When the Adepti and Yaksha arrived and saw the scene before them, they froze in place, stunned into silence.
No one could have imagined that the ridiculous rumor had become reality.
Guizhong and Marchosius had truly fallen at Guili Plains.
After the crushing grief came the greatest fury Morax had ever known.
His body trembled uncontrollably, his pupils dilating and contracting as his heartbeat thundered in his chest. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails pierced his palms, drawing blood. His teeth ground together with a sharp creak, his mind blank, his expression twisted into that of a raging beast.
"Who…"
"Who did this?"
He forced each word out through clenched teeth, his entire being radiating terrifying power.
Everyone around him froze. The people of Guili Plains stumbled backward in fear, terror written across their faces. Some shook so violently that their knees nearly gave out.
The aura of a god who had fought for a thousand years was far too heavy to endure. The only reason they could still stand was that Morax hadn't directed his rage toward them—just the remnants of his power were enough to make them tremble.
"I…"
"I saw it…"
After a long, suffocating silence, a pale-faced man stepped trembling from the crowd.
In such a moment, even taking a single step forward was an act of tremendous courage.
At his words, Morax and the others turned toward him. The man's neck shrank back instinctively, his entire body shaking as though he might collapse at any moment.
Seeing his fear, Morax turned away, refusing to look at him further. The Adepti and Yaksha followed his lead, all turning their backs to the man—trying not to intimidate him further.
It was the last trace of reason left to them amid their wrath.
They needed to know who the killer was. This terrified eyewitness was their only clue—they couldn't afford to scare him into silence.
After several moments, the man finally spoke again, stammering, his voice shaking.
"I... I saw it with my own eyes... That... that man... killed... Lord Marchosius..."
"He... he was wearing... a black coat... and... and he had... a strange mask on his face…"
"He... used his hand... to pierce... through Lord Marchosius…"
When he finished, silence fell once more.
A heavy, eerie stillness blanketed the air.
It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the world—no one dared to breathe. The entire village was so quiet that even the fall of a pin would have echoed.
Morax was stunned. The Adepti were stunned. The Yaksha stood frozen.
A black coat.
A strange mask.
An unseen intruder no one had sensed.
Piece by piece, the clues formed a familiar silhouette in their minds.
In the next instant, Morax vanished.
"You're lying!!!!"
"Did you see clearly?! Speak! Did you see clearly?!"
He seized the man by the collar, roaring furiously.
Cold sweat poured down the man's face. No mortal could endure the wrath of the God of War. Overwhelmed by Morax's divine fury, he collapsed unconscious.
Panic spread like wildfire. The people of Guili Plains screamed and fled in every direction, slamming their doors shut, barring their windows.
Within moments, the once-bustling village was silent—only Morax, the Adepti, and the Yaksha remained.
"How could Brother Elliot possibly do such a thing?!"
"What are your intentions?! How dare you try to sow discord between me and my brother?!"
"Say it!!!"
Morax shouted hoarsely, his voice breaking with grief.
The Adepti and Yaksha rushed to restrain him, pulling him back by force.
"It's not true… Brother would never do this…"
Freed from his anger, Morax slumped weakly to the ground. For the first time, the steadfast Emperor of Liyue appeared fragile before their eyes.
He sat there, cradling Guizhong's body in his arms, tears streaming down his face like rain.
The Adepti and Yaksha stood in silence—no one spoke.
"Marchosius…"
Bosacius looked at the fallen Marchosius, his own eyes gradually reddening.
"Marchosius, let me help you carry the dishes."
"You all go sit down, I'll take care of it."
"No need to be polite. I've got four hands! I can carry plenty in one trip!"
"Let me do it. It's one of the few things I can do for you."
"What are you saying? Cooking is an art too! How could we fight on empty stomachs? Don't sell yourself short. There are plenty of gods who can fight—but only one who can cook. You're one of a kind!"
"Heh… you're making me blush."
"Hahaha! I'm only telling the truth. Leave it to me, Marchosius."
"Alright then—just be careful, it's hot."
"No problem. I've got tough skin!"
The Guili Plains fell into silence once more as a gentle drizzle began to fall.
Raindrops landed softly on their bodies, wetting their faces—yet none of them moved. They stood motionless, like divine statues carved in sorrow.
And the Glaze Lily, once stained red with blood, was slowly washed clean by the rain, its original brilliance shining through once more.