Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [143]

The ancient tree was enormous, its entire form a shimmering silver-white. Its thick trunk would take at least three people with arms outstretched to encircle it.

Though it was called an “ancient tree,” in truth, it was a root that had emerged from the subterranean ley lines. That was why it bore no leaves or foliage.

Behind the petrified tree stood a massive stone wall, etched with golden strokes that formed a series of patterns.

These markings were the same as those found on the entrance to the domain, only here they were much clearer—more detailed, more complete.

On that mural, Jiang Bai saw the same trefoil emblem engraved on Mora coins.

He had once suspected that the pattern held some special significance, but no matter how he guessed, no explanation ever quite fit.

Now it seemed that this symbol was more broadly used—likely emblematic, rather than functional.

A symbol of Teyvat, perhaps, or something else entirely.

“Let’s begin. Just place your hand on it,” Albedo said.

All four of them reached out in unison, pressing their palms against the silver-white tree.

The tree felt icy cold beneath their touch—not at all like the rough texture of ordinary bark. Instead, it was smooth, almost metallic, like polished steel.

Jiang Bai closed his eyes. Fragmented images began to surface in his mind.

…

It was the distant past.

Back then, this snow-covered mountain was not yet called Dragonspine. It had no name—just a lush, green range of hills.

It was the silver-white tree that had granted its blessing.

Before the Anemo Archon had appeared, before Mondstadt had emerged from its blanket of snow and ice, this vast western mountain range was the only sanctuary.

One day, a group of people arrived.

They settled here. They made this place their home.

From the heavens descended a divine emissary—teaching them knowledge, guiding them toward a better life.

Under the guidance of this emissary, the people built places of worship at the mountain’s summit, alongside grand and wondrous structures.

They prayed to the skies, listening for the voices that came from above.

The priests, led by the emissary, came to know the silver-white tree hidden within the mountain. They came to understand its purpose.

A kingdom gradually took shape. Those who could hear the gods became its monarchs. They named this land Sal Vindagnir.

Blessed by both the emissary and the ley lines, the kingdom flourished at astonishing speed—and reached its zenith with the birth of a princess.

She was born beneath the white tree. Her name is lost to time, but in the hearts of the people, she was radiant as moonlight.

Time passed, like the pages of a book turning to a new chapter.

Then came the calamity.

The princess dreamed of a pitch-black dragon, so vast its wings blotted out the sun.

That same month, a foreign warrior arrived in the kingdom. The two fell in love at first sight.

But not long after, a nail from the heavens plunged down—splintering into three pieces and shattering the white tree that had long protected this land.

In a single night, the ancient kingdom was swallowed by ice and snow. Countless people perished in the sudden cold.

The voice of the heavens fell silent. The people were lost, bewildered—unable to understand what they had done to provoke such wrath.

They had followed the divine teachings. They had obeyed the emissary without once overstepping.

So why had the heavens unleashed such cruel punishment?

Burdened by confusion, the king attempted to ascend to the mountaintop in search of an answer. But he never heard the voice of the gods again—nor did he return.

The princess led the remaining people into a cave below the mountain, seeking shelter and warmth.

She plucked the most intact branch from the white tree, and as she painted murals on the walls, she searched desperately for a way to keep the branch alive.

But no matter how she grafted it, the life within could not take root.

With no way forward, she pinned her final hope on the lover from afar.

She ordered a greatsword to be forged from Starsilver—hoping he might use it to cleave through the storm and find salvation for their homeland.

At parting, the princess said:

“I believe the cheerful, chattering birds will follow in your footsteps, back to the verdant gardens of our summer palace.”

“Those lives driven away by the frost, the poor children who lost their home—they will return with you to the nests they once dreamed of.”

“But should fear and despair in your heart grow too heavy to bear, should they keep you from ever returning…”

“Then live on. Do not perish with us. Do not vanish with us into this cold and forgotten silence.”

But in the end, the princess never saw her beloved’s triumphant return.

In the bitter cold, longing, and sorrow, her life quietly came to an end.

And with her, the glory of the ancient kingdom faded away.

The chronicler erected a series of stone tablets in the mountains, recording all that had happened. In the end, he stood before the transplanted white branch—watching over it in silence until his own life, too, reached its end.

…

The vision faded. The four of them withdrew from the silver-white tree.

After witnessing the brief, tragic history of that lost kingdom, all of them felt a heavy weight in their hearts, like a great stone pressing down.

It was a different feeling from reading Cartis’s journal. What they had just seen from the tree was more vivid—more complete—and far more painful.

Even Klee, who didn’t quite understand the full picture, was overwhelmed. Her head drooped, eyes fixed on the ground, unable to recover for a long time.

A long silence settled over them.

At last, it was Albedo who sighed and lifted Klee into his arms.

“Big Brother Albedo… I feel awful… I want to cry…” Klee buried her face in his shoulder, her eyes red with tears.

“Sigh… I shouldn’t have let you see this,” Albedo murmured.

For someone Klee’s age, it was still far too early to be facing things like this.

He gently rubbed her back. “It’s okay. If you want to cry, then cry.”

“Waaah…”

Her quiet sobs quickly gave way to wailing cries, loud and unrestrained.

“Let’s get out of here.”

…

Once they left the domain, Jiang Bai let out a long breath. The suffocating pressure eased considerably.

But Hu Tao still looked listless, silent and withdrawn.

Jiang Bai pulled out a Sweet Flower and held it out to her. “Want something sweet, Director? Might help lift your mood a little.”

Hu Tao took it and stuffed the whole blossom into her mouth.

The sugary taste spread across her tongue, softening her gloom just a bit.

No wonder Cartis was so fixated on this. After seeing the history of that kingdom, she could barely let it go…

Klee wiped away her tears, hopped out of Albedo’s arms, and glared furiously at the shattered remnants of the Skyfrost Nail.

“Klee’s gonna blow up that nasty big nail again!”

Her eyes were still red, cheeks puffed in anger, and her whole face radiated righteous fury.

Albedo knew better than to deny her an outlet at a time like this.

He coaxed her gently, “Yes, yes—blow it up! That big bad nail!”

Jiang Bai had no intention of joining in Klee’s explosive revenge. Right now, all he wanted was a fire.

“Director, let’s go warm up by the campfire.”

“Mhm.”

Hu Tao nodded listlessly and followed him back toward the camp.

Even though they’d been away for a while, the firepit still burned—its flames never having gone out.

—

This is a fan translation of 胡桃拿我冲业绩 by 余溯. 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!