A strong gust swept through, bowing large swathes of reed flowers and chilling the heart. Only Victor Wang remained seated there, overwhelmed by a bitter, indescribable feeling.
His back hunched, he clutched his head in his hands.
"If I had paid more attention while passing through here… could I have..."
["Master! But he was going to die from illness anyway—it was only a different way of dying."]
"A different way of dying? No, no, Little Wen, you don't understand. Everything changed for that father and daughter…"
["But Master… you didn't have the ability to see through the evil spirit's disguise. Whether you were here or not wouldn't have made a difference."]
"…You're right. I'm just too useless."
["Eh? That's not what I meant!"]
Now, calm down. Discard those pointless emotions. People who only regret and complain will never accomplish anything.
Victor Wang pulled himself together and sprinted northward, not stopping until he reached the Geo Archon Statue in Dihua Marsh.
He extended a hand—physical body, spirit, and elemental energy unified—as he made contact with the statue.
With the initial shattering sound of unlocking, just as he had suspected, the statue granted him access to the overlook space of anchor points—more accurately, a teleportation space.
Inside this space, two anchor points were visible: one at Wangshu Inn and the other at the current statue. Their spatial orientation matched their real-world positions.
That meant… by touching the Wangshu Inn anchor within this space, he could teleport long distances, right?
No, the nausea from teleportation was too painful. If it was just an experiment, it'd be better to try at the Stone Gate anchor—then returning to Wangshu Inn wouldn't require repeated trips.
He set out once more, casting aside all his sorrow and worries.
Back on Earth, adulthood always meant rushing—like there was never enough time for anything. But there was one time he could truly relax: when he was on the road.
As long as you're already traveling, no one can ask more of you.
Stone Gate was now in sight. Though it was the dead of night, a few Millelith still manned the checkpoint. Since he was traveling alone and transporting no goods, he was easily let through.
Beneath a manned watchtower, just outside the guards' field of vision, Victor Wang expertly unlocked the Stone Gate anchor. Now, his teleportation space held three anchor points.
This time, he didn't hesitate—his spirit touched the Wangshu Inn anchor. A dizzying swirl followed, and just as expected, he returned to Wangshu Inn.
Then he collapsed against the railing, retching violently.
These past few hours had nearly surpassed his entire lifetime's worth of vomiting.
A restless night.
Still, Victor Wang rose early the next morning to train in the art of mental division.
As of today, he could split into seventy separate strands of consciousness. Ever since he caught the Hydro Mimic last time, the increasingly difficult process of dividing the mind felt as though its difficulty had been reset—seventy threads flowed as one, making it significantly easier.
He had a hunch: once he reached one hundred strands, his control over mental energy would ascend to an entirely new level.
Today was also the Rite of Descension in Liyue.
The ceremony would begin at 10 AM, with the Geo Archon being formally invited at 11. If all went as expected, by dinnertime, news of the Archon's death would reach Wangshu Inn.
"You're in rough shape today. Like all the reeds you cut in Dihua Marsh the other day came back to haunt you."
A mature reed could hold twenty to thirty plumes. Victor Wang's goal today was to sever them all before they hit the ground or floated away. But the mental and physical exhaustion clearly hampered his performance.
"But emotion is still a kind of intent, the most primitive form of it. While it's unorthodox to rely on emotion to form intent, if you can't calm yourself, then try it.
"Try expressing what's in your heart—through your sword."
["Master! Tell me what you want to say, and I'll say it for you!"]
"Little Wen, that's not quite what it means."
Victor Wang began to reflect on what he had witnessed the previous night.
I want to ask.
Ask the dead god of Dihua Marsh:
You couldn't defeat Morax, yet you refused to submit. Even in death, your obsession lingers, cursing this land for a thousand years.
If you had any awareness left in the afterlife—wouldn't you feel ashamed? A once-proud god reduced to tormenting mere mortals?
As his thoughts churned, the sword in his hand felt heavier, less fluid.
That made sense. Not all gods love mortals. Some, like the one who exploited Xiao's weakness—forcing him into acts of bloody cruelty, countless killings, crushing ideals underfoot—that was a true evil god.
Such vile, despicable, scheming beings… how could they possibly die with dignity?
Chains emerged from deep within, binding Victor Wang tightly, slowing his movements and stiffening his steps. He couldn't move freely.
