Zhongli gave Gu Sanqiu a long, measured look, suppressing the urge to reveal his true identity and administer a much-deserved lecture on the spot.
The Gu clan—truly the ultimate remedy for low blood pressure.
You little rascal, don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours!
“Don’t touch it? Does that mean there’s a specific reason behind this?”
Gu Sanqiu perked up, knowing that if Zhongli gave such a definitive answer, he must have a concrete reason.
“If my assumptions are correct, Sumeru’s so-called methods aren’t fundamentally different from Snezhnaya’s Delusion technology.”
Zhongli set down his cup. “In terms of core principles and usage, both fall under what can be considered forbidden arts.”
He continued, “A friend once gifted me a book titled Mondstadt Affairs, which mentioned Delusions. They operate by extracting life force to grant greater power.”
“As for the evil god statues in this case, they siphon ordinary people’s spiritual energy, using blood and similar mediums as conduits to channel fragments of an evil god’s authority.”
Zhongli took a deliberate pause before adding, “While Sumeru’s approach might seem safer than Delusions, as it doesn’t directly deplete one’s life force, in truth, it’s no less dangerous.”
Gu Sanqiu nodded thoughtfully. “So, it’s the choice of medium?”
“Exactly. Using spiritual energy and blood as conduits is, from a rational perspective, even riskier.”
Zhongli nodded. “Absorbing large amounts of spiritual energy with mixed properties requires the user to process it personally. Unless they possess a protective artifact or an extraordinary constitution, mental collapse is inevitable—it’s just a matter of time.”
“Life force can be replenished through various means. But once someone’s spiritual energy is compromised, recovery becomes extremely difficult.”
Gu Sanqiu rubbed his chin. “I see.”
Well, there goes my plan for a “suicidal evil god squad.” Even he couldn’t equip every Millelith soldier with a spirit-protecting artifact.
If the equipment were something simpler, like high-explosive devices disguised as mundane weapons, the production cost could be managed, and they could be mass-produced.
But spiritual-defense artifacts? That would be like finding a rare loot drop from a hidden dungeon boss with perfect attribute bonuses—possible, but impractical and not worth the effort.
Zhongli’s explanation made sense. Physical injuries were often treatable, but spiritual or soul-related damage? Even gods might find such cases hopeless.
Gu Sanqiu shuddered as he recalled a certain golden-haired traveler. No matter how tempted he might be to pursue such methods, he’d never risk Millelith lives on reckless experiments.
“Wait.”
Something clicked in Gu Sanqiu’s mind. “Zhongli, if that’s the case, then Delusions, Sumeru’s techniques, and Karmic Spiritforms—they all involve the same principle of ‘overthrowing the natural order,’ don’t they?”
“Why is it that Karmic Spiritforms only consume large amounts of energy, rather than demanding the same steep price as the other two?”
Zhongli shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure. But there’s a connection I’ve found in ancient texts—one that ties it to the actions of Gu Sheng during the Lantern Rite Festival.”
Lantern Rite?
Gu Sanqiu frowned. Is he talking about the power of wishes?
Wishes, or willpower, could be broadly understood as a form of faith energy.
Teyvat wasn’t a purely materialistic world; traces of willpower were woven into its fabric, largely influenced by ley lines.
Now, the question was the relationship between Karmic Spiritforms and this power of will. If Zhongli’s implication was correct, did this mean that something akin to faith energy bore the cost, allowing the Millelith—and the former Thousand Rock Army—to wield such power?
Hold on…
When someone’s desire is strong enough, the gods cast their gaze upon them. This is how Visions are bestowed.
Gu Sanqiu shivered. Did I just stumble onto a dangerous secret?
He vividly recalled things Zhongli had once told him, as well as references he’d found in old texts.
The creation of Karmic Spiritforms had supposedly resulted from a serendipitous discovery, followed by systematic research to refine and spread it among some Thousand Rock Army soldiers.
But was it really the product of research?
Or was it entirely based on willpower, with faith energy serving as a catalyst to amplify the concept of “desire,” channeling divine attention to grant immense power?
If so, whose divine authority were these Spiritforms drawing from?
I’m screwed.
Why did I have to come to the Funeral Parlor for a midnight snack? Why did I have to open my big mouth and ask that question?
Gu Sanqiu’s face remained expressionless, but inside, his thoughts were spiraling. He remembered Azhdaha’s words about Zhongli.
“Cunning old fox.”
Could I have actually guessed correctly?
Zhongli couldn’t have anticipated that a single clue would cause Gu Sanqiu’s thoughts to spiral this far.
If Karmic Spiritforms were truly rooted in faith energy, and if other details had been deliberately omitted from historical records to obscure the truth, what else was being kept hidden?
This is terrifying.
The little man in Gu Sanqiu’s mind was already banging his head against the wall.
If only my family’s vaults had some god-tier artifacts stashed away, I’d just come clean and ask about this outright.
But no—his so-called “golden finger” was practically useless, providing nothing more than snacks and nutrient-rich ingredients.
His thin arms and legs were ill-equipped to play in the big leagues, let alone in games involving national governance or divine rules.
This is bad.
The last time he’d crossed swords with an Archon—Raiden Shogun, no less—it had nearly given Zhongli a heart attack.
And now? This was tied to Liyue itself, likely involving a hidden thread that even his ancestors had deemed unfit for future generations to know.
Am I about to get sealed underground for five hundred years?
Five hundred years?
By then, that golden-haired traveler would’ve completed countless laps around Teyvat using teleport waypoints.
When others miss an opportunity, it’s said that “the boat has sailed.” If he missed one, the elements of the boat would’ve reincarnated a thousand times over.
Nope. Absolutely not. I cannot let Zhongli catch even a hint of my suspicions.
If this theory is accurate, it’s way too big to leave unaddressed.
—
This is a fan translation of 原神之璃月奉香人 by 淡白蛋清. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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