At the foot of Longshou Peak, hidden within a quiet bamboo grove.
A freshly raised mound of earth stood there, marring the otherwise pristine natural beauty.
Zhongli and Xiao stood before it with solemn faces.
Looking closer, one would realize—it was a grave.
A carefully carved tombstone had been erected, engraved with Teyvat script:
"Grave of Xuanxing, beloved disciple of the Wine Sword Immortal Mo Yixi, of the Mount Shu Sect."
Zhongli accepted the wine cup Xiao offered him and poured a libation onto the ground.
"Senior Brother Xuanxing, though we never met in life, we are fated to meet in this manner now."
"Your funeral was hastily arranged. I beg your pardon—Mount Shu's affairs are in chaos, and we truly lack the strength for a grand ceremony."
He poured another cup.
"Our master was the Wine Sword Immortal. Though I never saw him with my own eyes, he must have been a man of unmatched grace and bearing."
"As his disciple, you must also have loved wine. This is wine from Teyvat—may it carry a taste you would appreciate."
Zhongli sighed softly, then placed upon the mound both his own finest spirit-forged sword and the flying sword Mo Yixi had bestowed upon Xuanxing.
"I have taken your spatial ring, Brother, and with it the Directing the Profound Scripture and other resources."
"But this sword and our master's gift—I leave them with you, as a remembrance."
"Now, I serve as acting head of Longshou Peak, and as one of your own lineage. Your enemies are my enemies."
"When the day comes that I reach the peak of the Spirit Transformation stage, I will crush that Greenwind Ox in the Nine Nether Secret Realm and avenge you."
"In that way, your spirit may rest."
Zhongli bowed deeply, let out a long sigh, and turned to leave with Xiao.
Suddenly—an eruption of sword qi shook the bamboo grove, the stalks rattling madly.
Zhongli instinctively sensed a chilling sword aura striking at his back.
He turned sharply.
Before him hovered two swords—one large, one small—suspended in midair.
They rang out in a piercing chorus, humming with resonance.
And in that moment, Zhongli thought he saw, upon the small grave, a young man in azure robes—smiling, eyes filled with hope and comfort as he gazed at him.
Something deep and tender stirred within Zhongli's heart.
In that instant, he understood why countless disciples and elders of Mount Shu had given their lives without hesitation.
It was for—inheritance.
The passing on of a legacy.
The same reason he had once fought ceaselessly through the Archon War.
Inheritance!
And now, that inheritance had fallen to him.
"This sword is Xuan Yi."
A gentle voice seemed to sound in the void. Then it grew more unrestrained, more carefree.
"Junior Brother, this is your senior brother's last gift. Please accept it."
"I entrust you—carry my final wish, and go higher, go farther."
"Junior Brother… the road of immortality is vast and perilous. Draw your sword!"
Zhongli fell silent for a long time, staring at that illusory figure, not knowing if it truly existed. Finally, he asked softly:
"Is my wine to your liking, Senior Brother?"
"A fine wine, indeed!"
At those words, Zhongli's lips curved into the faintest smile. He raised his hand and gripped the sword.
"Good wine, good scenery… and in time, the head of Greenwind Ox will join us. Senior Brother, watch closely. When the day comes, I shall serve Greenwind Ox with Xuan Yi, and present its skull to you as a wine cup."
The phantom of Xuan Yi grew fainter and fainter, but after a long pause, it suddenly laughed to the heavens.
"Hahaha… good! Excellent!"
"Senior Brother, the Sect Master truly chose well—our master has gained an extraordinary disciple. To be your fellow is Xuanxing's honor!"
"Junior Brother, do not hurry off yet. The immortal path is endless—let your Senior Brother see you off this last stretch!"
As the words fell, a surge of soul power burst forth from the sword Xuan Yi, flooding into Zhongli.
Zhongli suddenly felt his own spirit toughen, and insights into the Sword Control Art welled up within him.
Even in cultivating the Directing the Profound Scripture, he now held experiences that seemed to come from nowhere.
After a long while, Zhongli regained clarity. He looked down at the two swords now resting in his hand, and the mound, once more silent and still.
Drawing a deep breath, he bowed.
"One day, I will use Azurewind's head as an offering—and we shall drink together, Senior Brother!"
Xiao, though he could not understand what had transpired, could feel it clearly—Zhongli's sword intent had deepened, fathomless.
Moments later, Zhongli turned sharply, flying back toward Longshou Peak.
"Xiao, I will pass to you the Directing the Profound Scripture. Train well. One day, we will storm back into the Nine Nether Secret Realm and slay the Seven Kings—avenging all our Mount Shu brothers who perished there!"
"To settle blood-debts!"
Xiao's pupils contracted. He answered coldly:
"Your disciple obeys!"
On the open sea, where Inazuma and Teyvat's waters met.
A massive warship finally emerged from the storm-lashed region of thunder.
A grim-faced Shogunate soldier, having received some signal, strode quickly to a hidden cabin door.
Strange sigils were carved upon the door.
He knocked briskly, then departed without hesitation.
Not long after, the door creaked open—yet no one was inside.
The warship lingered in international waters, exchanged several sealed crates, then turned back into the storm.
And upon the waves, a pink-clad figure quietly appeared.
Watching the vessel vanish into thunder, Yae Miko stretched languidly.