Yet in the eyes of others, his swordplay grew only faster—Wentian Sword struck with leopard's speed and crocodile's bite, severing reed after reed, and shredding the falling plumes like a predator mauling its prey.
As if he were truly on the battlefield, facing a mortal enemy.
Under the noonday sun, Dihua Marsh exuded malice. Invisible hands reached from the land to grasp his ankles, trying to drag him into a pit of hatred.
Xiao, resting atop Wangshu Inn, snapped to attention. Before he could act, Victor Wang drove his sword into the ground.
And with a furious roar: "If you're going to die, then die cleanly!"
A ripple of sword intent distorted space, spreading outward like waves, severing the invisible hands and swaths of reeds like wheat. It didn't stop there—it passed under a nearby streetlamp, slicing it in two without a sound.
Jiangxue shook his head. His fishing line, rare to rise from the water, flicked outward and blocked the remaining sword aura.
"Fine, the lamp is one thing. But if you break the ancient archway that's stood since Dihua Marsh's reconstruction centuries ago, the Liyue Ministry of Civil Affairs will be on your back in a heartbeat."
Victor Wang felt no pain but also didn't know what had happened. The only part he had consciously performed was that final strike at the evil spirit underground. He looked blankly at Jiangxue.
"You're too attached. Let emotions rule you, and you'll keep falling deeper and deeper."
"What's wrong with that? Joy, anger, sorrow—all are part of being human. Or do you practice the Emotionless Sword?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Victor Wang realized something was off. That didn't sound like something he'd say.
"Did you know? Letting emotions guide your sword means you've touched the threshold of sword intent. It even has a special name: Heart Sword. I went through that phase myself.
"But Heart Sword doesn't last. It just amplifies emotion. In the end, either your resolve breaks, or you lose control and become a fanatic.
"True sword intent isn't emotionless—but you must be able to lift it up, let it go, and act freely. You can't be bound by any one emotion."
"I…" Victor Wang gradually calmed down.
"Didn't expect you to be a natural fit for the Heart Sword—and lured just right by Dihua Marsh's energy, too. That's why it worked so well. But today's not a good day to train. Go clear your mind.
"Oh, and that streetlamp—go be honest with the boss. She'll go easy on you."
"I'll go now."
What a miserable day.
…
"So, you say you cut down the streetlamp downstairs—but why did you cut it?"
"I was training… hit it by accident."
"I see… well, in that case, it can't be helped. Go speak with the boss. He's got some wood prepared for fixing the inn's stairs. You can repair the lamp and the stairs as your atonement."
"Understood, boss lady."
"It's boss, not boss lady."
…
"So, you say you cut down the streetlamp downstairs—but why did you cut it?"
"I was training… hit it by accident."
"I see… well, I did prepare some wood to fix the stairs. It's downstairs. Let's go take a look together… although I don't recall having any suitable wood for a streetlamp."
Huai'an led Victor Wang down the stairs. After checking the longest available plank, they headed toward the northern wooden archway of Wangshu Inn.
"As I thought. This lamp is four meters tall—none of that wood will work." Huai'an traced the sword scar across the stone wall. "You're really something, sir. The outer wall's been sliced clean through."
Victor Wang scratched his head awkwardly.
"I mean it—sincerely. A slash that cuts through such thick stone and extends to the lamp, with such a smooth finish? Just looking at it, you can feel the 'momentum to sever all.'"
Momentum, huh?
"Good thing the force ended here. If it had reached the archway, we'd be in real trouble."
Victor Wang glanced at Jiangxue across the river and felt even more embarrassed. He rubbed his nose and said, "Since there's no suitable wood, how about reinforcing it with some planks?"
"Patching it would make it look out of place. Verr Goldet wouldn't like it, and it'd leave a poor impression on passing guests…"
"There's still a solution," Huai'an pointed south. "Head south along this road to Guili Plains. At the first major fork, take the left path and walk a bit—you'll reach a grove of Sandbearer trees."
"Those trees grow straight, are weather-resistant, and perfect for outdoor lamps. The height and width should be just right. If you'd be so kind, sir, please fell one and bring it back."
What else could Victor Wang say? He could only nod in silence.
"Oh, and a few Hilichurls and slimes tend to linger there. But I'm sure that won't be a problem for you?"
"No problem."