Silas was very clear about Mir's request; he wanted him to take a potion again to help with his experiments.
Of course, Silas would not agree to such a thing.
Even now, Silas clearly remembered the intense pain and suffocation at that time, as well as the festering and corrupt feeling in his tongue and mouth.
Silas never intended to experience such a thing a second time in his life.
"Are you sure? You are rejecting a groundbreaking major invention. If successful, you will be the first existence to glimpse the true power of potions without being a witcher," Mir said temptingly.
Silas's expression was very firm, and he said righteously, "My power is already sufficient; I do not need the power of potions, so I refuse."
"Relying on your secret art profession!?" Mir squinted and asked.
Silas didn't hide it, his expression confident, his attitude resolute. "Yes!"
Instantly, the two looked at each other, falling into a silence where neither would yield.
A minute later, Mir was the first to relent. "Alright, since you're so confident, then go ahead. Don't come back crying to me when you get beaten up."
Silas said with a confident expression, "I, Silas Sotos, even if beaten to death by someone, even if I jump off a cliff…"
"Forget it, it's better to say less of such things that are easy to be proven wrong," Silas muttered, then said seriously, "Next, we should deal with that little mouse."
...
On the other side of the capital city, the Duke of the Mountains' mansion.
Within the vast estate, near the inner side, there was an independent castle newly built in the last six months.
It was rumored that distinguished guests invited by the Duke of the Mountains lived here. It had always been the most mysterious and heavily guarded place in the entire mansion.
On the second floor of the castle, in a somewhat dim conference room, General Giss, Councilor Arthur, and Councilor Fulin sat quietly to one side.
Sitting opposite them were three middle-aged men.
The first one looked refined, wore glasses, had a goatee, and was dressed in a black scholar's robe, appearing like a gentle university professor.
The second wore a high-quality plaid shirt, grey breeches, and riding boots. He had a sturdy build, a curled mustache, and exuded the aura of a superior.
This was the leader of the anti-royalist faction, the Duke of the Mountains.
The last person wore a pure white lab coat, a monocle, and was somewhat thin. His triangular eyes flickered with a deep light, like a venomous snake.
At the head of the conference table, the seat was completely empty.
But behind the chair, there was something very similar to the sedan chairs of ancient China.
However, this was much larger than a sedan chair, looking more like an enlarged, enclosed shrine.
Around this huge shrine knelt four pale-faced men.
The four men had various injuries all over their bodies, and at the same time, they wore black shackles on their necks and hands, like slaves who had just been tortured.
The six people were all silent at this moment, seemingly waiting for something.
After a while, a rat about the size of a cat suddenly appeared from nowhere.
It could be seen that this rat had short brown fur all over its body, sharp claws, and powerful hind limbs, but its head had the appearance of a ferocious and evil human.
Giss and the other two seemed to be accustomed to this kind of thing, their expressions calm.
"My pet says that the three of them are correct; that assassin is indeed in the imperial palace," a hoarse and unpleasant voice came, like the sound of weathered bones constantly grinding against each other, making one's skin crawl and feel a sense of fear along with irritation.
"Great Moon Lord, we can contribute our intelligence and strength, but we hope you can promise us that after you control this country, you will hand over power to us," Giss said respectfully, his eyes wide with desire.
This so-called Moon Lord did not speak. The Duke of the Mountains beside him said calmly, "Rest assured, General Giss. Our goal is to unify all the kingdoms in the entire North and establish a powerful empire that believes in the Moon Lord. At that time, this small place can be ruled by you as you please."
Hearing this, happy smiles appeared on the three's faces, and they hurriedly said, "Thank you, great Moon Lord."
The professor-like middle-aged man to the left of the Duke of the Mountains asked calmly, "I need to know the locations of the mystical defense networks in the imperial palace, as well as the mechanisms, troop deployment, and route map of the entire palace."
"Troop deployment and route map are no problem, but the mechanisms and mystical defense network will take some time," Giss replied after some thought.
The researcher with triangular eyes let out a slightly shrill voice. "That's fine. I'll give you some little gadgets. Bring these things into the palace, place them according to my distribution, and you don't need to worry about the rest."
"No problem! No problem!" Fulin hurriedly said with a smile.
The Duke of the Mountains waved his hand. "You may leave."
The three carefully stood up, bowed to the shrine, and then turned to leave.
After the three left, the Duke of the Mountains asked respectfully, "My Lord, are these three wastes trustworthy?"
An unpleasant voice came from the shrine. "The thoughts of all you humans are within my grasp. Your ideas, your ways of thinking, everything about you seems so elementary and childish to me."
Hearing this, the three looked extremely respectful and said in unison, "Long live my Lord!"
"Prepare the curse. When the sacrifice matures, I can lead you to glimpse the original power of this God of Death. Condense these powers to bring about its birth. By consuming the flesh and blood of that infant, you will be able to obtain the power of the God of Death, shed your mortal bodies, and evolve into a completely new form."
"Every #￥%# craves their own child, and in the end, their children will all die at their own hands. This is an eternal curse. Even if lowly humans evolve into advanced existences, they cannot escape this fate," the mysterious Moon Lord said loftily.
The three felt no discomfort, their expressions becoming even more fanatical.
"Submit to us, prostrate yourselves before us, and you will be able to walk the correct path and reach the true end of knowledge."
Saying this, a pink tentacle flashed past between the black curtains.
"We ignorant ones will definitely dedicate everything we have to my Lord!" The three stood up, knelt on the ground, their expressions incomparably fanatical.
"Oliver, your Book of the Undead is a very good sacrifice. Come find me tomorrow, and I will bestow upon you new knowledge far beyond that of ordinary people."
The professor-like middle-aged man was immediately excited upon hearing this and said loudly, "Thank you for the Lord's grace!"
This was Oliver Finn, the holder of the Book of the Undead and the leader of the Death Cult.
The two people beside him immediately looked envious.
"Go down!"
After the Moon Lord finished speaking, the four slaves lifted the shrine and left with steady steps.
Here, the three also left the conference room and walked along the path in the manor.
"So your magic book isn't that book after all!" the researcher with triangular eyes said, somewhat disappointed.
Oliver sighed. "The Book of the Undead, the Necronomicon. The two books differ by one word, yet they are vastly different. My Book of the Undead records content related to the God of Death and is not on the same level as that Necronomicon which records ancient deities."
The Duke of the Mountains sighed. "However, thanks to this book as a catalyst, we were able to summon my Lord into this world."