Genshin Impact: A Guide to the Unofficial History of Teyvat — Chapter 94

Chapter 94: The Truth of History Buried Beneath Rock and Time

The Jade Chamber.

“So, you’re saying that Melusine has started writing cooking guides in our Liyue?”

Yelan leaned against the heavy mahogany table, idly rolling a pair of cerulean dice between her knuckles. “Yes. As I mentioned before, she poses absolutely no threat to Liyue. In fact, she’s quite a breath of fresh air. Compared to certain troublesome individuals, her behavior is practically active and positive.”

“Indeed.” Ningguang glided back toward the desk, her silken dress trailing over the polished floorboards. She tapped a manicured fingernail against the cover of A Bite of Liyue. “One has elevated the presentation of Liyue’s traditional cuisine and enriched the dining tables of the common folk; the other, though possessing rather peculiar tastes, has broadened our horizons. At the very least, it proves the cultural inclusivity of our harbor. As long as it doesn’t spark any food poisoning disputes, there is no harm in letting her write.”

Ningguang paused, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly in thought before she made her decision. “You handled this well. Since she has chosen to integrate into our society in this manner, we shall go with the flow. As long as she doesn’t expose her true identity or trigger a diplomatic incident, let her continue being our resident ‘Stay-at-Home Cook’.”

Down in the bustling commercial district, the latest release, History of Jars, sat proudly on the premier display shelf at Wanwen Bookhouse. Its gimmicky subtitle—Liyue Harbor Was Built From Pickle Jars—had successfully ensnared the curiosity of countless passersby.

The midday sun hung high, yet a small crowd of readers remained stubbornly rooted by the shelves, flipping through the crisp pages and debating in hushed, animated tones.

“Tsk, tsk. This Mister Li Xin certainly dares to dream,” a middle-aged scholar muttered, shaking his head. Despite his disapproving tone, his eyes were glued to the text. “Resisting a god with pickle jars… completely unheard of.”

His younger companion was far more invested. “I don’t think it’s just empty talk! Look at the second chapter—it says the genius architect was inspired by the curvature of the jars to invent glazed tiles. Doesn’t that make perfect sense?”

An older merchant stroked his short beard, a hearty chuckle rumbling in his chest. “That’s nothing! Look at this passage here. It claims that when the Sea God refused to give up, he dispatched the ‘Acid Jellyfish God’ to melt the Jar Embankment. And what happened? Old Pickler had a stroke of genius. He led the villagers to pour out their leftover sour brine, pickling that divine jellyfish into a savory bar snack! Hahaha! It’s utterly ridiculous, but Archons, is it a satisfying read!”

A young woman standing nearby chimed in, her eyes softening. “I think the tradition of ‘Establishing the Foundation’ is the most moving part. The book describes how, before burying the jars, the people would place a pinch of ash from their own kitchen stoves inside, along with a peach wood talisman bearing their family names. They weren’t just building a wall; they were praying for the peaceful continuation of their homes. Compared to just stacking cold stones, there’s so much more warmth to it.”

“Haha, hearing you say that makes me want to go home and bury a jar in my own courtyard!” another man laughed. “But ultimately, this is just an unofficial legend. The real Liyue Harbor was forged in blood by Rex Lapis himself, piercing the sea with his stone lances. What could that possibly have to do with pickle jars?”

Their lively debate drifted out into the street, catching the attention of a certain tall gentleman strolling past the plaza. Dressed in his immaculate dark coat, the esteemed consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor paused. His posture was perfectly upright, his temperament as steady as the mountains.

Hearing a tall tale about pickle jars building Liyue Harbor, a faint trace of surprise flickered through Zhongli’s Cor Lapis-golden eyes. A moment later, that surprise melted into a knowing, quiet smile.

It is that author again. Li Xin.

In his millennia of memory, there had never been an early tribal leader named ‘Old Pickler’, nor did he recall his people ever turning the tide of a divine war with fermented vegetable containers. Yet, hearing the mortals recount the tale, he found the narrative—weaving together mortal ingenuity, collective wisdom, and historical progression—to be uniquely charming.

Zhongli adjusted his cuffs and stepped into Wanwen Bookhouse. His gaze immediately landed on the bestseller display and the striking cover of History of Jars.

He picked up a copy, his leather-gloved thumb tracing the slightly rustic line drawing of Liyue Harbor on the cover. He offered a polite nod to the approaching shop assistant. “If you would be so kind. I shall take this one.”

After paying the required Mora—expertly charging the invoice to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s account—Zhongli stepped back out into the sunlight. He held the book gently, his thumb resting over the character for ‘Jar’, his gaze drifting toward the distant horizon.

This Li Xin… he mused silently.

Finding a quiet table at a nearby teahouse, Zhongli poured himself a cup of clear, fragrant tea. The steam curled into the air as he slowly turned the pages. As he explored deeper into the story, an occasional smile graced his lips, and he found himself nodding in silent approval.

The quick wit and unyielding unity of those fictional fishing village ancestors—using every mundane tool at their disposal to survive in desperate straits—perfectly captured the true, enduring character of Liyue’s early people. Assigning deep meaning to everyday objects to unite a community and pass down a shared spirit was a very real phenomenon in Liyue’s cultural history.

Old Pickler resisting the wrath of a god with pickle jars was a whimsical absurdity, yet it possessed an internal logic. It wasn’t purely baseless fantasy. The way the author described the jar’s curved body dispersing kinetic impact, the natural calcification of the gaps between the clay vessels, and the subsequent architectural leap to cylindrical glazed tiles—it all aligned flawlessly with actual engineering principles and material science.

Throughout its entirety, the book did not rely on divine intervention. It spoke only of human resilience. When the gods encroached, no Adeptus descended from the clouds to save them. Rex Lapis performed no miracles. The village relied entirely on the quick wit of an old man and the solidarity of ordinary mortals. With the most mundane kitchen utensils, they built a fortress to protect their home.

This underlying spirit—that human will could conquer the heavens—was woven masterfully between the lines. It traced the foundation of Liyue back to mortal wisdom rather than divine charity. It was a lofty, deep theme, one that connected deeply with the current era of Liyue stepping away from the age of gods.

However, the true history of the world was far more magnificent, and infinitely more cruel, than a cozy tale of pickle jars.

Zhongli slowly closed the book. He looked out over the balcony at the bustling, prosperous streets of Liyue Harbor. His golden eyes seemed to pierce through the veil of time, returning to the blood-soaked, chaotic era of the Archon War.

Rex Lapis descended, pushed back the tides, established Mt. Tianheng, and quelled the currents.

In those ancient days, gods stood as numerous as trees in a forest, and the slaughter was unceasing.

The initial defenses of the settlement that would become Liyue Harbor relied heavily on natural geography. Surrounded by mountains on three sides, the towering peaks to the west, north, and south formed an impenetrable terrestrial shield.

The true terror came from the east. From the vast, boundless ocean.

The ancestors of Liyue did not face the singular encroachment of a fictional ‘Sea God’. They faced the ravenous covetousness of a united front of multiple oceanic deities.

The coastline back then was a nightmare of violence. Raging elemental forces churned the black waters, and the sheer oppressive pressure of clashing divine auras caused the sky to bleed unnatural colors.

Those oceanic gods drove mountainous waves and colossal sea beasts toward the shore, relentlessly battering the newborn land in a desperate bid to drag it into the abyss.

He had ruled the mortal realm, and beneath the crushing weight of his stone lances, a multitude of demons and deities had been forced to bow their heads. Facing the combined invasion from the eastern sea, he had personally taken the vanguard, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with the Adepti under his command.

It had been an devastating, apocalyptic war.