Rosalyne, now wielding the Cryo Vision gifted by Luo Qing, had become a far more formidable force than she once was.
In the past, the icy power she controlled was merely a tool to suppress the cursed flames within her, a precarious balance of elements that allowed her to use only one at a time.
Now, empowered by the Vision, her mastery over Cryo had grown exponentially. She could wield both Cryo and Pyro simultaneously, a duality that transformed her into a true force of destruction.
It quickly became clear that even the combined strength of the allied desert tribes—every warrior and shadow beast they could muster—was no match for the former Fatui Harbinger.
One by one, Rosalyne buried her enemies in fire and ice with ease, maintaining precise control so as not to disturb Luo Qing, who remained seated at the edge of the square, sketching away.
From the moment the battle began, the tribes had no chance of victory.
When Rosalyne wiped out nearly a third of their forces, the remaining warriors began to waver. Fear and despair crept into their hearts, eclipsing any will to fight.
Finally, they understood.
So this is why Babale didn’t resist.
She hadn’t been cowardly—just sensible. The woman they’d foolishly provoked wasn’t someone they could afford to cross.
Why did we even try…?
As their resolve crumbled, the tribes began to consider retreat.
But Rosalyne saw through their intentions immediately. With a wave of her hand, a towering wall of flames erupted around the battlefield, cutting off any chance of escape.
“You have two choices,” she said, her cold voice carrying across the square. Hovering in midair, she looked down on the warriors like a queen addressing her subjects—or a predator taunting her prey.
“Kneel… or die.”
While she understood that Luo Qing needed these people alive, she also knew desert tribes only bowed to power. Without making an example, there was no way they’d submit willingly.
The leaders of the tribes exchanged hesitant glances.
To kneel would be humiliating, a blow to their pride as proud desert warriors.
But to refuse… would likely cost them their lives.
“Fools.”
Seeing their hesitation, Rosalyne let out a derisive snort. She raised her hand, conjuring another flaming whirlwind that sent more of their comrades screaming in agony.
“Stop! We surrender!”
A trembling voice rose above the chaos. A warrior threw down his weapon and dismissed his summoned beast.
Better to live and fight another day than die here for nothing.
Soon, the rest of the warriors followed suit, laying down their arms and kneeling in submission.
“Pathetic,” Rosalyne muttered, descending gracefully to the ground. Her disdainful expression softened as she approached Luo Qing, her every movement radiating deference.
“Master,” she said, her tone shifting to one of respect and gentleness. “The situation has been dealt with.”
The tribesmen stared in disbelief, their minds reeling.
What?! This fearsome witch… serves him?!
If Rosalyne’s power was already beyond their comprehension, then what kind of monster must Luo Qing be?
“Oh?” Luo Qing finally looked up from his sketch, his eyes shifting between Rosalyne and his drawing. He compared the proportions thoughtfully.
“Hmm… about the same size. Rosalyne, what do you think?”
He’d been using her as a reference for the figure in his design—a modern, streamlined battle suit he’d envisioned for a certain someone.
“Master, your depiction is very… accurate,” Rosalyne replied, though a faint sadness flickered in her heart.
She had fought so fiercely, yet Luo Qing’s only interest was in his sketch. Not even a word of praise for her efforts…
“Since you think so, Natalia, take this,” Luo Qing said, handing the design to Natalia. “Find someone to make it when we get back.”
“…”
“Yes, Master Luo Qing,” Natalia replied, her expression unreadable as she accepted the blueprint.
Having finished his work, Luo Qing stretched lazily and stood, surveying the rows of kneeling tribesmen with satisfaction. Turning to Rosalyne, he flashed her a smile.
“Well done, Rosalyne.”
Bringing Rosalyne over from the Tsaritsa had proven a worthwhile move. She was the perfect tool for situations like this.
After all, if his subordinates could handle things on their own, why should he dirty his hands?
“Thank you for the compliment, Master…” Rosalyne said with a bow, though her voice carried a tinge of melancholy.
“But you did kill a bit too many,” Luo Qing added, glancing at the battlefield littered with ice sculptures and charred corpses. “Try to hold back next time.”
All these wasted lives… That’s so much potential frustration value gone to waste.
“Yes, Master…” Rosalyne murmured, chastened.
Luo Qing noticed the faint cracks on her shoulder—remnants of the cursed flames’ strain on her body. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a small glowing pill and tossed it to her.
“Take this. Don’t let those injuries linger.”
“… Yes, Master.”
Rosalyne accepted the pill, her mood lifting slightly. She knew Luo Qing’s gesture was practical, but the thought that he might care for her well-being brought a small smile to her face.
—
Meanwhile, Luo Qing strolled through the square, weaving between the kneeling tribesmen.
They dared not look up at him, their heads bowed in silent fear, hoping to escape his attention.
When he reached Babale, he stopped.
Babale had surrendered early, ensuring the survival of most of her tribe. Even so, her head hung low, her body trembling.
“You disappoint me, Babale,” Luo Qing said flatly. “What’s the matter? Not a fan of ‘embracing new ideals’ and ‘becoming a model citizen’?”
“…”
[Babale’s Frustration +1]
“Master Luo Qing, I was wrong!” Babale pleaded, pressing her forehead to the ground. “Please, spare us! From now on, we’ll dedicate ourselves to your teachings. We’ll embrace new ideals and strive to become the best citizens we can be. I swear it!”
Her once-proud demeanor as the tribe’s matriarch had completely crumbled. All she wanted now was to avoid further punishment.
The other tribesmen listened, bewildered.
New ideals? Model citizens?
What kind of bizarre punishment is this?
“Pathetic,” Luo Qing muttered, reaching down to remove Babale’s blindfold.
Their eyes met briefly before Babale averted her gaze, unable to hide the fear in her expression.
“I won’t kill you,” Luo Qing said dismissively, standing back up.
“Thank you, Master…” Babale whispered, her voice trembling.
“Natalia, handle the newcomers like we did before,” Luo Qing ordered.
“Yes, Master Luo Qing.”
With that, Luo Qing waved a hand and turned to leave.
“I’m heading back to finish my sketch. You all can deal with the rest.”
Luo Qing’s goal had never been slaughter—it was frustration. Killing everyone would be wasteful when they could still serve a purpose.
As for the Eremites? They had only themselves to blame.
Their gods had long since fallen, leaving them no one to protect them.
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