Hoffmann Ironfist had completely abandoned any thought of assassinating the Elven Queen. The elves were already preparing to withdraw and head home; the dwarves would be wise to go along with the current rather than fight it.

If anything were to happen to Catherine now, the elves might change their strategy—and at that point, they might not be so easy to talk to.

Although no concrete agreements could be formalized during this informal meeting, his exchange with Catherine alone made it clear that this was a real opportunity for the dwarves.

If they could fully absorb the territory of Alkhemia, the dwarven kingdom's population would instantly double. More importantly, it would gain a complete set of facilities for alchemical mass production.

This had once been Alkhemia's exclusive advantage, which other kingdoms had envied.

A healing potion cost Alkhemia half as much to produce as it did elsewhere, while its output exceeded other kingdoms' by more than an order of magnitude.

And though other kingdoms envied Alkhemia's industry, they couldn't replicate it. Those production lines had been built over decades by countless alchemists. Other kingdoms simply did not have the talent pool to do so, even if they had all the relevant blueprints and schematics.

With Alkhemia's production lines, the dwarven kingdom would be able to mass-produce magical potions and enchanted equipment. Coupled with its doubled population, its military strength would increase severalfold.

At that point, even if the Lyon Empire were to break through the desert's natural barrier, the dwarves would still have the strength to fight them off.

Hoffmann Ironfist could hardly wait to report this good news. There was no better outcome than this.

After Hoffmann Ironfist left, Catherine asked Ambrose in puzzlement, "You asked for so much. Weren't you afraid he'd refuse?"

The price Ambrose had quoted was frankly outrageous. The Dwarven Kingdom had been beaten into collapse by Lyon and was already in full retreat. Migration alone would consume enormous manpower and resources, and yet Ambrose had demanded billions in gold at such a moment. No matter how one looked at it, it defied common sense.

"I was planning to start high and see what happened. I didn't think they could actually afford it," Ambrose said, stroking his chin. "But judging from Hoffmann Ironfist's reaction, I'm afraid we seriously underestimated the dwarves' financial reserves. Is grave-robbing really that profitable?"

Catherine continued, "And why did you say you were working for us elves?"

"Well, aren't we about to ask the dwarves for wages?" Ambrose replied matter-of-factly. "I sold myself to the elves for the sake of love and peace, after all. The dwarves gained enormous benefits from this, so asking them for a bit of compensation for my labor seems perfectly reasonable, right?"

Catherine was left speechless. This lich truly would do anything for gold.

But just as Ambrose was basking in the profit he would soon receive, he suddenly frowned. "Did you think Hoffmann's visit today a little strange?"

Catherine mirrored his frown. "In what way? Coming to inquire after my condition after the attack seems normal enough for the other party in a negotiation."

"That's true, but it still feels off to me. When he arrived, it was like he had another objective in mind. By the time he left, though, it seemed as if he'd abandoned it... Ah, forget it. Politicians all have filthy hearts. People like that are impossible to read."

Ambrose didn't dwell on it. If it were something that would affect him, he would have sensed it already.

Everything was in place. In a couple of days, once the contract was signed, he'd have more gold than he could dream of.

Ambrose was in an excellent mood. Although the recent chaos had resulted in considerable casualties, the losses were negligible compared to a full-scale war between nations. It might as well be a rounding error in comparison.

Not only that, he had helped the elves resolve their issue of mana addiction. Tens of millions of elves would be spared a painful death under its torment.

Ambrose really did live up to the slogan of "love and peace." Who knew how many lives he had saved, how much suffering he had prevented?

By that reckoning, the Mistress of Pain was probably shrieking, clawing at the ground, and rolling about in agony by now.

Ambrose could feel his soul grow clear and luminous—what he would have called in his previous life a sense of mental clarity, as if his quality of life had been elevated.

Meanwhile, Hoffmann Ironfist returned swiftly to the nearly completed castle, his heart alight with excitement.

He was desperate to share the news with the Dwarven King, but the other end of the magical communicator remained silent. The king was likely resting; he was still in ill health, after all.

No one dared disturb the temperamental dwarven king at such a time. With no other choice, Hoffmann Ironfist left a message.

Just as he was preparing for the upcoming negotiations, the magic circle by his side suddenly flared out of control. A ferocious dragon's head appeared within the array.

