded, and even ordinary people who see their records will never be misled.
Even a supernatural being can’t trick an ordinary person into seeing anything other than the truth.
The legendary Codex of Light—according to myth, this was inscribed by the first being born from light at the dawn of the world. It is considered the purest interpretation of the laws of light, perhaps even the embodiment of those laws themselves.
Not only does it contain secrets that could be called the world's hidden truths, it also holds a magical artifact component that the Book of Death has never possessed!
How could anyone not want to get their hands on something like this? In Northend World, you think you could trade a mere Skeleton Plane for it? Are you out of your mind?
Those mad dogs from the Alliance of Holy Light would stop at nothing to snatch it. Even the ascetic founder, who ignored the Alliance when it was nearly destroyed, would break his meditation just to claim this thing.
But here in the Undead Plane...
Even if some powerful figure noticed its peculiarity, they'd probably just call it a crystal slab infused with the power of flying monkeys...
Back in the day, the angels under the Lord of Holy Light fought the undead of the Undead Plane more than once. Many powerful undead were summoned to Northend World to join the battle, and they knew all too well how repulsive those wing-flapping light-energy creatures were. So, any power of light in the Undead Plane is just considered monkey magic...
No one cares about that sort of thing here in the Undead Plane.
Trading a broken plane for the Codex of Light? That's a steal. And using the Book of Forgetting to seal the deal—perfect. Lin Yun won't even remember the plane's coordinates or how to build a path there; all ties are severed thanks to the Book of Forgetting.
Even if someone digs up the dragon bones buried in that place and those dragons want revenge, it won't have anything to do with Lin Yun. No power could possibly trace this back to him.
This kind of deal is truly satisfying...
Lilith glanced at Lin Yun, who was smiling, and quietly pushed up the lens over her left eye, a radiant grin on her face.
"Merlin, I think, for the sake of completing the contract, you'd surely be willing to make another deal."
To ensure the deal goes smoothly—or rather, to make sure you survive until then—let's make another trade. You can name your price."
At Lilith's words, Lin Yun's expression shifted slightly.
If Lilith says so, it's definitely not her, or the auction itself, that's out to get him.
He's only been in the Undead Plane for a few days; you could count the ones who might have noticed him on one hand.
There's a threat, and it's deadly. Undead dragon? Impossible. After spending so much time with Xuban and Reina, he's naturally picked up some dragon aura—at least at the level of a chromatic dragon. Unless that undead dragon is brain-dead, it would sense this and steer clear.
That ghost? Unlikely. The most probable suspect is one of the vampire progenitors—Vlad.
At that thought, Lin Yun's face darkened.
Vampire progenitors—creatures that are nearly immortal, monsters that won't die even if you chop off their heads. As long as a single drop of their blood remains, they'll keep coming back.
Clearly, Vlad dares to make moves because he's not afraid of getting killed. Even if he's burned to ashes, the blood he left elsewhere would carry his consciousness and revive him.
No soul means immunity to all soul magic—not afraid of death. Ordinary spells can only delay him at best, maybe destroy his body and buy you time to escape, but Vlad will keep coming after you.
If word gets out, it might attract other vampire progenitors—beings even more powerful!
To truly kill something like that, you'd need special methods and special items. Clearly, Lilith has just what’s required...
Lilith pushed up her glasses, her smile dazzling.
"Merlin, have you made up your mind? I'm only looking out for you. The Book of Forgetting has a way to make sure you survive until the contract is complete.
All it takes is a tenth of your soul power, and you'll make it through alive."
Lin Yun smiled and held up one finger.
"One Klingon incantation for three Holy Bloodwood stakes—they must be the kind that can kill a vampire progenitor."
In an instant, a mass of writhing tentacles appeared around Lilith.
"Impossible! Impossible! How could you possibly know a Klingon incantation?
Three Holy Bloodwood stakes? Are you crazy? Two at most! Yes, two—no more! I only have two..."
Lilith lost her composure in an instant. Lin Yun just smiled, scribbling a strange incantation onto the Book of Forgetting.
The moment she saw the incantation, Lilith abruptly calmed down, her eyes fixed on Lin Yun.
"Merlin, you really are an odd one. This is a Klingon incantation that's never been used before, and you actually possess one that's never been spoken...
You win. There are only two Holy Bloodwood stakes here, but both have been bathed in the blood of a great Saint of Light. They're yours."
Lilith extended a tentacle and retrieved a stone box from the highest shelf of a cabinet, handing it to Lin Yun.
Lin Yun opened the box and glanced inside. Two stakes, each stained with a drop of blood, looked just like ordinary wooden spikes.
The wood radiated scorching energy, and that single drop of blood looked as fresh as if it had just fallen.
Holy Bloodwood stakes must be crafted from undead ironwood that's been bathed in the power of light within the Undead Plane, and only ironwood that's reincarnated a hundred times will do.
Undead ironwood lives a hundred years, but at the end of each century, it is reborn like a phoenix, returning to its original state and growing anew.
Ironwood that's reincarnated hundreds of times is the best material for undead lords to forge weapons. If it survives being bathed in light, it becomes a rare substance that restrains undead power.
Add the blood of the most devout follower of light—in other words, an archangel—and you get a magical weapon capable of truly killing a vampire progenitor.
The stronger the being, the harder it is to truly kill. Take the Seventy-Third Godfiend, for example—before it was fully formed, it suffered a catastrophic disaster. Its soul split in two and was suppressed for countless years, yet it still did not die.
Even now, its resurrection was forcibly interrupted, and it only reincarnated as Marianne. Who knows when its memories might awaken? In short, it’s almost impossible to truly, completely kill it.