Chapter 192.
Naturally, the festival offered far more than just the "Martial Arts Exhibition." "Culinary Showdown." and "Guess Who I Am."
There were several other high-profile events scheduled, but their start times were staggered. For instance, the highly anticipated competitive eating contest didn't open its registers until dusk, and Venti's primary objective—the exclusive wine-tasting summit—was strictly an evening affair.
"These mortal diversions—they appear somewhat interesting."
Raiden Ei murmured. Her violet eyes scanned the plaza, a rare, genuine spark of curiosity cutting through her usual stoicism. She stared specifically at the bustling prep stations of the "Culinary Showdown." looking undeniably eager to test her skills.
Raiden Makoto, meanwhile, had her gaze fixed firmly on the elevated platform of the "Martial Arts Exhibition." She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"This is quite an intriguing prospect. Having only recently been resurrected, my physical conditioning and martial reflexes have degraded significantly. A low-stakes tournament might be the perfect environment to recalibrate my edge."
Nahida, on the other hand, had locked her absolute focus onto the "Guess Who I Am" pavilion. On one level, she found the analytical premise genuinely stimulating.
On another, far more practical level—after rapidly scanning the prize boards across the plaza, she had mathematically determined that this specific activity offered the highest Mora payout by a massive margin!
As the reigning Lesser Lord Kusanali, burdened with the crushing economic realities of rebuilding a nation, she possessed a painfully acute understanding of exactly how desperate Sumeru was for liquid capital.
Therefore, she was absolutely, strategically mandated to participate and conquer this event!
"Huh?"
Futsu Mitama blinked in profound, sudden panic. Listening to the casual declarations of Makoto, Ei, and Nahida, a massive knot formed in his stomach.
"Hold on. Isn't this... highly inappropriate?"
He genuinely felt this was a catastrophic idea. Although Raiden Makoto was universally acknowledged as the weakest combatant among the original Seven, she was still a literal Archon.
Even Guizhong and Nahida, who resided at the absolute bottom tier of divine combat strength, possessed baseline parameters that would allow them to effortlessly, unilaterally slaughter their way through a mortal martial arts tournament without breaking a sweat.
"I am merely seeking to hone my fundamental katas. My physical vessel is practically rusting; it is imperative I engage in some light cardiovascular exercise."
Makoto smiled serenely, viewing the tournament as a delightful, mundane opportunity.
Since they had explicitly agreed to enjoy the festival, she intended to maximize her experience. Without waiting for further objection, she gracefully adjusted her disguised kimono and walked purposefully toward the registration desk of the Martial Arts Exhibition.
" Mitama, I am requisitioning this time to participate in a competition."
Raiden Ei announced, already power-walking toward the Culinary Showdown with a terrifying intensity in her eyes.
Nahida looked up at Maha Rukkhadevata and Futsu Mitama, her enormous, sparkling green eyes silently pleading for permission to assault the "Guess Who I Am" pavilion.
Because that specific event had already commenced, entering mid-competition would require her to pass a grueling, rapid-fire series of preliminary qualification assessments.
"Go, go." Futsu Mitama sighed heavily, massaging his temples as he watched Nahida prepare her intellectual assault. "If the opportunity arises, please try to offer some subtle, constructive guidance to the mortals you completely dismantle."
"But you must not, under any circumstances, expose your divine identity."
Rukkhadevata interjected smoothly, laying down the absolute prime directive.
Blowing their cover and accidentally sabotaging Morax's fake-death operation would be a logistical nightmare. But more importantly, if it was publicly revealed that the dignified, sovereign Lesser Lord Kusanali had entered a carnival game just to economically bully mortal merchants— it would be a diplomatic catastrophe of epic proportions.
"Understood!"
Nahida nodded with absolute, military seriousness, cementing her operational parameters. Then, she happily skipped off toward the analytical pavilion.
"Well, things are certainly escalating."
Venti chuckled. He personally had zero interest in participating in the current daytime roster. His entire tactical focus was aggressively locked onto the evening's drinking summit.
A festival without wine was a tragedy! As the undisputed 'Wine-Guzzler' of Mondstadt, Venti was practically vibrating with anticipation.
Furthermore, Captain Beidou had personally informed him yesterday that tonight's drinking event was a massive, collaborative venture between the Crux Fleet and several elite merchant guilds. They had imported a terrifying volume of ultra-premium, exotic vintages from across the seven nations.
Many of the slated bottles weren't even available on the open commercial market. They were exclusive, private-reserve batches brewed by legendary master vintners utilizing highly classified, esoteric fermentation techniques.
