Besides banter, many players had suggestions—like buffing the Encounter Boss rate.
"As for the Encounter Boss spawn rate—we aren't adjusting it. The numbers are fixed; it comes down to luck."
Ken responded to the flood.
An encounter boss is so named because it's hard to encounter.
If everyone ran into it every few days, would it still be an encounter boss?
And every game's currency and economy must be controlled—if Primogems flood the ecosystem, the experience drops.
How to put it…
Many players love the fun of grinding, and the game needs ecological balance. You can't break that lightly.
Groans filled the chat; dreams of farming Primogems off the Encounter Boss evaporated.
"Besides the new map, the banners are changing. Barbatos' banner will be replaced with the leisured stroll of Zhongli."
Ken dropped the news; many already suspected it, but official confirmation still thrilled plenty.
Since launch, Zhongli's fanbase had grown at a shocking rate; many were watching just to get a definitive answer.
Hearing it now, the chat's mood pivoted—everyone shouted to serve the dish, bring Zhongli out.
"So eager? Then let's let Zhongli meet you early."
Originally, they planned to play Zhongli's PV first, then bring him on.
But seeing how excited both the viewers and the old man himself were, Ken decided to serve early—Zhongli appeared on camera ahead of schedule.
"Hello everyone, I am Zhongli."
"I'm glad to meet you all on Blue Star. I come empty-handed, so I'll gift you 600 Primogems as a blessing—claim them from Ken later."
Unshakable as a mountain, Zhongli sat in the studio; handsome and elegant, but with that familiar mature calm when he spoke.
Like an ancient monolith, unmoved by the sands of time.
The chat was both excited and amused.
["Did I hear that right? Zhongli said he'd give us Primogems? In the official memes, he has Director Hu comp his meals—how does he have money to give me Primogems?"]
["Funniest thing today: Zhongli giving out money live."]
["It's fine—even though Childe's back in Snezhnaya and Zhongli lost his wallet, he's still not short on Mora. Right, Hu Tao?"]
["Lmao, did you not listen? You're claiming it from Mr. Ken this time."]
["As expected—Anemo and Geo together still don't make half a Mora."]
"…"
Hearing Zhongli hand out Primogems cracked everyone up.
Who doesn't know the old man never carries money?
Even Azhdaha, watching the big screen from the back, couldn't help but laugh.
Who would've thought—Morax, creator of Mora, couldn't adapt to human life and goes around freeloading; players on Blue Star even know this quirk.
Azhdaha was amused and exasperated. Zhongli himself was expressionless—banter didn't faze him.
But as the meme snowballed, he spoke in a deep voice.
"As a universal principle, Mora does not circulate in this world. Even if I gave you much Mora, you could not use it as currency. Moreover… I do not have any Mora."
He tried to deploy a universal principle rhetoric to persuade the audience.
Which only made chat laugh harder.
Mora is useless on Blue Star; even Primogems he gives are paid by Ken!
The room buzzed. Seeing Zhongli solemnly declare himself broke only made it funnier.
"Today's guest is Zhongli—you're all acquainted."
"Next is Zhongli's PV. Travelers, let's learn about the past of the Geo Archon."
Once the interaction hit its stride, Ken queued up Zhongli's PV.
They had polished it with care.
In his previous life, there were many excellent fan works about the gods—but the track Ken chose this time was tailor-made for Zhongli.
As Ken spoke, the barrage thinned—most players wanted to see Zhongli's PV.
The in-game story snippets didn't satisfy the lorehounds anymore.
They wanted to see the official narrative.
…
Amidst anticipation, the screen turned black. A golden glow slowly lit the center.
The light gathered into an ancient, seal-scripted scroll, unfurling across the center of the screen, turning page by page on the breeze.
Line after line of archaic characters etched the grandeur of Morax's life.
Many couldn't read them, but the video's exquisite detail stunned them; people watched earnestly.
The pages turned faster and faster, until the endless text shattered into golden streamers, then recondensed into a towering mountain range.
At the peak stood a dark figure, spear in hand, robes snapping in the wind.
"As you know, I have lived for over six thousand years; it has been three thousand seven hundred years since I, with the adepti, founded Liyue."
The figure was as stalwart as a mountain; his voice steady and rich, like a well-aged wine steeped in centuries—transporting listeners back to the Archon War.
As his words fell, the image shattered into rotating fragments, then formed a massive rock.
"In ancient times, Liyue was rife with miasma and monstrosity."
"We went south past Tianheng, east to Yaoguang, west to Jueyun, north to Qingce—everywhere desolation, the living in misery; in vast Liyue, there was scarcely a place for peace."
"Though I did not seek conquest, I knew the suffering of the people."
"I wished only to scour the four quarters and protect a corner of the mortal world."
With that, the rock burst with light and fell upon Liyue like thunder.
