Ren's simple, powerful declaration had shattered the stalemate in the Jade Chamber. It had not solved the logistical problems, but it had provided a clear, unwavering moral direction. In the days that followed, the frantic, high-stakes debate was replaced by a series of quiet, focused, and profoundly collaborative planning sessions. The question was no longer if they should share the technology, but how.
They worked together, the five of them, in the now-familiar quiet of Ningguang's office, a strange, unprecedented council of mortals, an adeptus, and a child from another star.
"The risk of misuse is still the primary concern," Keqing stated, her pragmatic mind focusing on the most immediate problem. "If we simply sell these devices in the marketplace, they will be untraceable. They could be stolen, sold on the black market, and used for any number of illicit activities."
"Control is paramount," Xianyun agreed, her scholarly mind aligned with Keqing's logic. "Unregulated distribution would be an act of profound irresponsibility."
It was a significant hurdle. How could they honor Ren's decree to share the gift with everyone, while still mitigating the inevitable dangers?
It was Ren himself who provided the elegant, simple solution.
"You should register them," he said, looking up from a piece of paper on which he had been sketching. "Like books in a library."
The four women looked at him, intrigued.
"In the libraries of my world," he explained, "every book has a unique number, a code that is just for that one book. When someone borrows it, the librarian writes down their name next to the book's number. That way, they always know who has which book."
He showed them the blueprint, pointing to the conduit at a space beside it, in one corner.
"We can do the same thing," he said, his logic clean and direct. "Every device we make, every single gauntlet or brooch, will have a unique identification number inscribed directly onto its Conduit. It will be like its fingerprint."
Ningguang's eyes lit up, her mind instantly grasping the full, brilliant scope of his idea.
"When someone wants to buy one," Ren continued, "they have to come to an official Qixing office. They provide their name and their identification. That information, along with the specific element they choose, is entered into a registry, right next to the unique number of the device they are given. So we will have a record of every device, who owns it, and what element it uses."
"Accountability," Keqing breathed, the word a quiet, reverent sigh. "It creates a system of direct, personal accountability."
"Exactly," Ren confirmed. "If a device is found to have been used in a crime, the Millelith can identify the device by its number, look up the number in the registry, and immediately know who the registered owner is. That person would then be held responsible."
The solution was perfect. It did not restrict access, but it created a powerful, built-in deterrent against misuse. It was a contract of responsibility, a system that placed a fundamental trust in the people, while also ensuring that those who broke that trust would be swiftly brought to justice.
With that final, crucial piece of the puzzle in place, the framework for what would come to be known as the "Azure Edict" was drafted.
After several more days of intense discussion, the final memorandum was agreed upon:
First, the core blueprint for the Elemental Conduit and the Resonance Chamber would remain a state secret of the absolute highest order, known only to the five of them. Its security would be paramount, and only taught with limited operational understanding for creation purpose.
Second, for now, the production and sale of the devices would be limited exclusively to the citizens of Liyue Harbor. This would act as a controlled, initial rollout, allowing them to monitor the social and economic impact in a contained environment before considering wider distribution.
Third, any citizen wishing to acquire a device would have to personally register with a newly formed Qixing department. They would have to provide their name and official identification.
Fourth, each citizen would be permitted to register for only one elemental device. They could choose their preferred element and the form it would take—a gauntlet, a wristlet, a brooch—but the law was absolute: one person, one element. This would prevent any single individual from accumulating the god-like power of wielding multiple elements.
And finally, every device would be inscribed with a unique, traceable identification number, linking the device to its registered owner for life.
It was a masterful plan, a perfect balance of Ren's compassionate decree and their collective, cautious wisdom. It was a system that would bring a new, incredible power to the people, but would do so in a way that was controlled, responsible, and quintessentially Liyue—a grand, new social contract, founded on a bedrock of order, accountability, and a profound trust in the potential of mortals.