Regardless of their objective taste profile, the sheer complexity and rarity of the alcohol guaranteed an experience far beyond the pedestrian swill served in standard taverns.
This intelligence made Venti incredibly eager for nightfall!!!
Aside from the promise of legendary alcohol, he couldn't care less about the rest of the festival.
"Escalating? This is becoming a logistical nightmare."
Futsu Mitama grumbled helplessly. He felt as though he had been abruptly demoted from diplomatic escort to an overworked babysitter walking through a minefield.
Because if Makoto, Ei, or Nahida exhibited even a fraction of their anomalous divine authority and drew suspicion, he would have to instantly formulate a cover story, or alternatively, grab them and violently exfiltrate the city.
If their true identities were exposed, the resulting political fallout would be apocalyptic.
Honestly, if it weren't for Rex Lapis's highly sensitive, ongoing fake-death operation, Futsu Mitama would have gladly let them unleash their power. The political fallout would be irrelevant.
In fact, it would generate a legendary, poetic narrative: Foreign Archons descend upon Liyue Harbor to joyously partake in the Rite of Descension festivities.
It would be universally celebrated as a beautiful diplomatic gesture.
However, if actionable intelligence leaked today confirming that Barbatos, Beelzebul, and the Dendro Archon were actively partying in Liyue Harbor—and then Rex Lapis was 'violently assassinated' from the sky tomorrow—
What conclusions do you think the international intelligence community would draw?
Therefore, absolute operational security was paramount.
Despite his mounting anxiety, Futsu Mitama dutifully followed Raiden Makoto toward the Martial Arts Exhibition arena. She hadn't immediately taken the stage; a preliminary bout was currently underway.
It was a fierce, high-intensity duel.
A muscular, heavily scarred man wielding a white-tasseled spear was locked in brutal combat against a young, agile swordsman.
Although neither combatant possessed the elemental authority of a Vision, the sheer kinetic force and refined technique behind their strikes clearly indicated they were elite, seasoned martial artists.
Futsu Mitama analyzed the spear-wielder's biomechanics.
Is that the foundational spear kata of the Millelith vanguard?
The man's respiratory rhythm was stable. Every single thrust and sweep was anchored with the unyielding, crushing weight of bedrock, projecting an absolute defense that offered zero tactical openings.
Conversely, the young swordsman's footwork was beginning to betray his mounting anxiety. He had clearly run the tactical calculus and realized that in a prolonged war of attrition against this specific opponent, his defeat was mathematically guaranteed.
Therefore, his only viable strategy was to aggressively force a critical opening by unleashing a rapid, overwhelming flurry of strikes in a compressed timeframe.
But as the martial adage goes: The more desperate the strike, the wider the flaw.
And compounding his desperation was—
"Senior Brother!!! You can do it!!!! Senior Brother, you are the absolute best!!!"
A young woman standing near the front of the crowd was screaming at the top of her lungs. She then pointed aggressively at the spear-wielder on stage and yelled,
"You should just surrender right now!!! My Senior Brother has already completely suppressed you! You can't even breathe under his assault!"
"My Senior Brother is an elite disciple of the Guhua Clan, and he hasn't even engaged his true stance yet! If he actually gets serious, he's going to severely injure you!"
Hearing the shrill, obnoxious commentary, Futsu Mitama's eyes narrowed. He looked closely at the screaming girl, and then back at the sweating swordsman on stage.
Good lord. The NPCs I most desperately wanted to physically assault during my gaming days have actually manifested before me.
Yes, Futsu Mitama instantly recognized them. Were these two not the exact protagonists of the notoriously infuriating Liyue Daily Commission, "A Little Raid to Clean Up"?
A Senior Brother whose entire cognitive function was consumed by swordsmanship and misplaced ambition, accompanied by a simple-minded, toxically arrogant Junior Sister who existed solely to cling to him.
The character archetype was standard, but the fundamental issue was the Junior Sister's violently abrasive dialogue. During the game, she never offered a single word of respect or gratitude to the Traveler, constantly belittling their efforts.
While grinding that specific daily quest, Futsu Mitama had frequently found himself praying for a red health bar to spontaneously materialize above her head so he could legally unleash an Elemental Burst on her!
This Junior Sister was truly, fundamentally brainless. Screaming encouragement was standard crowd behavior, but to actively hurl toxic, humiliating insults at the opposing fighter? Did she lack the basic cognitive awareness to realize that verbal interference could catastrophically disrupt an opponent's focus?
Or worse, disrupt her own fighter's focus?
