The experiment had gone flawlessly.
These weren't skill books brought over from some game world anymore—they were his own creations, rebuilt under the laws of Teyvat.
Whether used normally or reversed, they functioned perfectly.
No backlash. No side effects.
They could grant strength, level advancement, and even stat growth—seamlessly.
That outcome satisfied Taro greatly.
With that, all the skill books piling up in his warehouse would finally see proper use.
Naturally, for those close to him, he remade every skill book by hand—custom-tailored, far superior to any imported game version.
Ordinary jobs might rival a god at best, but what he forged could easily surpass that threshold.
Everything depended on the materials he used.
That, he thought, was the beauty of freedom.
He was never stingy with his own people.
He had plenty to share.
Outsiders, though… weren't so lucky.
Clouds drifted over the sea.
A man and a woman walked lightly across the surface, heading toward Liyue Harbor.
At the front, Taro spoke calmly:
"The transfer book for Heaven's Guardian is ready. We can begin whenever you wish."
"As for your race—Fanan, which do you prefer?"
The choice of class had been his subordinate's own, but Taro still wanted Fanan to decide what form he'd take.
After all, what suited him might not suit others.
He'd originally considered basing it on one of the great Elemental Dragon Kings, but hearing Fanan's opinion first wouldn't hurt.
"Race, hmm…" Fanan paused to think.
"Though I am a Yaksha, my origin was once but a single seashell adrift in the endless ocean. If you trace it back, a seashell, too, is a kind of elemental lifeform."
He looked up with a small smile. "Best let Sensei decide for me."
He didn't particularly care for labels.
In Teyvat, aside from humankind—the only outsiders—all beings born here shared one origin:
A wisp of wind, a droplet of water, a mote of dust… all condensed from elemental essence.
This was a world of elements, and Fanan was simply one of its children.
"So you want me to choose, huh?"
Taro smiled. "That might be difficult."
"Besides," he added lightly, "if I pick, I might mix in a few of my personal tastes. You sure you're fine with that?"
Fanan didn't hesitate. His golden eyes brightened like twin suns.
"Whatever my Sensei loves—I love as well!"
Taro blinked. "...You really said that with a straight face."
The Yaksha's mind worked fast.
He wasn't trying to flatter—he meant it.
In his heart, a single thought pulsed:
If he could embody every trait his Sensei admired… wouldn't that make him the most beloved of all?
A simple equation. One that, to Fanan, solved everything.
To love what he loves.
To serve without hesitation.
If his master's heart was set on something, then Fanan would devote his whole being to it.
Taro gazed across the rippling sea, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.
That feeling—of being someone's favorite—was dangerously intoxicating.
People spoiled by affection often stopped cherishing it.
But not him.
He'd never been loved before.
This was new. Precious.
Aside from Huoliya, Yingda, and Fanan, no one had ever given him that warmth.
And he treasured it deeply.
"Alright," he said softly. "Let's head home."
"I'll be ready when you are."
Fanan placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "As you command, Sensei."
The two clasped hands. Their figures merged into intertwining streaks of light that shot skyward.
"Fanan."
"I'm here, Sensei."
"Tonight, bring the Book of Holy Angels to visit Liuzhen."
"Yes, Sensei. I understand."
His eyes gleamed. "Tonight… I'm looking forward to it."
After all, Yingda and Huoliya had both received something.
Now, it was his turn.
Time flowed quietly.
The sun rose, and the moon took its place.
Noon.
On the quiet sands of Yaoguang Shoal, four beach chairs sat beneath parasols.
Two beautiful women and a tiny elemental sprite lay there, basking lazily in the sunlight.
A scene of perfect leisure.
Not a care in the world.
With their immortal auras shielding their skin, they couldn't tan even if they tried.
Unfair, really.
Not far away, Taro sat in swim shorts, fishing rod in hand.
The rod itself was artifact-grade, though the bucket beside him was conspicuously empty.
He wasn't really fishing anyway. The hook was bare.
No bait, no expectations—just serenity.
Nearby, Fanan strolled along the shore barefoot, her blue swimsuit gleaming under the sun.
She smiled gently as she crouched, collecting shells and crabs into the bamboo basket looped on her wrist.
"Urgh… Huoliya, you can't win," Yingda muttered from her chair, still half-asleep, too lazy to turn over.
"Get up, or you'll burn."
"Don't wanna." Huoliya yawned, refusing to move.
The two lay there motionless, trading lazy jabs.
"Hey, you're the chef. What if the boss gets hungry?"
"Then bring me ingredients," Huoliya retorted. "A cook can't work without supplies."
"Big sister went to get seafood."
"Not enough. Go hunt something."
"Why don't you catch fish?"
"I'm salt," Yingda mumbled. "If I touch the water, I'll dissolve."
"Liar. You're a demon god, not a spice rack."
"Believe it or don't. Besides, there's no stove here anyway. You could bring one from home."
"Nope."
"…"
Fanan sighed, crab in hand. "These two…"
When had they become this lazy?
Probably after reuniting with their "Sensei," she thought.
But no… maybe they'd always been like this.
She shook her head.
Yesterday they'd even promised to show their best selves before him—to earn custom-built skills and racial blessings.
And now? They were just a pair of sunbathing slugs.
"Honestly…"
A crab tried to make a break for it, scrabbling free of her basket and scuttling toward the sea.
"Ha! Foolish mortal! You'll never catch—"
Crunch.
Its shell shattered under her absentminded grip.
"…Oops. Wasted good meat."
Glancing around to make sure Taro hadn't noticed, Fanan quickly dug a hole and buried the evidence.
(End of Chapter)
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