Chapter 182: New Weapon Detected – Erhu
Once Bai Luo finally stopped playing, the old man couldn't help but approach—clearly intending to reclaim his precious instrument.
"Are you sure you can't give it to me?"
Bai Luo looked down at the erhu in his hands, sighing with genuine reluctance.
This erhu was clearly crafted by a master artisan. He had no idea where the old man had picked it up, but if he could keep it—even for a price—he'd pay without hesitation.
"I can't," the old man said solemnly, "Your skill is simply far too great. To let this instrument stay with you would be to insult your musical genius. Please... seek something more worthy."
"…How funny. My erhu teacher once said the same thing."
To Bai Luo, the old man's refusal was as good as a compliment. He looked fondly at the instrument once more, running his fingers over its polished body before letting out a long breath.
"In that case… just one more song. I'll give it back after that."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the refugees—who had been returning to their spots—froze in place.
Every eye in the camp turned toward him, wide with fear, bodies tense, ready to flee at a moment's notice.
"—Forget it! Don't play another note! I'll give it to you! Just— play somewhere else, where there are no people!"
The old man's face twisted in horror like he'd just encountered Arataki Itto himself. He shoved the erhu toward Bai Luo, turned heel, and pushed his cart as far away as he could—probably would've fled the camp if not for the Shogunate soldiers posted at the exits.
Bai Luo could only sigh and shake his head.
He carefully tucked the erhu away and returned to his tent alongside Sveta.
The only issue was… this erhu was huge. Not exactly easy to store.
Suddenly, a mechanical chime echoed in his mind:
[New Weapon Detected: Erhu]
[Would you like to integrate it into Lord Grim's Myriad Manifestation Umbrella?]
"???"
Weapon? These peasants don't understand, fine. But you, system, of all things—should know better!
This is a musical instrument! Not some kind of battle gear!
How the hell did you mistake it for a weapon?
No taste. Absolutely no taste.
No wonder the system kept handing him things like Fairy Glitter. It must be suffering from some form of classification disorder.
Still…
"…Integrate it."
Regardless of the system's obvious flaws, if it could store the erhu in his umbrella, that'd save a lot of trouble.
Carrying around a big, bulky erhu just wasn't stylish.
The crimson oil-paper umbrella slung at Bai Luo's hip shimmered with a soft light. It enveloped the erhu in his hands like silk wrapping a gift. Moments later, the instrument had fused seamlessly into the umbrella.
Bai Luo gave the umbrella a test swing, and with just a flicker of intent—it transformed back into the erhu in an instant.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
After flipping between forms a few times, he finally turned it back into the oil-paper umbrella and clipped it onto his belt.
If only everything could be stored in this umbrella. It'd be like carrying a portable dimensional space. So convenient.
Truly… deliciously convenient.
Thanks to Bai Luo's little erhu "incident," no one was in the mood for a bonfire party anymore. The refugees quietly dispersed, returning to their business. Even the old man, once so animated, now curled up in a corner and fell into a heavy sleep.
Only Bai Luo remained awake, his head resting on Sveta's lap, eyes still wide open as the night deepened.
Around midnight, he noticed a faint stir outside the tent.
He glanced toward Sveta, and as if reading his mind, she pressed her palms together in silent prayer.
Splash—
The cool water from the kettle nearby floated up gently, twisting and spiraling midair to form a shimmering, mirror-like surface.
On the surface of the water mirror, the outside of the camp came into view.
The source of the disturbance?
A ferry.
A massive one.
Its towering decks and multi-story structure rivaled even Beidou's Alcor. It was large enough to carry every single refugee here in one trip.
In Inazuma City, only nobles and prominent families would have the privilege to ride such a vessel.
And now the Shogunate had sent one… to ferry refugees?
Extravagant didn't even begin to describe it.
The ship had just docked, yet no soldiers had come to wake the camp. Instead, they moved swiftly, loading goods onto the ferry with wheelbarrows.
Burlap sacks… stuffed full of something…
"…Can you zoom in?" Bai Luo asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
Sveta nodded and gently brought her palms together once more.
The image on the water mirror gradually zoomed in. While it didn't quite reach the fabled 1080p, by Teyvat standards, this was definitely high-definition.
"…Not grain."
Bai Luo's eyes narrowed slightly.
He had seen food shipments back on Watatsumi Island—same burlap sacks, same wheelbarrows, same sandy beaches.
But the wheel tracks left on the ground told a different story this time.
These ruts were much deeper.
Much deeper than any grain delivery would leave.
It wasn't grain.
No—if anything, the load felt more like… sand? Or maybe rocks?
Yes. That was it.
That weight, that texture… exactly like hauling raw earth or stone.
But why?
Why would the Shogunate go through all the trouble of shipping something so mundane?
It wasn't like Tatarasuna was running out of dirt.
Unless…
Bai Luo's mind had already formed a theory. All this new evidence merely confirmed his growing suspicion.
Once the last sack was loaded, the soldiers began rousing the still-sleeping refugees.
"Wake up! Time to move!"
"The ship's here! Get going!"
One group at a time, they herded the refugees toward the dock. First the afflicted—those driven mad by Tatarigami—then the relatively stable ones. All of them, under the tight watch of Shogunate soldiers, were loaded onto the ship in orderly waves.
The madmen were placed on the lowest deck, allegedly so soldiers stationed there could keep a close eye on them and stop any outbreaks before they started.
The regular refugees went to the middle decks.
Then came Bai Luo and Sveta.
Their quarters? The top deck.
The best room on the entire ship.
Well... guess that bribe was worth it after all.
"…What's below?" Bai Luo asked, glancing toward the sealed lower levels of the ship. There were no doors, no stairs—only reinforced bulkheads and guarded hatches.
Even the other refugees had expected to be crammed down there with the crates. None of them could've predicted they'd be living better than the soldiers themselves.
"That's the cargo hold," the soldier replied curtly. "Not for passengers. Move along."
Bai Luo didn't press. He gave the soldier a thoughtful look, then took Sveta's hand and climbed to the upper deck.
Their room, surprisingly, was less like a bunk and more like a noble's suite.
Velvet cushions. Enchanted lanterns. Even a private bathing area.
They barely had time to settle in before the ship began pulling away from the dock—ahead of schedule.
Apparently, the urgency to leave had overtaken even protocol.
Back on the shore, a Shogunate officer stood silently as the glowing ferry drifted off into the night. The soft hum of enchanted propellers faded into the crashing of waves.
He didn't speak.
Didn't wave.
He just turned his back to the ship… and looked up.
There, atop a tall man-made platform, several elite guards stood at attention.
Unlike the average garrison, these soldiers bore Vision gems.
Rare. And more importantly, authorized.
In the current regime, very few retained their Visions without having them seized by the Vision Hunt Decree. To carry one openly meant direct approval from the Raiden Shogun herself.
They weren't guarding people.
They were guarding something else—a large object hidden beneath a tarp embroidered with the Electro triple tomoe sigil.
Anything shielded beneath that kind of sacred oilcloth…
Couldn't be anything ordinary.
"If there were another way," the officer murmured to himself, "who would choose to aim something like that… at their own people?"
He looked down at the letter in his hand, the Kujou Clan seal printed clearly on the envelope.
The wind tugged at the paper, but he held it firmly.
The night was quiet.
Utterly still—save for the rhythmic waves brushing against the empty beach.
But such stillness… wouldn't last long.
. . . . .
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