Hoffmann Ironfist was both startled and furious. This was supposed to be a one-way communication array. How had the House of Cerberus forced a call through?

Geronimo sneered. "No need to be so surprised. Dragons are far superior at magic than all other races. Taking over this array is hardly difficult. I sensed you using a communication array just now and simply made a connection. You don't mind, do you?"

Hoffmann Ironfist wanted nothing more than to cut the connection immediately.

He had already obtained what he wanted from the elves and had no desire to remain entangled with these infernal worshipers.

But infernal worshipers tended to be madmen, and this half-dragon in particular felt particularly brutal. If he severed the connection now, there was no telling what the dragon might do.

Suppressing his disgust, Hoffmann Ironfist asked, "Why did you contact me?"

"It's about our cooperation, of course," Geronimo said. "Didn't you promise to create an opportunity for me to capture the Elven Queen when she was isolated? Well?"

Hoffmann Ironfist shook his head. "It's not that simple. I met the Elven Queen today, but unfortunately, there's no way to lure her out alone. It seems our cooperation has to end."

Geronimo's vertical pupils fixed on Hoffmann Ironfist, sending a chill down his spine.

"End the cooperation? Take advantage of us and then toss us aside, huh? Don't you think you'd be getting off too easily?" Geronimo said coldly.

Hoffmann Ironfist snorted. "I can't just force an opportunity to arise. If you don't believe me, try storming the castle and killing them all yourself."

Geronimo hesitated for a moment. "Fine. We'll end the cooperation here, then. The elves' retaliation will come soon enough. We're preparing to leave."

Hoffmann Ironfist let out a breath of relief. Good riddance. The sooner these infernal worshipers were gone, the fewer problems he would have.

"Best of luck," Hoffmann Ironfist replied.

"Heh. It's not that simple. Migration is expensive," Geronimo said. "Surely the King's Hand wouldn't mind offering a bit of assistance to a former ally."

Such naked threats actually put Hoffmann Ironfist more at ease.

If Geronimo had agreed to leave that readily, Hoffmann Ironfist would have grown more suspicious. Now that he was asking for money, it made things feel more honest. Their departure suddenly seemed far more likely.

Hoffmann Ironfist didn't want to waste any time. "How much?"

"Not much. Five hundred thousand gold coins delivered to my territory tonight. You know where it is."

Hoffmann Ironfist felt a hint of disdain. He had just finished discussing a deal worth hundreds of billions with Ambrose. Five hundred thousand gold was barely worth mentioning.

But the House of Cerberus was only a minor noble house to begin with. They didn't have much in their coffers. Asking for five hundred thousand gold seemed perfectly reasonable.

"Fine. I'll have the gold sent."

"No," Geronimo said. "You'd better come in person. I have a gift for you as well. Tell me, are you interested in some Hellgates?"

"Hellgates? You're willing to give them up?!"

"Of course. Hellgates can be moved before they're opened, but the farther the distance, the more complex the ritual. I'm not just leaving Alkhemia's territory. I'll be crossing half the continent and getting far away from you dwarves, the elves, and the Lyon Empire. Rather than abandon these Hellgates, I might as well hand them over to you.

"King's Hand, I trust you'll put these two Hellgates to good use."

"You're really willing to give them to me? And you expect me to believe that?"

Infernal worshipers were never this generous. Geronimo had to be plotting something.

"Of course, it won't be for free. Aren't you at war with Lyon? They already occupy nearly half the desert. I have only one request: open these Hellgates within Lyon's territory and let those humans experience what Hell truly means.

"This is the will of the master I serve. Lyon is the nemesis of Hell. Conflict with Lyon will be good for you dwarves as well, won't it?"

Hoffmann Ironfist hesitated. He still felt the half-dragon wasn't being entirely honest, but the prospect of two Hellgates was undeniably tempting. Used properly, they could tie down the Lyon Empire for a long time, giving the dwarves far more room to retreat and migrate at their leisure.

After a long pause, Hoffmann Ironfist finally nodded. "Very well. I'll deliver the gold personally."

Geronimo opened his mouth, lined with jagged teeth, and laughed.

"Then I'll be waiting for you at the castle."

The magical communication cut off. Hoffmann Ironfist left the hidden chamber and soon found his guard captain.

"I have a special mission for you tonight," Hoffmann Ironfist began. "I need you to shapeshift into me and escort a shipment of gold..."