At the foot of Dadaupa Gorge, hidden among dense forest, lay the largest Treasure Hoarder camp outside Mondstadt.
Thick trees supported a dozen oil-smeared canvas tents, shielding their occupants from the storm. Inside, pots bubbled with stew, the scent of meat spreading even into the downpour.
Outside, in iron cages, a dozen hunters from Springvale were imprisoned.
"Damn Treasure Hoarders… they've ruined all our game."
The young hunter Bobo gnashed his teeth at the noisy camp, seething with rage.
Rain pelted down, soaking them to the bone. Though hardy, their bodies were weakening. If help didn't come soon, they might die in this storm before rescue arrived.
"Don't panic. We've been gone long enough that the village will notice. The Knights of Favonius will come. Hold on."
Even injured, their leader Draff forced himself to encourage them.
They had always known of hilichurls nearby, and would normally detour around them. Never had they imagined a Treasure Hoarder base hidden in these woods.
"Who's Draff?"
A young Treasure Hoarder strode over.
"I am," Draff said coldly.
"Good. Our boss wants to see you." The thug yanked him out and dragged him toward the largest tent.
Inside, the Treasure Hoarder leader feasted on fresh game. Seeing Draff, he sneered down at him.
"So you're Springvale's best hunter, Draff? Hand over your family's brewing secret recipe, or I'll twist your head off and use it as a ball."
"Secret recipe…?" Draff blinked in confusion.
"Don't play dumb. Your daughter's that rising Mondstadt bartender, Diona, isn't she? No way she's that skilled at her age without a family formula."
A chill spread in Draff's chest.
He had thought they were after money. To learn it was because of Diona—and some so-called secret recipe—shook him.
But there was no recipe. Diona's talent came from the blessing of the spring fairies. Still, he couldn't reveal that. If he did, they might set their sights directly on her.
"Speak, old man! Or your comrades die."
Impatient, the leader kicked Draff hard. Blood welled at Draff's lips, but the boss's frustration eased.
Their group had been scattered before—robbing caravans, looting ruins. Things changed the day they ran into a little red-clad girl near Starfell Lake. She had looked like an easy ransom target… until she smiled that wicked smile.
He still remembered.
That small red girl pulled wicked bombs from her wicked backpack and blew his men to pieces. He barely escaped alive.
Worse—she returned with Knights of Favonius, clearing out camps, torching their stores, even roasting their treasured weasel companions for food. No one could endure such madness.
Forced from Mondstadt's outskirts, the survivors regrouped here in Dadaupa Gorge. But with little trade passing by, they were desperate for another plan.
One member recalled Springvale's famed bartender Diona. Her drinks were wildly popular—even Dawn Winery's manager had tried to recruit her.
So they had decided: capture Draff, extract the "recipe," and live comfortably off brewing forever.
"Where is it?!" the leader demanded.
"…It's… at…" Draff stalled, hoping to buy time with lies.
But suddenly, a storm of wind ripped through the camp, shaking the tents.
"I thought there'd be treasure."
Ken descended with Jean and the others, disappointment in his eyes. He had overheard everything. He'd assumed Draff was caught over treasure—but it was Diona who had drawn this disaster.
"More intruders? You—"
The leader leapt up, but before he could finish, a violent gale lifted him into the air.
Green Anemo power swirled in Ken's right hand, gathering the storm to sweep the camp. Treasure Hoarders were hurled skyward, only to be scorched in an instant by purple lightning from his left hand.
How could mere Treasure Hoarders withstand someone wielding both wind and thunder?
"Father!"
Diona rushed to Draff's side, eyes filling with tears at the blood on his chest.
"I'm fine. Others are worse off," Draff whispered, then looked at Ken. "You must be Mister Ken. Diona speaks of you often. Thank you for saving us."
"No thanks needed. Let's get back to Springvale," Ken replied, glancing at Jean. "The Knights can clean up here."
"…Of course." Jean's cheeks flushed—not with shyness, but shame. To think such a large Treasure Hoarder camp had festered near Dadaupa Gorge—it was a failure of the Knights' vigilance.
"Let's go." With a snap of his fingers, the cages burst open.
Barbara, at his side, gazed at him in awe.
So cool.
So many enemies defeated in a blink. Her heart swelled with pride—her man was incredible. She too must become stronger.
"I'll heal everyone once we return," she offered.
"Thank you, Miss Barbara," the hunters said, blushing. Any bitterness they'd felt dissolved—tonight they had been saved not only by Ken, but by Mondstadt's shining idol.
Gathering them within a protective gale, Ken prepared to depart—when his eye caught a small cage beneath the leader's chair.
"Wait."
He pulled it free. Inside was a lively little creature.
"A… Treasure Hoarder weasel?"
These small beasts could sniff out and steal Mora. Raise enough of them, and you'd never want for coin.
"What is that?" Diona asked curiously.
"A treasure-weasel. Let's take it with us," Ken said, storing it away before carrying everyone back.
…
Springvale was quiet under the storm, save for a few homes lit, waiting for their missing hunters.
For now, the injured were gathered at Diona's house, where Barbara tended them with healing magic.
"Thank you, Barbara," Jean said warmly.
Her sister beamed. "No need. Healing is what a deaconess should do."
Their bond seemed to grow through this night.
Meanwhile, Ken drew Diona aside.
"Don't mention what the Hoarders said about a secret recipe," he advised. "No need to stir resentment."
Though the hunters were loyal, they had suffered because of Draff's family. Best not to fan ill feelings.
"…I understand. Thank you, Uncle Ken."
The little catgirl tilted her head up, gem-like eyes shining with gratitude. The word "uncle" made her cheeks pink. "Maybe I should… make you a drink as thanks?"
"That's not necessary," Ken said, patting her head. "If you really want to thank me… why not give a little Nyaa?"
"N-nyaa? I-I'm not a kitty…" Diona flushed, but his warm touch coaxed a tiny sound.
"Nyaa… Nyaa~"
Her soft voice trembled in the stormy night. She poked her fingers together, her face scarlet as her tail flicked nervously.
"…Nyaa~"
As if to prove her sincerity, she mewed again. She wasn't a pet—but strangely, she didn't mind meowing for Ken. His hand was so warm, even her ears drooped in comfort.
"I-I'll thank you properly another time. Not now."
Realizing her loss of composure, she bolted back inside, mortified.
Every time she met Ken, she lost control.
Leaning against the door, she covered her burning face. Without him, her father might have died. The thought filled her with both fear and gratitude.
Under the wooden eaves, Ken didn't follow. He watched the rain instead.
So—it wasn't just Liyue. Even Mondstadt was stirring with unrest. Perhaps he should clear out more Hoarder camps, and maybe collect more weasels along the way.
"You knew Diona's temperament, yet you still teased her."
A gentle voice came from behind. Jean stepped out, her face soft with smiles—her time with Barbara had eased her heart.
"And what about your temperament, Jean?" Ken asked, gazing into her eyes.
He had known her long enough—shared talks, counsel, encouragement. Yet her dignified grace always made him hold back. Still, he sometimes longed to break that composure.
Jean's cheeks flushed. Tucking her hair back, she tiptoed to kiss him softly.
"Thank you. Without you, we might never have found Draff."
"Then stay at Barbara's tonight," Ken murmured, arm around her waist.
Jean turned away shyly. "I… I'd rather not trouble her. Come to my house instead."
"…Alright."