Night fell. By candlelight, Isabel organized the mountain of experintal data.
Even though it was precious knowledge, Isabel only wished she could forget it imdiately, because the contents recorded were simply too horrifying.
Isabel had once thought this Lich lord was a rare benevolent soul, but the docunts before her told Isabel a cruel truth.
A Lich was a Lich after all.
The undead had no morals or bottom lines; they were capable of anything.
Isabel's hands trembled, yet she dared not stop, fearing she might beco one of the experint reports herself.
Fear reddened her eyes, but Isabel couldn't find anyone to confide in. Her brother, Raul, had completely beco a believer of this Lich lord, obeying his orders unconditionally.
If she let him know her feelings, Raul might even scold her harshly.
The only one Isabel could think of now was her teacher, the castle ghost who always appeared and disappeared mysteriously.
Perhaps only he could offer her a bit of spiritual comfort.
"Teacher... please save your poor student. I'm going crazy."
Large teardrops fell, saring the ink and staining the parchnt.
Just as Isabel frantically tried to wipe it, a magical light flashed, and the stained parchnt quickly returned to its original state.
"Why are you crying? If you're tired, go rest."
A confused voice ca. Isabel looked up in surprise, only to see the black-haired young man with unique features.
"Teacher..." Isabel said with a sob, finally unable to hold back, and burst into loud weeping.
Ambrose frowned at this fragile girl. He had overestimated human endurance.
A beam of magical light shot from his fingertip again, landing on Isabel. This *Calm Emotions* spell gradually settled her down.
The little girl wiped her eyes embarrassedly and said to Ambrose, "I'm sorry, Teacher. I couldn't hold it back for a mont."
Ambrose asked, "Is your stress resistance still a bit low? You can't handle this amount of work?"
Isabel quickly said, "No, it's not the workload. It's that these experints... are too cruel, too inhumane. Just seeing them makes feel terrified."
"It's for that reason?"
Ambrose looked enlightened.
"Normal. That's the reaction a human should have because elves look similar to humans," Ambrose comforted. "Maybe saying this will make you feel better: what Drow love most is capturing surface elves and brutally torturing them to death to please their goddess, Lolth. They have a ti-honored set of tortures for High Elves. Do you feel better knowing this?"
Isabel's eyes widened. As a country girl, she really didn't know this; she only heard that Drow were all liars and murderers who should generally never be trusted.
"But... but... just because Drow are bad people, does that an we can treat them like this?"
Ambrose didn't bla Isabel. Instead, he said happily, "Good question. You've finally reached the point where you should think about this."
"Teacher, what do you an?" Isabel asked, puzzled.
"I an, you've finally reached the point where you need to think about the definition of experintal subjects. This is a sign of an alchemist maturing.
"You feel these experints are cruel because Drow look like humans, making you empathize."
Isabel quickly said, "No, it's not just the appearance. They can think, they have feelings too... Do Liches have the right to stand above them and treat them as experintal subjects?"
Ambrose shook his head. "Of course not."
"But, these things right now..." Isabel suddenly didn't know what to say. Did her teacher also oppose the Lich lord's experints?
Ambrose continued, "It's not just that there is no distinction of high and low between the undead and the living; it's the sa between humans and other species. Who wins and who loses is the key. Lose, and you lie on the operating table or the dinner table.
"Do you think the frogs and lizards that died by your hands were inferior? Have you never heard the classic story of the hunger striker?"
Isabel shook her head.
Ambrose had to explain. "It goes like this: There was a human noble lady who originally loved eating at, until one day she accidentally drank a *Potion of Animal Speaking*.
"Then she discovered that animals possess intelligence and feelings. Before slaughter, a yak would talk to its companions about its newborn child, and upon seeing the butcher arrive, it would lant that its fate was the sa as its mother's.
"Hearing the animals' words, the noble lady felt sickened and decided never to eat at again, becoming a vegetarian."
Isabel asked confusedly, "So, that's a good thing?"
Ambrose said, "The story isn't over yet. This noble lady struggled to quit at and persisted for several years. When she had truly beco a vegetarian, she t a talking Treant—an elder who also possessed wisdom and rich emotions. He generously allowed the noble lady to understand the language of plants. It turned out vegetables and fruits feel pain too, and have their own families and friends."
Isabel: "..."
"Guess what the final ending of this noble lady was?" Ambrose asked.
"She... starved to death?"
"No." Ambrose smiled. "She started eating at again."
Isabel: "..."
Ambrose patted her shoulder and continued, "Humans eat birds, birds eat bugs, bugs eat grass... We live in a world where every race possesses intelligence and emotions. Survival of the fittest isn't about high or low status, nor is there a moral distinction; it's just individual needs.
"Drow becoming experintal subjects isn't because they are inferior, nor because they are cruel and evil. It's simply because they didn't escape."
"Liches, humans, the frogs you cut open and mashed—we are all equal living beings. We are just adapting to our position in nature or striving to reach a higher level.
"Human, you are not the sole intelligent being sitting high above. If you want to love all intelligent creatures in the world equally, beco a god first. Only high and mighty gods have the qualification to break away from this cycle of the weak being eaten by the strong. Only when you don't need to eat do you have the right to consider how the things being eaten feel."