Sure enough, as the Junior Sister continued to frantically, loudly boast about her Senior Brother's invincible might—
The young swordsman's respiratory rhythm fractured.
It was impossible to determine the exact cause. Perhaps his desperate, sustained barrage of rapid attacks had simply degraded his biomechanical form, creating a micro-flaw in his guard.
Or perhaps, hearing his Junior Sister publicly broadcast such arrogant, delusional claims forced the straightforward young man to experience a wave of profound, crippling embarrassment, mentally distracting him at a critical microsecond.
Regardless of the variable, the sturdy spear-wielder did not let the localized collapse pass.
He instantly inverted his stance from absolute defense to aggressive offense. The heavy spear blurred, thrusting forward with terrifying, explosive velocity directly inside the swordsman's fractured guard.
Three violent exchanges later, the young man's longsword was brutally knocked from his grip, clattering loudly onto the wooden stage.
"Ah!!!! Senior Brother!!!!"
The Junior Sister shrieked in absolute horror, her fragile reality shattering.
"I have lost."
The young man exhaled a long, heavy sigh, looking down at his disarmed blade. He respectfully cupped his fists toward the muscular man, his tone earnest and devoid of malice.
"Once I have further refined my Guhua arts, I will humbly seek your guidance once more."
Acknowledging the young man's honor, the sturdy man lowered his spear and returned the salute.
"You are far too modest. I have several years of physical conditioning and combat experience over you. If we were chronologically identical, I highly doubt my defense could have withstood your assault for more than a few exchanges."
The young man offered a tight, polite smile, though he felt no joy at the consolation. The absolute truth of the martial world was binary: a victory was a victory, and a defeat was a defeat. Furthermore, his younger Junior Brother—Xingqiu—possessed a mastery of the Guhua arts that mathematically eclipsed his own. Age was not a valid excuse.
"That's exactly right, Senior Brother! He only won because he's older than you!"
The Junior Sister immediately screamed, desperately attempting to protect his ego.
Her toxic outburst instantly drew a wave of bizarre, judgmental stares from the surrounding crowd.
Does this girl actively harbor a blood feud against her own Senior Brother?
The sheer humiliation caused the young man's face to flush a violent shade of crimson. He bowed deeply to the sturdy man, wordlessly apologizing for his Junior Sister's horrific lack of discipline. He quickly retrieved his sword, vaulted off the stage, snapped a harsh reprimand at the girl, and practically sprinted away into the crowd, radiating intense mortification.
The Junior Sister stood frozen in confusion for a second before frantically chasing after him.
"Sigh... 'A Little Raid to Clean Up' indeed."
Futsu Mitama muttered, shaking his head.
"If it weren't for her constant, abrasive sonic interference, that young man likely wouldn't have suffered a collapse so quickly."
Venti observed critically. Although the Anemo Archon abhorred violence, his centuries of observation granted him an absolute, flawless comprehension of combat psychology.
"The destructive power of unchecked emotion."
Maha Rukkhadevata noted softly, having witnessed identical tragedies play out across millennia.
On the stage, the victorious spear-wielder also stepped down to recover his stamina.
A well-dressed woman, operating as the tournament host, strode to the center of the arena.
"It is highly regrettable that the esteemed disciple of the Guhua Clan did not survive the fourth round of challenges! However, our next challenger brings a truly exotic flavor to the exhibition. We have an independent Ronin hailing from the distant shores of Inazuma!"
Raiden Makoto slowly ascended the wooden stairs. She casually gripped a standard, unsharpened practice tachi—a courtesy weapon provided by the tournament organizers to ensure compliance with the non-lethal mandate.
"Alright, here we go. The main event is officially commencing."
Venti rubbed his hands together gleefully, pulling out a Kamera to aggressively document the incoming slaughter.
"Sigh..."
Futsu Mitama let out another long-suffering sigh, but dutifully retrieved his own recording device.
Rukkhadevata simply smiled, choosing not to comment. Her attention was already drifting back toward the "Guess Who I Am" pavilion, where Nahida appeared to be systematically dismantling her first intellectual opponent.
Below the stage, the crowd was buzzing with animated discussion. The sudden appearance of an Inazuman Ronin was a massive novelty, but the murmurs quickly turned skeptical. The challenger looked remarkably fragile.
Although Raiden Makoto had utilized illusion magecraft to alter her facial structure and physical dimensions, she could not mask her fundamental, intrinsic aura. She radiated an aura of profound, suffocating gentleness and maternal warmth. To the martial artists in the crowd, she looked absolutely nothing like a hardened killer.
