Chapter 1486: Chapter 188: Cold, Damp, and Slippery

Aiwass closed his eyes, using his soul’s tendrils to gently touch the black markings on the back of his right hand, savoring the power that came from the contract.

As a Priest with advanced divine arts, Aiwass was already very familiar with the concept of “foreign power and will entering one’s own body.”

If the Candle Master’s power was a flame accompanied by spices, smoke, and warmth, and the Lord of Scalefeather’s power was a sticky and sweet darkness like syrup… then the Abyssal Celestial Envoy’s power would make one think of a giant octopus.

Cold, moist, slippery, accompanied by a faint fishy smell, with tiny suckers where it contacted the soul.

If you stayed in contact too long, it would feel like you were being tightly bound by tentacles. The longer the contact, the stronger the feeling of confinement and dampness.

And when Aiwass withdrew his spiritual sense, that illusion quickly dissipated. It was like waking from a dream, with everything in the dream rapidly fading away.

This proved that the Abyssal Celestial Envoy wasn’t actually paying attention to Aiwass, nor did it notice that its contract had changed hands.

While Aiwass was immersing himself with closed eyes, Sherlock and Ligeia also approached. Quietly and obediently trailing behind them were three Demons transformed from Ritualists.

From afar, Sherlock and the others could see the others still in petrification, frozen in joy, and the fat Benevolent Lord who had died with a twisted expression.

His face showed a look of horror, his body twisting and struggling with force, his hands tightly clenched. His neck strained backward, his face turned bruised and contorted. His pupils bulged like dead fish eyes, clouded, with pinprick hemorrhages. His wide-open mouth, like a fish drowned in the wind, oozed a bit of pink foam.

“Died so easily, this bastard.”

Ligeia said viciously, “I still wanted to torment him a bit.”

Hearing this, Aiwass raised an eyebrow, “He just died. Should I revive him so you can kill him again?”

“No need for that…”

“Strange,” Sherlock examined the body and slightly frowned, “Why is he…”

“What’s wrong?”

Aiwass turned around.

Sherlock said frankly, “He drowned—maintaining this posture, silently drowned in the desert stone. Did you do it?”

“Of course not. But he just terminated his contract with the Abyssal Celestial Envoy, which might be related.”

Aiwass spoke, showing the black markings on the back of his right hand to Sherlock, lightly laughing, “Though I don’t have the level of the Path of Dusk… I am now a Benevolent Lord.”

“How does it feel?”

Ligeia curiously asked, “Can you spray water now?”

“No—I haven’t signed a contract with the Abyssal Celestial Envoy, it feels like being crawled over by an octopus,” Aiwass spoke frankly, “It’s a bit disgusting.”

“But for people in the desert, that might be a good experience.”

Sherlock commented, “At least it wouldn’t feel too dry.”

For those born in the desert, they perhaps didn’t know what an octopus or an ocean was. The sensation of being enveloped in cold moisture might seem like a divine blessing.

“But…”

Sherlock frowned, “Why did you… touch this power?”

Ligeia quietly listened as well.

Clearly, both Sherlock and Ligeia, born in Avalon, felt repulsed and uneasy with this power of the Benevolent Lord.

Aiwass simply shared the knowledge he learned from Avxin with them.

Sherlock instantly understood why the man ended up dying like that.

“…I see now, no wonder the Benevolent Lord’s title is hereditary, yet no city ever has two generations of Benevolent Lords at the same time.”

Sherlock understood, “Also no wonder each Benevolent Lord knows how to perform rituals well, but their Path of Dusk level isn’t high… because this occupation needs one-on-one succession.”

“But I think…”

Ligeia was not too happy with Aiwass’s choice.

As a former Grand Arbitrator, she proposed another idea more aligned with “order” and “rules”: “Wouldn’t it be better to entrust this occupation to the commoners of this city? Now that you’ve obtained this mark, you can’t withdraw. But if you leave, how will the people here get water?”

“—No, I don’t think it’s feasible!”

Sherlock quickly said, “From my observation and analysis of the Parthians, if they truly obtained the Benevolent Lord’s power—I’m saying regardless of whether the person who obtained this power is a commoner or a slave, they will ultimately become a new Benevolent Lord, and nothing would change. Because they do not wish to erase the Benevolent Lord or abolish slavery; they have never known freedom; they only wish to become slave masters themselves. So, if we gave them this power, Lady Ligeia—”

“…We would become accomplices.”

Ligeia realized.

“We can indeed temporarily become the Benevolent Lord and manage this city.”

She looked at Aiwass, “But if we leave… how do you plan to handle it, Aiwass?”

“Quite simple,” Aiwass looked up at the yellowish sky, speaking softly, “All we need to do is pull down the Abyssal Celestial Envoy.”

Getting hold of the Abyssal Celestial Envoy’s authority could truly change everything.

And that is what he intended to do from the start.

“…The Ring of Ouroboros ritual? Are you going to initiate it yourself?”

“No need for me to initiate. ‘Water’ is the only hard currency in the desert, slaves are essentially a secondary currency used to exchange for water. And each Benevolent Lord’s access to water sources is limited, which is also the fundamental reason their influence can’t expand infinitely.”

Aiwass slowly explained, “Someone will definitely initiate the Ring of Ouroboros, and it must be the Abyssal Celestial Marshal. The water source war has begun… Benevolent Lords want more water sources, and the rebels want enough water too. As long as the knowledge of the Ring of Ouroboros ritual spreads, someone will definitely conduct it—that’s also the reason we came here, isn’t it?

“Although the arrival of the Abyssal Celestial Envoy would turn the desert into an ocean, causing millions or tens of millions of deaths. But conversely, if guided and protected well, it could actually use the water to change everyone’s life.”

“Grant them infinite water…”

Sherlock pondered, “That idea isn’t bad. It sounds like an economic war, to depreciate the nation’s money massively, causing the wealthy to become impoverished—money depreciating at a hundred or thousand-fold rate means wealth evaporates that quickly too.

“If everyone becomes a pauper, then there’s no distinction between rich and poor. But in Parthia, it would mean ‘everyone obtained water,’ making everyone wealthy…”

Interesting.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

He looked at Aiwass, firmly stating, “I’ll help you—what do you plan to do?”