Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [321]

“You’ve really never explored beneath Wuwang Hill?” Jiang Bai stared at Zhongli, genuinely astonished.

Even the Lord of Geo knew nothing about it—then what exactly had he encountered down there?

“Liyue is vast and ancient. Even I do not know all its secrets,” Zhongli said calmly, pouring more tea into Jiang Bai’s cup. “Did you notice anything unusual about that palace? Or perhaps something distinct?”

“Unusual? Nothing particular, honestly. It was just an empty palace—completely bare…” As he spoke, Jiang Bai dipped his finger in the tea and sketched a hexagon on the table.

“Door frames, murals, patterns—almost everything in there had this shape. Does it look familiar?”

Zhongli studied it closely. “If I’m not mistaken, this must be an extremely ancient ruin.”

“How ancient, exactly? Older than you?” Jiang Bai pressed bluntly, immediately using Zhongli as his benchmark.

After all, the oldest being he’d encountered in Teyvat so far was this former Geo Archon, who’d lived over six thousand years.

“That’s difficult to say,” Zhongli replied with a faint smile.

Though he’d lived over six millennia, it was barely a blink of an eye in the vast history of Teyvat.

“Oh well,” Jiang Bai shrugged, not particularly concerned with the precise age of the ruins.

If he had to rank them, the ruins at the surface of Wuwang Hill were probably the most recent—but even those were at least two or three thousand years old.

Below that was the underground tomb, about three thousand years old.

And beneath even that was the sideways palace.

Considering how deeply buried it was, that place had to be five or six thousand years old—maybe even tens of thousands of years. That stone structures had survived this long without significant erosion was nothing short of miraculous.

“Anyway, that whole area felt extremely eerie. The Communication Device couldn’t transmit at all. Otherwise, I would’ve asked Xiangling to call you for help.” Jiang Bai leaned his head into his hand, gloomy at the memory.

Zhongli chuckled softly. “I’m afraid you’d have been disappointed. Even I wouldn’t have been able to rescue you directly from such unknown depths.”

“Seriously?” Jiang Bai looked skeptical.

The mighty Morax couldn’t even handle something like that?

Then again, people were still people, even gods. It made sense he couldn’t just phase through solid rock.

“My guess is that area was enveloped by some kind of special energy field.”

“An energy field?”

“It could’ve been ley-line disturbances, magnetic anomalies, or something entirely different. The possibilities are too many, and since I wasn’t there, I can’t say for certain.”

Jiang Bai felt that Zhongli might as well have said nothing at all.

Still, despite the vagueness, one thing was clear to Jiang Bai: “I got the feeling it was targeting me specifically.”

Zhongli tilted his head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

“That Abyss Herald deliberately lured me into a crack, and through that crack was a sky full of stars.”

“A starry sky?” Zhongli’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Yes, endless stars—as if I was walking among them. Once inside, the Abyss Herald vanished. Then I heard a voice speaking to me, saying some strange things. It was choppy, though, so I couldn’t really grasp most of it…”

Jiang Bai repeated the fragmented message as best he could.

Zhongli fell into a long silence. Jiang Bai’s heart tensed until Zhongli finally spoke again.

“Do you remember when I told you of your uniqueness?”

“I do. You said I was a Descender, someone who doesn’t need to follow Teyvat’s laws.”

Besides not needing to adhere to Teyvat’s laws, Descenders also naturally existed at a fundamentally different level.

For instance, as long as there was a medium, he could control every elemental power. That alone meant his potential was limitless.

But beyond that, he likely had other special traits he wasn’t yet aware of.

A thought suddenly flashed through Jiang Bai’s mind. “So, was that voice trying to recruit me? And if it was, why me instead of Aether?”

Wait, no—the voice had said something about telling him his “mission.”

But what mission could he possibly have?

Or perhaps there was a deeper meaning behind those words?

“You and Aether are not the same,” Zhongli shook his head lightly. “From the moment he met Paimon, his destiny became tied to the [Throne of Divinity]. But your fate has always remained in your own hands.”

“The Throne of Divinity?”

What did that mean?

Was it referring to becoming one of The Seven?

Or perhaps something even higher?

And why specifically mention the moment Aether met Paimon?

Just who—or what—was Paimon?

A flurry of questions crowded Jiang Bai’s mind, the sheer weight of those words nearly overwhelming him.

But Zhongli merely shook his head, clearly unwilling to continue further.

“For some reason, Teyvat suddenly feels incredibly alien to me.” Seeing Zhongli’s unwillingness to elaborate, Jiang Bai slumped back into his chair, staring blankly upward.

He’d been in Liyue for over a year now, and honestly, he’d lived a pleasant enough life.

Only recently had things become complicated—the dragon crisis in Mondstadt, Rex Lapis’s faked death, the Fatui stirring trouble—all adding layers of chaos.

But overall, his experience had still been peaceful.

Yet, after what he’d witnessed in that starry space, and after hearing Zhongli’s cryptic words, Jiang Bai felt that the whole world had suddenly turned sinister. It was as if everything he’d known until now had merely been a sugar-coated surface, concealing something far darker beneath.

Zhongli gently blew on his tea. Steam curled around his features, obscuring his expression slightly.

“How can you be familiar with what you’ve never known?”

Jiang Bai froze momentarily, then laughed bitterly.

“You’re right… All I’ve known about this world is limited to Liyue Harbor, which is practically nothing compared to the immensity of Teyvat itself. I’ve never truly understood this world at all…”

This world had far too many secrets—and his identity guaranteed he’d be swept into them sooner or later.

“Of course, you could also simply choose to stay quietly in Liyue Harbor and live an ordinary life.”

Jiang Bai shook his head decisively. “If I chose that path, by the time danger came knocking, I’d probably die without even knowing why.”

The Gnoses of both the Archons of Anemo and Geo had already been seized. Likely, the same fate awaited the rest. The Tsaritsa clearly had ambitious plans—collecting all Seven Gnoses definitely wasn’t a mere whim. And besides the Fatui, there was the enigmatic Abyss Order, whose threat now seemed greater than ever.

Especially after his recent encounter, his wariness of the Abyss Order had deepened sharply.

If he chose inaction, he’d end up like those ordinary people shivering in fear during Osial’s attack, leaving his life entirely in others’ hands.

Zhongli smiled faintly. “Or perhaps you might wake up one day, blissfully ignorant, only to find the world already saved.”

“For some, ignorance might be happiness,” Jiang Bai replied quietly. “But I’m not one of them. I’d rather understand exactly what needs saving—and who saved me.”

—

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!