From the opposite side of the arena, a young, arrogant-looking swordsman swaggered onto the stage.
The host immediately launched into her introduction.
"This challenger is a familiar face to the local arena! An elite disciple of the Heavenly Sword Sect! Everyone, please direct your attention to the impending clash!"
Her duty fulfilled, the host practically vaulted off the stage, leaving the combatants to their business.
"Big Sister, there's no shame in stepping down. It's not too late to officially surrender."
The young swordsman sneered, overflowing with toxic confidence. As a trained martial artist, a single glance was enough for him to calculate the threat level of the woman standing before him.
Whether it was her overly relaxed biomechanical stance, or the incredibly loose, informal way she gripped the tachi—she was a walking catalog of fatal flaws!
In the martial world, a stance like that meant one of two things: either she was a mythological, untouchable grandmaster, or she was a pampered noblewoman who had taken three days of sword lessons and thought she was a warrior.
Given the statistical probabilities, the swordsman was betting his life savings on the latter. Having already humiliated several arrogant, untrained nobles during the preliminary rounds, he felt obligated to offer a 'kind' warning before brutally dismantling her.
"Has the bout officially commenced?"
Raiden Makoto ignored his taunt entirely, calmly asking for clarification on the rules of engagement.
"Hmph. Yeah, it's officially started." the swordsman nodded dismissively. He lowered his blade, adopting a relaxed posture. "Big Sister, I'll even let you have the first strike. Otherwise, I'm afraid you won't even—"
The young swordsman never finished his sentence.
In a localized manipulation of physics that defied human comprehension, Raiden Makoto simply ceased to exist at her starting coordinates, instantaneously manifesting directly inside the swordsman's guard.
The cold, blunt edge of the practice tachi was resting gently, immovably against his carotid artery.
"So fast!!!"
"It was instantaneous! A literal teleportation?!"
"That woman... she's a monster!"
"What the hell is the background of this Inazuman Ronin? I didn't even register a muscle twitch!"
"The Heavenly Sword disciple got completely styled on because he dropped his guard."
The crowd below erupted into a chaotic symphony of gasps and terrified whispers. Anyone possessing even a fraction of martial insight instantly recognized the apocalyptic disparity in power.
"This... I..."
The young swordsman's face violently transitioned from a humiliated flush to a terrified, bloodless pale. Feeling the cold steel pressing against his pulse, he made the only logical, biological choice available.
"I surrender."
While his catastrophic defeat was partially due to his arrogant underestimation of the target, the absolute truth was that his neural pathways hadn't even registered her movement. The opponent had simply bypassed reality and placed a blade at his throat.
"Do not ever underestimate the enemies standing across from you."
Raiden Makoto offered a soft, chillingly polite critique.
The young swordsman swallowed hard, offering a frantic, terrified nod. He didn't dare utter a single word of protest. He practically threw himself off the stage and vanished into the crowd.
The female host cautiously crept back onto the stage, eyeing Raiden Makoto with profound, wary respect. She quickly cleared her throat.
"N-Next up to challenge the reigning champion is Master Lu, universally renowned in the harbor as the 'Iron Fist'!"
A heavily muscled, middle-aged man marched onto the stage. He carried no weapons, his knuckles wrapped in thick, calloused bindings. His expression was a mask of grim severity. He locked eyes with Raiden Makoto.
"You possess terrifying speed. But I assure you, I will not commit the fatal error of underestimating you."
The middle-aged man immediately dropped into a low, aggressively fortified martial stance, his entire focus locked onto the Inazuman woman.
The host, sensing the escalating tension, practically sprinted off the stage.
The exact second her foot hit the ground, the 'Iron Fist' violently exploded forward, charging Raiden Makoto like a rampaging Rishboland Tiger.
But in the next sequential frame, Raiden Makoto vanished from his optical targeting.
A sudden, freezing sensation materialized against his neck. The blunt edge of the tachi, gleaming white under the Liyue sun, was already resting intimately against his throat.
"I surrender."
The middle-aged man instantly froze, raising both hands in absolute defeat. The tactical data was undeniable: they were operating in entirely different dimensional planes of combat.
The tournament host, having accurately calculated the apocalyptic threat level of the Inazuman Ronin, didn't even bother returning to the stage to conduct formal introductions. It was a waste of time. She simply gestured for the next queued challenger to ascend.
Moments later, a fierce-looking young girl wielding a segmented whip vaulted onto the stage.
"Seventy-fifth generation successor of the Maiden Gate! Please guide my technique!"