In an instant,
The darkness cleared; blazing sunlight and majestic mountains emerged.
At that very moment, the high, fierce blare erupted—like the force to shatter mountains and time.
Immersed viewers jolted, goosebumps rising.
["Holy—this soundtrack is insane!"]
["Perfect match! I'm fired up—goosebumps!"]
["My scalp's tingling—music team went feral!"]
["Are you sure you're not a music company? This score is unreal!"]
["My DNA is vibrating!"]
"…"
Before viewers could recover, a brilliant operatic voice followed the panorama's end, drifting in:
"… In days of yore,
Eight serpents broke the abyss, waves devoured ten thousand fathoms,
Body swept in white surge, none could match…"
The soaring opera timbre echoed through the stream, making skin prickle.
Though the PV had barely begun, the camerawork and music radiated force.
That visceral resonance proclaimed the PV's success.
Holding back excitement, viewers watched in silence, as if traveling millennia back to witness the Archon War with Morax…
The aria continued:
"… Blessed that the Geo Archon arrived, a bond with gods was forged,
Kites fly, jade shatters, seas grow calm.
He cleaves the earth and raises Tianheng;
Jade plates and ritual vessels build Guili.
He sows the warmth of mortal smoke and fire;
With dragon's eye, he grants life to a companion…"
As the opera rose, the images shifted.
They seemed to see the war-god sweeping the land with his spear; barren stretches blooming with flowers.
Desolate ground sprouting prosperous towns.
A dragon that knew no sky was given eyes and life—becoming Azhdaha.
Adepti campaigning on all sides, shielding the people.
But the splendor didn't last.
With a shift in melody, the images changed again.
The beauty vanished; war and smoke took its place. Plains once full of Glaze Lilies turned to fields of bones overnight.
Wind carried mournful keening; countless citizens were displaced, bustling towns reduced to ruins.
"… Dark clouds blotted sun and sky; torrents raged among toppled walls.
Only the laments of the people filled the fields.
We carved pacts amid peaks, lifted axes in the thousand crags;
The adepts went forth, body first!
Gales roared, demons spilled; flame rained down and miasma burned.
We shifted sky and held up mountains; jade was stained with blood, old grudges long unwashable.
Heaven's law far away—sighs of parting.
The four seasons wax and wane; I look within, and send this body home…"
The stunning opera sang of the war's cruelty and grief, and of the god who fought for his people.
That spear-bearing war-god led from the front, carving a path of light through the carnage.
It was with blood and bones that today's flourishing Liyue was built.
The bittersweet opera narrated Morax's half-lived journey, igniting the players' passion—
And after the blaze, a deep desolation.
As if the smoke of war, fallen friends… all dissolved into the river of time with the song.
"… In the Wangsheng Hall we speak of passing on; before old friends' graves we remember old friends.
Yet he hides in the deep of common lanes, scheming a thousand miles, tipping heaven and earth.
Year by year, prayers at shrines bring wind and rain in season; the Seven Stars shine bright as the sun rises.
After half a lifetime apart—what is a god?
He sits, drinks of the past, and listens to tales untold…"
As the piece ended, the war faded; old comrades' remains melded into the land, their bodies forging the present prosperity.
The image shifted to modern, bustling Liyue.
Of the Seven, Liyue is the most prosperous; it earns the words flourishing and bright.
Every alley rings with laughter—children racing along the docks of Liyue Harbor, adventurers passing through Guili Plains, the lively Feiyun Slope—all steeped in happiness.
Yet the war-god who once raised his spear for his people, who fought for the right to protect the mortal world—slowly stepped off the stage of history.
The video didn't wield a sharp knife, but left viewers aching.
Time is most ruthless; even a god who sheltered mortals for millennia must fade from the tide of history.
Centuries hence, will anyone remember Morax of Liyue?
Will anyone remember the war-god's spear sweeping the four quarters?
At the end, Zhongli stood atop Guyun Stone Forest.
He gazed into the distance, his voice riding the wind, distant and lingering: "Now, I am but an ordinary man of Liyue. If the world has no gods, then this is a nation of men."
"I was once the god of men; I should witness the rise and fall of men."
"For the sake of the right path, people keep giving up, keep losing."
"Perhaps this is the erosion Heaven lays upon me; the stronger the power, the greater the danger when eroded."
"Washed by thousands of years, even rock may feel weary."
"But I am the god of humanity. Whatever my identity, I will witness the history that belongs to men with my own eyes."
"Upon this vast land lie many tales, many secrets. They have weathered too long, been forgotten—or cast aside."
"The Witness, here to witness. The Rememberer, born to remember."
With that, the video ended.
The kaleidoscope of beauty returned to black; white text at the end cut like a knife:
—"I wish to buy osmanthus and carry wine—but alas… my old friends are gone."