Chapter 1014: Mud Clump
That bastard from Greendale, what does he mean by this? Does he want me to apologize? Is he trying to completely crush me, make me bow my head?
No way, absolutely not. There's no way I'll bow to that guy. Never!
If I have to go apologize and admit I was wrong, I'd rather die here.
Damn it, he just watched from the sidelines before, let us lose so much, and now he wants me to bow my head and apologize? Dream on.
Morgan was grinding his teeth, so furious he could barely breathe.
"Morgan, have you still not figured out what's going on? Are you trying to get us all killed? Would you only be happy if every single member of the Henry Family died here?"
Arno saw Morgan's reaction, his face darkened and his tone grew harsher.
Morgan opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word. His face twisted through a dozen expressions before finally turning red with frustration. He clenched his teeth and squeezed out a few words.
"Fine, I'll go. But you give me control of the Spirit Serpent."
Arno let out a sigh.
"Morgan, I hope you don't do anything stupid. No matter what Master Leon says, don't start a conflict with him. Whatever conditions he gives, agree to them—don't try to bargain. We don't have time for bargaining anymore...
If this keeps up, even if we survive, our strength won't be competitive in the Blazeforge Battlefield.
You know exactly what that means.
Remember, don't make him angry. Just agree to whatever he asks for."
Morgan looked aggrieved, taking deep breaths. His hand trembled as he accepted the iron token, and when he controlled the Spirit Serpent to speak again, his voice was shaking.
"I'm Morgan Henry, one of the commanders of the Henry Family."
"Heh, good afternoon, Morgan Henry."
Leon replied blandly, as if they were just meeting in a teahouse on a lazy afternoon, completely unconcerned.
Through the Spirit Serpent, Morgan saw Leon respond offhandedly, lazily closing the book in his hand. That indifferent attitude drove Morgan absolutely mad.
Damn it, what does this bastard actually want? I came here myself to negotiate, I admitted my mistakes in person, and yet he still acts like this. Does he really want to watch us get slaughtered by those brainless magical beasts?
He makes me come and negotiate, but still treats me like this. He never intended to help us—he just wants to humiliate me, doesn't he?
Morgan was shaking with rage, his entire body trembling as his magical power started to flare out of control. But he gritted his teeth and swallowed every harsh word that came to mind, forcing himself to hold back.
Arno watched Morgan nervously. Even though they were negotiating through the Spirit Serpent and Leon Merlin couldn't see their expressions, every word spoken could be perfectly conveyed through the serpent—no difference in tone at all.
"Morgan, whatever you do, don't make him angry. Whatever conditions he asks for, agree to them. Hurry, we're running out of time..."
Morgan took a deep breath, forcing down his fury and frustration, and calmly continued the negotiation through the Spirit Serpent.
"Archmage Leon, I apologize for what I said earlier. The Henry Family is in crisis, and I lost my composure. Now, we hope to receive your help. Once we've dealt with these six foolish, filthy Mud Lizards, we'll split all the spoils with you—half for your side."
Leon Merlin let out a cold laugh.
"Morgan, I think you've misunderstood something. I'm not angry. My people and I just finished a battle and we're exhausted. So, we'll only take care of those six Mud Lizards after we've rested properly."
Morgan's eyes widened and he cursed silently in his heart.
That damned bastard, greedy worm—even half the spoils isn't enough for him. He really just wants to watch us get wiped out. He's here to humiliate me, to see how low I'll stoop...
Morgan cursed Leon Merlin in his heart for several seconds, but could only swallow his frustration and raise the stakes.
"Fine, Archmage Leon, you win. As long as you help us kill these six Mud Lizards, all the spoils are yours."
Leon Merlin gave a mirthless, mocking smile.
"Morgan, it's not impossible for us to help, but look—my people are exhausted, everyone is wounded and we don't have any alchemical potions. Forcing ourselves to cast spells now would be a huge risk, could even ruin our futures. Given the Henry Family's wealth, two bottles of Elixir of Life and two bottles of Arcane Spring for each person shouldn't be a problem, right?"
Leon Merlin hadn't even finished speaking before Morgan shrieked.
"Two bottles of Elixir of Life and two bottles of Arcane Spring per person?"
Morgan gnashed his teeth, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.
Two bottles per person doesn't sound like much, but there are over fifty people on Leon's side. That means he'd have to hand over a hundred and ten bottles of Elixir of Life—and these aren't some low-grade healing potions. Only a Grandmaster can guarantee a decent success rate.