The result was an identical, one-strike execution.
Next up was the fourth-round challenger—the exact same spear-wielding powerhouse who had previously dismantled the Guhua Clan disciple.
"Former Millelith vanguard! Please guide my technique!"
And then, matching the established statistical model, the elite spearman was instantly incapacitated in a single, unobservable strike.
The crowd was practically hyperventilating.
Where in the name of the Seven did this absolute demon come from?!
The four challengers she had systematically humiliated were universally recognized as apex-tier, first-rate masters within Liyue's martial underworld. Yet, against this nameless Inazuman Ronin, not a single one possessed the biomechanical capability to survive a single exchange?!
The organizers of the Martial Arts Exhibition, realizing their prize pool was currently being held hostage by a mythological entity, panicked and authorized the deployment of their absolute, top-tier 'ringer' combatants.
But it was a futile gesture. Even the organizers' elite assassins failed to track her movements, suffering the exact same, humiliating one-strike defeat.
Standing in the center of the stage, Raiden Makoto actually felt a profound sense of confusion.
She had intentionally, meticulously throttled her divine parameters, compressing her output to mathematically match the baseline combat strength of Kuki Shinobu.
Yet, she still hadn't encountered a single mortal capable of withstanding her second strike.
She had genuinely entered the tournament with the sole intention of engaging in light cardiovascular exercise; she had absolutely no desire to bully the local populace. In her analytical framework, locking her strength to Kuki Shinobu's level should have provided an adequate, mildly engaging workout.
Yet, across a half-dozen consecutive matches, she hadn't encountered a single fighter who possessed the parameters to even approach Kuki Shinobu's baseline.
Even the combatants wielding Visions displayed tragically mediocre tactical output, utilizing their elemental authority with an agonizingly crude, unrefined methodology.
Just as the tournament official was preparing to announce the initiation of the eighth consecutive round—
"BOOM—!!!"
A catastrophic, concussive explosion violently detonated from the adjacent plaza.
Futsu Mitama and Venti instantly snapped their heads toward the source of the blast.
The shockwave had originated directly from the Culinary Showdown pavilion!!!
BOOM—!!!
A massive explosion rattled the cooking pavilions in the distance, sending a plume of black smoke into the sky.
Futsu Mitama nearly jumped out of his skin. His head whipped toward the Culinary Showdown. He looked back at Raiden Makoto—who was currently busy humiliating the entire martial arts underworld of Liyue with a wooden sword—and quickly turned to Venti.
"Hold the fort. Don't let her escalate things. I'm going to see what just happened next door!"
With a swirl of Anemo energy, Mitama vanished from his spot, sprinting directly toward the epicenter of the blast.
Venti blinked, looking slightly disappointed. He genuinely wanted to go investigate the explosion—there was always excellent dramatic material to be mined from culinary disasters! But as he scanned the martial arts crowd, a flash of unmistakable golden-blonde hair caught his eye.
A different, far more mischievous light ignited in the Anemo Archon's eyes. He immediately abandoned any thought of following Mitama, anchoring himself firmly to the arena railing with a wide grin.
"Eh?"
Maha Rukkhadevata, possessing the supreme awareness of the God of Wisdom, also spotted the familiar figure in the crowd. A look of genuine, delighted surprise crossed her face. "Well~ now that is certainly an unexpected twist."
"Should we tell Makoto to step down?" she asked softly, her eyes twinkling. "If the Traveler recognizes her, the resulting diplomatic situation could be quite... complicated."
Venti, however, shook his head with an easy, carefree laugh. "Relax! We have to put our faith in Makoto's disguise. Besides, didn't she explicitly say she wanted to warm up her muscles? This is the perfect test for her!"
"And honestly... even if her cover gets blown, it's not a big deal." Venti continued, his eyes gleaming like a bard who had just found the perfect climax for his epic ballad. "At worst, we just tell her Makoto was bored in Inazuma, snuck out to play at the festival, and ask her to keep it a secret. It's foolproof!"
Rukkhadevata remained silent, simply offering a gentle, knowing smile. Internally, she entirely agreed with the Bard. Although this was a highly volatile 'unexpected variable,' the situation was completely under control.
After all, the blonde Traveler was an active member of their Chat Group. Once Mitama returned from his culinary damage control, a brief explanation would be enough to clear everything up.
Meanwhile, Futsu Mitama arrived at the Culinary Showdown.
The first thing he saw was the chaotic aftermath. A young civilian chef, his face completely charred and coughing up little puffs of black smoke, was being carried away on a stretcher by the Millelith. The surrounding crowd of spectators was buzzing with animated, wild gossip.
