Genshin Impact: A Guide to the Unofficial History of Teyvat — Chapter 79

Chapter 79: This is the Manifestation of the Era of Human Rule

The heavy mahogany doors of the office clicked shut, leaving Ningguang alone in the sprawling silence of her sanctum. Yelan’s parting words still echoed in the air, casting unexpected ripples across the Tianquan’s usually placid state of mind.

‘More interesting than the Stove God? More deep?’

She sank gracefully back into the plush cushions of her high-backed chair. Her crimson eyes drifted toward the locked drawer where she had just secured the scandalous little booklet. The rhythmic, almost imperceptible tapping of her gold-clawed fingertips against the polished desk betrayed a rare flicker of inner unrest.

“Baiwen,” she called out. Her voice was soft, yet it carried effortlessly through the cavernous office.

Almost instantly, the door glided open on silent hinges. Her capable secretary stepped inside, bowing her head in immediate deference. “Lady Ningguang. Your instructions?”

“Look into something for me.” Ningguang’s tone was smooth and steady, but her next words made Baiwen blink in mild surprise. “Collect every publication authored under the pen name Li Xin currently circulating in the market. I do not care about the genre, the binding, or the back-alley channels they are sold through. Gather them as comprehensively as possible and deliver them to my desk.”

“Li Xin?” Baiwen’s brow furrowed slightly as she mentally sifted through the registry of Liyue’s prominent scholars and renowned novelists. The name drew a complete blank. “Right away, my Lady.”

“And remember,” Ningguang added, her gaze sharpening into a piercing crimson glare, “handle this with the utmost discretion. There is no need to alert the Millelith or stir up unnecessary whispers.”

“Understood.” Baiwen offered another crisp bow, retreating with practiced grace and easing the door shut.

Alone once more, Ningguang leaned her head back, closing her eyes as she massaged her faintly throbbing temples. The daily administrative labyrinth of Liyue Harbor, the delicate diplomatic tightropes walked with foreign nations, the endless maintenance of her sprawling commercial webs—it was already enough to drain the spirit of any mortal. Now, a mysterious peddler of unofficial history had been thrown into the crucible.

Yet, her sharp intuition, coupled with Yelan’s uncharacteristic amusement, whispered that the ink flowing from this Li Xin’s brush held far more weight than mere teahouse gossip.

Several days later, a precarious tower of booklets, bound in everything from cheap twine to fine silk, sat squarely upon Ningguang’s desk.

The titles emblazoned across their covers were a masterclass in sheer, unadulterated audacity:

The Wanderings of Shi Po, Part One: Young Master Jueyun Chili Forgot His Mora Again.

The Geo Archon’s Secret: A Synthesized God and the Tragedy of His Late Wife.

The Twin Deities Behind the Name Morax and the Contract of Life and Death!

The Guardian Yaksha’s Dilemma: Karmic Debt is Nothing Compared to Insomnia.

Ningguang stared at the stack. She took a slow, measured breath, steadying her nerves before casually plucking the top volume—The Wanderings of Shi Po—and flipping it open.

Initially, she maintained her signature composure. Her eyes scanned the text with the detached efficiency of a seasoned politician. But that composure fractured the moment she reached a particularly vivid scene: a certain Young Master Jueyun Chili purchasing the entire stock of raw ore at Jade Mystery in a single, sweeping gesture. Then, without so much as a twitch in his expression, the man instructed the shopkeeper to forward the astronomical bill directly to Yuehai Pavilion, explicitly demanding that a girl named Ningguang reimburse him.

The porcelain teacup in her hand halted halfway to her lips.

She had weathered economic collapses, sea monster invasions, and Fatui schemes, but she was genuinely blindsided by the sheer, brazen gall of this author’s imagination. To write such a scenario with such vivid conviction…

Suppressing the incredulous scoff rising in her throat, she forced herself to keep reading. Yet, the deeper she explored the stack, the more complex her expression grew.

The wild conjectures about Rex Lapis being a synthesized entity. The scandalous economic deduction that the fundamental essence of Mora was merely counterfeit rock currency. The relentless teasing about the Conqueror of Demons stunting his own physical growth due to chronic sleep deprivation. The inner monologue of a god haggling over discounted groceries… The prose was dripping with hilarious, irreverent ridicule. But buried beneath the layers of comedy was a razor-sharp deconstruction of Liyue’s most sacred legends, and a startling, almost terrifying proximity to the truth.

