At the same moment, the battle in The Chasm's underground mining area entered its final stage.
Though Xiao and Yelan had prepared meticulously with Yuto's help, they had still underestimated the strangeness of that space.
A living labyrinth of illusions, time that flowed backward, memories that turned into blades.
Worst of all, every person present carried Yuto in their minds, and the space read them like open books.
Great Fireball Destruction. Qilin. One-Horned White Whale. Great Waterfall. Kamui. Wood Golem.
Six techniques, six nightmares.
Even diluted to a tenth of their real power, the illusory Yuto toyed with Xiao until the Yaksha bled from a dozen wounds.
Paimon, floating behind Lumine's shoulder, wailed,
"If a fake Yuto is already this scary, I'm never angering the real one again!"
Yelan, wiping blood from her lip, laughed bitterly.
"Congratulations. You just survived a Regent-level beatdown, courtesy of your own memories."
Only when Yelan pointed out the rule—"the deeper the impression, the stronger the clone"—did they fight back.
Lumine imagined Yuto as a sleepy teen who overslept breakfast.
Itto pictured him tripping over his own cape.
Kuki Shinobu recalled the day he burned his tongue on almond tofu and cried.
The illusion shrank, faltered, and finally shattered under Xiao's spear.
They stumbled back to the central chamber.
Yanfei slammed the last talisman onto the taiwei dial; golden lines spider-webbed across the floor.
"Reverse sequence—now!"
Light flared.
The exit tore open above them like a sunrise.
But the vengeful spirits of five hundred fallen soldiers poured in, a black tide of screaming faces.
Xiao's knees buckled; his Adeptal energy guttered like a candle in wind.
He met everyone's eyes once, pressed the last of his power into the dial, and flung them upward.
Darkness swallowed him.
A heartbeat later, a golden platform of pure Geo erupted beneath his boots.
It rocketed skyward, gentle yet unstoppable, carrying the unconscious Yaksha into daylight.
Xiao blinked against the sun.
Far up the cliff, a tall figure in earthen robes turned away, coat tails fluttering like a dragon's banner.
Xiao's lips moved soundlessly.
"…Lord Rex Lapis."
On the ridge, Zhongli allowed himself the faintest smile.
"Well done, Alatus."
Below, Yuto leaned against a boulder, arms folded, grinning at Shenhe.
"Told you he'd show. Pay up."
Shenhe's ears burned crimson.
She stepped close, rose on tiptoe, and brushed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Collect later," she whispered. "In private."
Yuto forgot how to breathe.
Paimon, floating past with a victory skewer in each hand, rolled her eyes.
"Get a room, lovebirds! And Yuto—you still owe me three seafood dinners for the trauma!"
Lumine flicked Paimon's forehead.
"Make it five. I had to imagine him in bunny pajamas."
From the cliff top, Zhongli's voice drifted down, soft as wind chimes.
"Traveler, when you see the Regent again, tell him the opera tickets are on me. The Divine Damsel of Devastation deserves a second viewing."
Yuto lifted a hand in salute.
"Will do, Mr. Zhongli. And next time, front row—promised."
Far behind them, Xiao stood alone on the sunlit ridge, spear planted like a flag.
The ghosts were gone.
The weight on his shoulders felt… lighter.
Bosacius was waiting somewhere beyond the veil, and for the first time in centuries, Xiao believed he could reach him.
He exhaled, turned his face to the sky, and vanished in a swirl of teal wind.
The Chasm quieted.
Only the echo of laughter—Paimon's, Itto's, Yanfei's—bounced between the cliffs, bright as bells.
Another crisis ended.
Another debt of dinner incurred.
Another step closer to the future Yuto and Shenhe would share under Liyue's eternal amber sun.
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