"I have officially achieved enlightenment! I just witnessed a man successfully turn a stir-fry into a high-yield explosive!"
"That was terrifying! I'm so glad I was standing in the back. Those judges sitting in the splash zone look traumatized~"
"Hahahahaha! Relax, it's just a layer of soot, nobody got hurt. You have to admit, though, that chef has a real talent for alchemy."
"Honestly, a little explosion is perfectly fine. You should all be dropping to your knees and thanking the Adeptus that Director Hu of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor didn't enter the competition."
"Wait, what?! Director Hu? As in, the seventy-seventh Director? Are we talking about the same prankster???"
"The very same. Legend has it her cooking is specifically calibrated for the digestive tracts of the deceased. One bite forces a vengeful spirit to instantly calm down. Two bites forces a phantom to sprint toward the afterlife. Three bites..."
"Three bites what?! Don't leave me hanging!"
"Three bites, and not even Rex Lapis descending from the heavens can save your soul~"
"Is her cooking truly that apocalyptic?! What actually happens if a normal person eats it?"
"Don't even try it. Dr. Baizhu at Bubu Pharmacy has explicitly stated that Director Hu's cooking is fundamentally incompatible with human biology. If you eat it, you're guaranteed to be bedridden for three days straight."
"Wait, I heard a rumor about that! During that massive Moonchase festival, didn't that little floating fairy, Paimon, act as a judge? Someone told me she ate a single bite of Director Hu's 'Suspicious' dish, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she literally died on the spot!"
"Ah? She died?! I heard she just slipped into a violent coma! Is Director Hu's cooking actually classified as a lethal weapon?!"
"I don't know the exact medical diagnosis, but the streets are saying she went straight to Celestia!"
Listening to the spiraling, chaotic gossip, Mitama felt his eye twitch. The speed at which Liyue Harbor's rumor mill functioned was terrifying. How had a simple cooking failure devolved into a localized mythology where Hu Tao had canonically murdered Paimon?!
However, the absolute, objective truth was that the soot-covered man on the stretcher was definitively not Raiden Ei. Confirming that allowed Mitama to exhale a massive sigh of relief.
When the explosion happened, he had genuinely suffered a mini heart attack, terrified that Ei had blown up the pavilion within five minutes of arriving.
Up on the main stage, a highly stressed female host stepped to the microphone, frantically dabbing sweat and soot from her forehead with a silk handkerchief.
"Ahem! Please, everyone, remain calm! We just had a minor... combustion anomaly, but please don't let it ruin the mood. After all, turning a vegetable medley into a pyrotechnic display is quite impressive in its own right!" she laughed nervously, desperately trying to salvage the atmosphere.
"And now, moving right along! Our next challenger is an exotic culinary artisan hailing from the distant islands of Inazuma! She operates under the moniker of the 'Inazuman Ronin.' Let us eagerly anticipate the gourmet masterpiece she will make today!"
With a forced, bright smile, the host initiated a round of applause.
Following the cue, the disguised Raiden Ei stepped gracefully onto the stage. She moved to stand beside the host, her expression an unreadable, absolute mask of aloof, sovereign detachment.
Mitama, however, knew Ei all too well. She wasn't trying to act like a mysterious, aloof master chef—she was just completely socially awkward! Whenever she encountered a situation she didn't know how to handle, her brain just blue-screened into absolute silence.
The female host, slightly intimidated by the heavy, oppressive aura the 'Ronin' radiated, forced a professional smile. "Excuse me, Miss Ronin. Could you tell us what specific dish you'll be preparing for the judges today?"
Hearing the prompt, Raiden Ei replied with flat, absolute calm.
"I shall make a unique creation."
"A unique creation?!" The host's eyes instantly sparkled, sensing a massive surge in entertainment value. "Do you mean an exclusive, proprietary recipe that you have personally researched and developed?"
The exact moment the phrase 'unique creation' echoed across the pavilion, the crowd went absolutely wild.
Within the culinary world of Teyvat, creating a truly unique, original dish required a chef to invest a staggering amount of time, trial-and-error, and inspiration. It was universally acknowledged that only a truly elite Master Chef would eventually forge a signature dish that defined their legacy.
Not everyone possessed the terrifying, chaotic culinary intuition of Xiangling, who could effortlessly throw slime condensate and Jueyun Chilis into a pot and invent a masterpiece on the fly.