The author employed wildly exaggerated caricatures to cast an alternative silhouette of Liyue’s Adepti. They read like the fever dreams of a madman, yet they possessed an uncanny ability to make the reader pause at a highly specific detail and wonder, ‘Could it actually be true?’This transcended mere fiction. It was as if the author was wielding an absurd, comedic brush to paint the edges of an unknown reality.’True? Or false?’

The two words chased each other through her mind, tangling into a knot she could not immediately unravel.

By the time Ningguang finally closed the final booklet, the sky beyond her expansive windows had bruised into a deep twilight. The golden lights of the Jade Chamber flared to life, casting a warm, flickering glow over her contemplative features.

She finally understood Yelan’s assessment. It was much more interesting.

This Li Xin was not just spinning idle tales to earn a few Mora; they were actively participating in the re-interpretation of Liyue’s divine history. In the wake of Rex Lapis’s departure, such narratives were incredibly sensitive, and paradoxically, incredibly precious.

‘Though the boundary between Adepti and mortals remains,’Ningguang mused silently, her gaze sweeping over the glittering harbor below,’the absolute, unquestionable authority surrounding the divine has quietly begun to fracture.’

Perhaps it was this very loosening of the old world’s grip that allowed a mind like Li Xin’s to flourish. Because of these absurd stories, the common folk were beginning to discuss those once-untouchable beings with a relaxed, almost familiar warmth.

This, in its own strange way, was the ultimate manifestation of the era of human rule.

But as the Tianquan, she could not afford to view this purely as a fascinating cultural shift. The unchecked circulation of these works was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it could shatter the delicate reverence between mortals and Adepti, sparking outrage or panic. If the populace actually started believing their Archon was a synthetic fake and their currency was counterfeit rock, the economic and social fallout would be catastrophic. Though she knew the chances of anyone taking it literally were slim, a politician always planned for the worst.

On the other hand, it could bridge the gap between the divine and the mundane, injecting Liyue’s culture with a vibrant, resilient new life.

The secret lay in moderation. In guidance.

“To dare write of the Archon and the Adepti with such brazen familiarity…” Ningguang murmured, her manicured finger tracing the scandalous embossed title of Crafting Deities. “Is it pure, foolish recklessness? Or… do you have a backer?”

She reached out, pressing a hidden mechanism at the corner of her mahogany desk. “Baiwen,” she instructed softly into the acoustic tube. “Continue your investigation into Li Xin, but elevate its priority. Do not focus on unmasking the author’s identity. Instead, monitor the circulation radius of these works and closely observe the public’s reaction.”

She needed to know if the citizens of Liyue Harbor were treating these books as harmless entertainment, or if they were reading between the lines. It would serve as a perfect barometer for the shifting hearts of her people.

“Additionally,” Ningguang added after a brief pause, a shrewd light dancing in her eyes, “if you encounter any potentially inappropriate remarks regarding the divine, you are to temporarily turn a blind eye.”

She wanted to see exactly what kind of bizarre, magnificent fruit could bloom in Liyue’s cultural soil when given the fertilizer of official tacit consent. Perhaps this mysterious Li Xin could stir the stagnant waters, allowing the city to radiate a more diverse vitality in this new age.

Ningguang rose from her chair and approached the floor-to-ceiling window. The bustling, prosperous glow of Liyue Harbor stretched out beneath her feet like a sea of fallen stars. A slow, meaningful smile curved her lips.

“Li Xin… just who are you? And whose secrets will your pen pierce next?”

While the city below reveled in its nocturnal prosperity, high above in the floating palace of the Jade Chamber, the Tianquan had officially reserved a space on her mental chessboard for an anonymous fanfiction author. The weight of these seemingly playful words rivaled the heaviest diplomatic missives from Snezhnaya.

“After all,” Ningguang whispered to the glass, her smile deepening into one of absolute, calculated control, “an author who dares to write about the Geo Archon demanding reimbursements and haggling for discounts, the Conqueror of Demons stunting his growth from insomnia, and Guoba hiding his identity as the God of Cookery… such an author is, in themselves, a rare and spectacular scenery of Liyue Harbor. Are they not?”