She walked across the water's surface to a plain-looking crate. With a light tap, the box unfolded—naturally reshaping into a crude little raft.
"General Kujou at least has a conscience. Didn't make me swim all the way, after all."
"If I really had to run across the sea and got my fur wet—it'd be so annoying."
Smiling, Miko stepped onto the raft. Without a visible gesture, lightning flashed across the water, and the raft sped toward Liyue Harbor.
Opera Epiclese, Fontaine.
As always, Furina reclined in her seat, enjoying the farce that was the courtroom below.
But just as Neuvillette prepared to deliver his familiar closing pronouncement, Clorinde approached quickly, leaned close, and whispered a few words.
Furina's eyes flashed. She murmured:
"The photos?"
Clorinde produced several photographs.
The first showed a blurred figure, flying on a sword through the skies.
Furina's expression did not change. She turned to the next.
The figure commanded a thousand flying swords, his back wreathed in countless sharp phantoms—anyone who saw it would say: an immortal walks among mortals.
Furina paused, then turned to the third.
A mountain peak, shorn by ten thousand blades—its height reduced by several hundred meters.
She stared for a long time before turning to the final photograph.
It was blurry, but faintly, one could see below Jueyun Karst—over a thousand Millelith soldiers, all seated cross-legged in meditation.
When she had finished, Clorinde explained softly:
"These were taken using the Ordo Narcisse's newly developed long-range shadow camera."
"Any closer, and we risked exposure."
"In addition, Liyue's Ministry of Civil Affairs has recently begun spreading public discourse about immortal cultivation."
"The Millelith are permanently stationed in Jueyun Karst. Our agents also observed…"
A flicker of disbelief crossed Clorinde's gaze.
"Stop being cryptic! Out with it—I'm dying of curiosity!"
Furina puffed her cheeks, glaring.
Clorinde took a deep breath, then said slowly:
"Many animals… gather beneath Jueyun Karst at fixed times, bowing in worship."
"Liyue has also been regularly transporting large numbers of animals and resources there. Yet once they enter Jueyun Karst, they vanish without a trace. The land there is vast, yes—but not nearly enough to hold such numbers."
"Moreover, Liyue's major trade guilds have begun reaching out to us, seeking to purchase Fontaine's unique minerals, herbs, and fauna."
"Our investigation shows—most of these guilds are fronts for Lady Ningguang, the Tianquan. The rest, too, are tied to the Qixing in one way or another."
Furina scratched her cheek in puzzlement, muttering:
"What is Liyue plotting…?"
"And about that thunderstorm—did we ever get a reply from them?"
Clorinde hesitated, then nodded awkwardly.
"Tianquan replied… that it was Rex Lapis undergoing tribulation."
"What kind of joke is that! He's gone millennia without a tribulation—why now, out of nowhere?"
Furina slammed her chair arm, drawing Neuvillette's glance. She waved quickly and lowered her voice.
"Rex Lapis is strong, yes—but there's no way he wields power that shakes all of Teyvat!"
"Something's off with Liyue—twelve kinds of off!"
"I suspect… they're secretly scheming some enormous plan behind our backs!"
Her face was all conviction. Clorinde, however, sighed, palm to her forehead.
"Forgive me for reminding you, Lady Furina, but—Snezhnaya is also scheming enormous plans in secret. Why do you fret over Liyue, but not them?"
Furina froze.
"Uh—well…"
"It's—it's my duty as God of Justice and Fairness! I must judge the Seven Archons, after all. I need to gather intel on the others ahead of time, don't I?"
Clorinde held her tongue. Idle gossip she could accept—this flimsy excuse, less so.
"Regardless, Clorinde—you must go to Liyue yourself. Find out the truth, and report back to me."
"It's important! Vital! Understand?"
Furina's gaze was earnest.
Clorinde nodded softly. "Understood. I'll leave at once."
She turned and departed the opera house.
Furina's playful mask faded a little. Her eyes drifted, landing by chance on the Cardinal of the Oratrice.
She could not afford to take Liyue lightly.
That thunderstorm—across Teyvat, even the strongest had felt despair.
She herself was weak, but not cut off entirely from Focalors. That power… even the Heavenly Principles, laboring for thousands of years, could not match it.
What worried her most—the looming prophecy crisis, the primordial sea rising from beneath the world—all had fallen silent after that storm.
The primordial sea's surge had ceased. That great being beneath it… lay quiet.
Through Focalors, she knew the truth:
It was afraid.
Afraid of the existence that had unleashed that storm.
Perhaps… Perhaps that being could resolve Fontaine's crisis without her five-hundred-year plan.
But Furina dared not gamble on it.
Five centuries of preparation, of accumulated strength—now at its most crucial final step.
She could not risk it all on a whim.
She wanted a perfect ending.
She was not a perfect god. She could fear, she could falter—that was only natural.
But for Fontaine's sake, she forced herself never to retreat.
If Liyue truly held the means to resolve the crisis flawlessly…
She had gambled on a desperate plan with nearly zero chance of success for five hundred years. Why not gamble on something with better odds?
At the very least—for now—the primordial sea and its dweller had been stilled. Time had been bought.
She could breathe, let Clorinde investigate further.
If hope existed, she might even go herself.
If not… At least there were still Focalors.
Furina lifted the photos again, eyes glittering.
"Liyue… are you truly practicing immortal cultivation?"
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