Therefore, the crowd's perception of Raiden Ei instantly shifted. They were no longer looking at a novelty contestant; they were looking at a serious artisan. The panel of elite judges sitting at the tasting table physically straightened up, their expressions shifting into masks of severe, professional scrutiny.
Hushed, excited whispers began rippling through the audience.
Are you serious? A legitimate Master Chef is entering the civilian Cooking Contest? Isn't that like dropping a meteor on a Hilichurl camp?
Before Ei's arrival, not a single certified Master Chef had bothered to enter the competition. The logic was simple: the event was sponsored by Wanmin Restaurant. Elite chefs from Liuli Pavilion or Xinyue Kiosk refused to participate because beating up amateur cooks would damage their prestige. And if they entered to challenge the sponsors... well, Xiangling was not someone you wanted to mess with.
Wanmin Restaurant currently rivaled Liyue's most ancient, elite establishments entirely because of Xiangling's revolutionary menu. Smiley Yan Xiao at Wangshu Inn possessed incredible fundamentals, but his reputation was stuck in an awkward middle ground precisely because he couldn't churn out unique, signature dishes the way Xiangling did.
Consequently, the Cooking Contest was mostly populated by enthusiastic but mediocre amateurs.
Now, with a chef who explicitly claimed to possess a signature dish finally taking the stage, the crowd was starved for high-tier entertainment.
Recognizing the hype, the female host wisely chose to step back. "All required ingredients are prepped at the stations. Please, demonstrate your absolute mastery for Liyue Harbor!"
With that, the host practically vaulted off the stage. She had great situational awareness; the crowd wanted action, and she had no intention of becoming collateral damage if things exploded again.
Left alone on the center stage, Raiden Ei slowly turned her gaze toward the massive ingredient stations.
The ingredients provided were incredibly abundant. If it flew in the sky, ran on land, or swam in the ocean, its meat was available. Everything was kept perfectly fresh with specialized Cryo talismans, flanked by vibrant arrays of exotic fruits and vegetables from across Teyvat.
Raiden Ei did a rapid scan of the inventory and selected her components.
Suddenly, a crackling surge of violent purple Electro energy flared within the depths of her eyes!
She slapped her palm flat against the heavy wooden prep table.
The kinetic force launched dozens of selected ingredients high into the air!
SWISH—!!!
While she held herself back from pulling out the Musou Isshin to butcher vegetables, she did conjure a highly compressed, razor-sharp blade of pure Electro energy in her hand.
Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish—!!!
Suspended in mid-air, the ingredients were subjected to a terrifying, supersonic barrage. Raiden Ei sliced through them with absolute, mathematical perfection. It was a display of literal, divine martial arts applied to produce!
Ei had subjected herself to a grueling, intensive study of culinary theory for a full six months. Factoring in her status as the absolute pinnacle of martial arts in Inazuma, her blade work was flawless. Her speed in prepping the ingredients operated on a level that completely eclipsed mortal comprehension.
"What is this?! She's using active Electro elemental power?!" "Where the heck is her Vision? I don't see one!" "I don't know! It must be hidden under her clothes!!!" "Look at that blade work!!! That technique is insane! I have never, in my entire life, seen a chef prep food that fast!" "This woman is a verified Grandmaster! I had no idea Inazuma hid such terrifying culinary masters." "How does she compare to Master Lu or Mr. Cai?" "Are you blind? Those two are amateurs compared to her. The only mortals in Liyue who could challenge her are Xiangling and Smiley Yan Xiao!" "What?! Is she truly that amazing?!" "Absolutely!!!!"
"Furthermore, she is sustaining a highly volatile Electro blade! Achieving that level of precision requires a minimum of twenty years of brutal, unbroken martial discipline!" "Why do you say that? Isn't using a Vision just a matter of convenience?" "Absolute nonsense! Liyue Harbor has plenty of Vision bearers, yet only Master Xiangling has successfully integrated elemental power into top-tier cooking!"
"Having a Vision doesn't make you a master chef. But for the woman on that stage to manipulate raw Electro energy with such surgical precision to chop vegetables—she must have dedicated her entire life to the blade!"
To the trained eye, true mastery cannot be hidden. While Raiden Ei's final plated dishes historically triggered profound biological terror in those who ate them... her foundational preparation techniques were undeniably flawless.
"Her technical execution is undeniably impressive." Futsu Mitama muttered, watching her from the crowd. If they were strictly grading knife work and raw speed, both Kuki Shinobu and Kamisato Ayaka were inferior to Raiden Ei.
It was obvious Ei had put a massive amount of thought into cooking, which perfectly explained her desire to test her theories in a live tournament.