Isabel thought for a while and whispered, "But... couldn't we choose other thods? For example, painless ans like euthanasia?"
Ambrose nodded, agreeing. "That thought is correct. As an alchemist, what you should do is respect your experintal subjects.
"Never think that controlling another's life and death is a matter of course. Do not conduct experints when you aren't confident. Do not waste the data obtained through these lives. Do not let your experintal subjects suffer unnecessary torture. And most importantly, do not sacrifice your lab rats for boring and aningless experints. This is the basic ethics of a scholar conducting research.
"But at the sa ti, don't be bound by the word 'torture.' Just as humans need to eat at, in the eyes of Shadow Druids, isn't steaming, boiling, and roasting acts of torture? In the eyes of gnolls, hollowing out a human's internal organs isn't considered cruel; to Twig Blights, chopping down trees is simply a heinous atrocity; Drow throwing High Elves to feed spiders is rely their traditional coming-of-age ceremony, the most pious sacrifice to the goddess Lolth."
Ambrose had only figured out this truth after living in this world for many years. At first, he still retained the mindset of a human looking down on the world from a high vantage point, feeling that as a human, he had a responsibility to every species in the world.
Later, he discovered that humans were just one of the myriad living things. Even gods could be cruel. Ao allowed Hell to exist; this wasn't his happy old ho, Earth.
Saying 'all things have spirits' on Earth was self-touching sentintality. Sighing about 'all things have spirits' here would only get a goblin to mock you: "No shit?"
Ambrose used the tone of an experienced person. "In short, in different worlds, don't copy and paste moral standards blindly."
"Different worlds?" Isabel seed to hear sothing strange.
"That's not the point. The point is whether you can accept this cold reality. Like the noble lady in the story—either figure it all out and resu eating at, or starve yourself to death. If you can't figure it out, don't be an alchemist."
Listening to Ambrose's words, Isabel felt she sowhat understood but not entirely.
Although she hadn't completely thought it through, the cruel experintal records before her didn't seem as unbearable anymore.
Seeing his employee back in working mode, Ambrose wasted no more ti. Every ti he transford into his human form, it was because he had to go out to et people.
Today was the sa. The day of negotiation with the elves had arrived.
Through Ambrose's efforts, he finally completed his research before this day. Although the manuscripts were still being organized by Isabel, the experint was largely a success.
He now had enough confidence to face those elves from Silvermoon High Court.
Watching Isabel begin organizing the data again, Ambrose humd a happy tune and left the castle.
Indeed, students trained by oneself were easier to fool; say a few words and they go back to the grind. Other alchemists all had their own sets of standards. They would either think of ways to pull little tricks on you or demand more money—annoying enough to kill you.
This was why Ambrose didn't want those alchemists. Hard to fool, and cost control was too high.
Walking out of the castle, he drifted into the night.
Ambrose flew toward the ruined City of Alchemy. The location for this negotiation was right on top of those ruins.
The dwarves of the Golden Kingdom were represented by the Hand of the King, Hoffman Ironfist, while the elves had Queen Catherine coming personally.
Honestly, the scene was a bit too grand. Ambrose had thought the elves would send a role similar to a pri minister at most.
As the middleman and the initiator of this negotiation, Ambrose had to prepare the venue.
Ambrose was practical. He chose a fairly flat open space on the ruins, cast a few *Wall of Stone* spells, and built a huge platform. Then he casually placed so tables and chairs, and that was it—aiming for a "minimalist" style.
After setting up the venue, Ambrose created dozens of Netherfire orbs to illuminate the area, making it visible from a long distance.
Around the agreed ti, a troop composed of dwarves appeared not far away.
The delegation of Desert Dwarves had arrived.
Ambrose looked over. They were all elite Dwarven Iron Guards, each encased in heavy steel armor, with crystals embedded even in the eye slits.
Hoffman Ironfist walked in the center. Although lacking in height, Ambrose dared not underestimate him, as he was clearly also a powerhouse of Legendary rank.
However, the dwarf beside Hoffman Ironfist seed overly lively. As soon as he saw Ambrose, he waved and said, "Brother, we et at last."
Heggie Stone, the vampire, floated without his feet touching the ground, appearing half a head taller than the other dwarves. Seeing Ambrose, he greeted him enthusiastically.
Ambrose also liked this friend who brought him big business. The two t happily, without any awkwardness of a first eting.
Ambrose chatted briefly with Hoffman Ironfist, then invited the dwarves to take their seats.
Now, they only had to wait for the elves to arrive, and the negotiation could begin.
However, even after the agreed ti had passed, the elves still hadn't appeared.
Hoffman Ironfist said with dissatisfaction, "Do these arrogant elves not even understand the basic courtesy of punctuality?"
Ambrose also felt sothing was wrong. The Queen coming personally ant they took this negotiation very seriously; how could they be late?
Ambrose opened his palm. Several Dice of Fate spun in his palm, then transford into an image.
The elven delegation was trapped in a sea of fire. Surrounding the sea of fire, many hideous monsters were roaring.
"This is... Demons of Hell?"
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