If an alchemist below Grandmaster tries to brew the Elixir of Life, you'd be lucky to get one bottle out of twenty batches of ingredients. The cost of the materials alone would exceed the potion's value. Only a Grandmaster skilled in making this potion can keep the success rate above thirty percent.
A hundred bottles would keep a Grandmaster busy for two months straight without sleep. But where would you even find a Grandmaster willing to work himself to death? It's impossible. It'd take three months just to scrape together a hundred bottles.
The Henry Family is rich but small in number. That's why they brought a hundred and fifty bottles of Elixir of Life this time—enough for everyone to get several each, maximizing their chances that no one would die. Anyone who enters the Blazeforge Battlefield is considered the family's most precious asset; losing even one would be heartbreaking.
Arcane Spring potions are just as tricky. Only a skilled Grandmaster can brew them, and the ingredients are even pricier than those for the Elixir of Life. One ingredient only grows near mana springs—extremely rare—and cultivating it is basically a money-losing business.
Over a hundred bottles—enough to make Morgan's liver ache and his heart tremble...
How the hell did that bastard manage to bring in an entire Mage Legion? We all used special tricks to sneak in a few extra people, but nobody managed fifty...
The Blazeforge Battlefield's planar passage only allows a limited number of entrants. At most, that many people can come in, but smuggling more doesn't increase the passage's strain.
The Henry Family smuggled in their extra people by freezing them ahead of time, sealing off all magic and life force so they were like corpses, then packing them into spatial gear for transport. But even that had limits—the family used five spatial items to sneak in just thirty people.
"Morgan, is two bottles of alchemical potion per person really that much?"
Just as Morgan was shaking with rage, Leon Merlin's light, airy voice drifted over again.
Morgan's eyelids twitched. After calming himself, he forced out a reply through clenched teeth.
"No, two bottles per person is perfectly fair. These consumables are our responsibility to provide..."
Damn you, Archmage Leon, you bloodsucking bastard—no, even greedier than a vampire. No wonder he wouldn't negotiate with Arno and insisted on dealing with me.
He set these harsh terms just to see me lose face, just to humiliate me, didn't he?
"Oh, I just remembered, Morgan. My people aren't in great shape, so when we deal with those six Mud Lizards, could you have your people handle the cleanup?"
Morgan had already given up struggling and agreed weakly.
Mud Lizards are the worst to deal with. Their bodies are covered in layer upon layer of hardened mud, tougher than steel, and their blood is corrosive. Their flesh is putrid—if it gets on you, the stench lingers for ages and even messes with your mental stability.
There's a kind of poison potion made from Mud Lizard blood and organs—very effective against powerful magical beasts or mages.
That's why these materials are so valuable—mostly because hardly anyone's willing to process them. No one wants their magic tainted by a stench that won't wash off...
"Oh, by the way, Morgan..."
Leon Merlin spoke up again, but before he could finish, Morgan shrieked like a girl cornered with nowhere to run.
"Archmage Leon, just spit out all your conditions at once. We'll agree to everything, is that enough for you? If you keep humiliating me like this, I'd rather die fighting than submit!"
Leon Merlin opened his mouth, a little surprised, a hint of confusion in his eyes.
When did I ever humiliate him?
"Morgan, you're really generous. Since you've agreed, then let me have the Spirit Serpent—I find this kind of Essence Relic fascinating."
"What... Spirit Serpent? When did I agree to that?"
Morgan was already babbling incoherently, about to say something when the dark barrier at the valley entrance was torn open again. The protective wards were fluctuating even more violently—the largest barrier was about to be ripped apart...
"Fine, you win, you get everything, just hurry up! Those stupid magical beasts are about to break through..."
With life and death hanging in the balance, Morgan couldn't care less about a special but powerless Essence Relic. If Leon wanted it, he could have it...
Leon Merlin spat out a rune, sealing the Spirit Serpent before tucking it into his spatial ring.
Since the terms were settled, you couldn't just let your patron die, right?
Leon Merlin instantly summoned his Ice-Fire Elemental Avatar and flew toward the valley, his people switching into battle mode.
A group flew in from behind, a torrent of ice and fire spells surging forth and immediately drawing the Mud Lizards' attention. Two of the beasts turned and roared at Leon's group, launching clumps of mud like cannonballs.
Those mud clumps, only two or three meters across, didn't look like much at first. But when they collided with spells, the mud acted almost like living creatures, rapidly enveloping the magic.