In less than thirty seconds, Raiden Ei had perfectly processed every single ingredient. She then shifted her terrifying gaze toward the heavy iron cookware.
Once again, she engaged her Electro authority.
"Pots! Pans! Bowls! Ladles! Submit to me!"
Caught within an invisible field of crackling purple energy, the heavy kitchen utensils were violently lifted from their racks. They glowed with an eerie, violet light. In that moment, the inanimate pots and pans seemed to come alive!
Every single utensil was assigned a rigid, automated task. Ingredients that needed to rest were seamlessly sorted into bowls, while the meats and aromatics slated for immediate high-heat searing were launched precisely into the massive iron wok.
And, without anyone seeing how she did it, the heavy gas stoves were violently ignited. The cooking oil hit its smoking point instantly. The moment the raw ingredients collided with the superheated steel, a massive, explosive sizzle echoed across the pavilion, releasing a rich, mouth-watering aroma that flooded the plaza.
This entire, automated symphony of telekinetic cooking also took less than thirty seconds.
Within a single, terrifying one-minute window, Raiden Ei had perfectly executed a prep phase that would have taken a normal Master Chef forty-five grueling minutes!
"WOW!!!!" "Oh, by the Seven!!!!" "It's a literal miracle!!!!" "Can Electro power actually be used like that in the kitchen?!!!" "Do all Vision bearers possess this kind of telekinetic control?! This is absurd!"
"Absolute nonsense! I'm an active Vision bearer, and I can personally guarantee you that 99.9% of us cannot do that!!!" "He's right! Please don't misunderstand! Normal Vision bearers are not operating on that terrifying level!!!"
The civilian crowd was in awe, assuming that because Ei was manipulating the elements, every Vision wielder in Teyvat could secretly cook like a god. This sudden spike in expectations caused the actual Vision bearers in the crowd to panic, frantically shouting disclaimers to separate their own mediocre abilities from the divine display on stage!
Up on the platform, Ei was completely in the zone. She gripped the heavy iron spatula and initiated the high-heat stir-fry phase.
Having observed the prep sequence and confirming that her control was stable, Mitama finally allowed his heart rate to slow down.
Thank the Archons. As long as she doesn't accidentally trigger an Overloaded reaction inside the wok, the pavilion won't explode.
Mitama had absolutely no way to calculate whether the final dish would be edible... but the chance of a mass-casualty event seemed low.
Why? Because Mitama had conducted extensive, highly unethical field testing on Ei's cooking using live Hilichurls in the jungles of Sumeru. He had discovered that she shared a trait with Hu Tao: while their food was psychologically traumatizing, it wasn't biologically lethal. At worst, it induced an immediate food coma.
Specifically, he had fed a sample of the mysterious soup Ei had once given Scaramouche to a Hilichurl. The monster took one sip, passed out cold, and woke up six hours later—strangely, with slightly enhanced strength! As long as the judges didn't chug the whole plate in one gulp, fatal toxicity was highly unlikely.
As a former food critic, Mitama knew the judges would only take a tiny, analytical bite anyway. They were safe.
"However... the entire preparation sequence appeared flawlessly executed." Mitama muttered, rubbing his chin in profound confusion. "Is it mathematically possible that a flawless cooking process can still yield a biological hazard?"
"If her cooking is like Hu Tao's, I suppose the only logical conclusion is... 'As expected of the chef?'"
Muttering the quiet complaint, Mitama turned and sprinted back toward the Martial Arts Exhibition. Nahida didn't need his supervision; with her Akasha-level intellect, she was undoubtedly running the "Guess Who I Am" pavilion like a ruthless casino boss.
Moments later, Mitama arrived back at the martial arts arena. The moment his boots hit the ground, he froze, utterly stunned by the scene on stage.
Because at that exact moment, Raiden Makoto—wielding her unsharpened practice tachi—was locked in brutal, high-speed combat against a young man wielding a massive, icy claymore!
And Mitama instantly recognized the challenger.
It was Chongyun! The earnest, popsicle-loving heir of Liyue's most elite exorcist clan, and the bearer of the legendary "Pure Yang Spirit."
(Incidentally, he also shared a complex family tree with Shenhe; the homicidal adeptus-in-training was his aunt.)
If you were to rank the combat strength of Liyue's younger generation—excluding Hu Tao, who fought life-or-death spiritual battles with the Netherworld daily—Chongyun's raw martial prowess was arguably at the very top.
After all, the primary targets for Liyue's exorcist clans weren't human criminals... they were the terrifying, lingering remnants of slaughtered ancient gods!