Under the doting yet concerned gaze of his family, Victor Wang was carried into the car by his grandfather and forcibly pressed into the seat.
Once they got home, he immediately jumped out and rushed into his room, locking the door behind him.
"Victor, it's time to eat. Why'd you run back to your room?"
"He's having a chuunibyou episode. Just ignore him," Silvia Wang replied, imitating Gavin Wang's tone.
"Chuunibyou?" Victor Wang's father mused. "Hahaha, that brat's at that age now, huh."
Victor Wang's mother was completely confused. "If he's sick, we have to get him treated!"
"Don't worry about him. He'll come out when he gets hungry."
Still unconvinced, his mother knocked on the door. "Victor, time to eat!"
"The enemy is upon us—I don't have the focus for dinner right now. You all go ahead!"
"See? Definitely chuunibyou. Let's just eat and save some for him."
But lunch passed, then the whole afternoon, and Victor Wang never came out. By dinner time, the family had run out of patience. Despite all kinds of persuasion outside the door, nothing worked. His father gestured something, then quietly slipped outside.
Victor Wang had been watching the sky through the window the entire time. He was hungry, thirsty, and his arm ached terribly from standing so long. But the hilt of Isshin was drawing closer to his right hand, and a nascent form of the Erosion Blast had begun to emerge in his palm.
Isshin seemed to sense it too—its blade began to tilt upward, trying to cut its way out of his hand.
But with the combined momentum of Victor Wang's reach and Isshin's own thrust, the cursed sword couldn't react in time. Meanwhile, in the illusion, he had more than enough time to finish forming the Erosion Blast.
Just as he was feeling pleased with the success of his plan, a head suddenly popped up beneath the window.
"You little punk! Skipped lunch and dinner—are you trying to rebel?"
"Dad? I really don't have time to talk, someone's trying to kill me out there."
"Your mom was right—if you're sick, you need treatment!"
Victor Wang quickly tried to shut the window with his left hand, but his dad blocked it with a slap.
"Is asking you to eat a crime? Forget everything else—eating is non-negotiable!"
"If I eat this meal, I might actually die!"
"You—! Your mom's right outside that door listening! You just keep breaking her heart!"
"I'm not saying her cooking is bad… I really have something going on. Didn't you notice how weird the neighbors are? It's already 9PM, and not a single light is on anywhere except ours! Even on the road home from fishing, we didn't see a single car!"
Only now did his father seem to realize something was off. He turned to look at the neighboring apartments—indeed, everything was silent. Not a soul in sight.
"What the hell is going on?"
"…We've all been caught in an illusion. I'm fighting the mastermind."
Just as he felt the Erosion Blast in the sky begin to dissipate, Victor Wang sighed deeply. "Sorry. Don't mind me."
His father climbed down the ladder in a daze. Once inside, he told everyone, "The kid's fighting an enemy."
"Are you chuunibyou now?"
"Just listen to me…"
Victor Wang endured the hunger and exhaustion, standing by the window until midnight when the illusion refreshed. As soon as he reappeared in his room, he locked the door again, took position by the window, and resumed the same pose and mental focus.
After an entire day and a half, the Erosion Blast finally reached the hilt of Isshin. The Chief Instructor's hand was the first to be shredded, then the full explosion erupted, blasting Victor Wang's cleaved right hand and Isshin away in one violent burst.
The illusion shattered immediately. A sharp pain in his right hand brought Victor Wang back to his senses.
The instructor's body, no longer under control, didn't regain consciousness—just collapsed straight to the ground. It likely had nothing to do with mental collapse, and more to do with the illusion revolving entirely around Isshin, with no other conscious entities involved. Even in its own illusion, the environment had been empty.
This proved that Isshin's phantom wasn't as powerful as its true self. Defeating it didn't bring Victor Wang any joy.
He kept a safe distance, observing the cursed blade lying motionless on the ground. One question remained: how to destroy it? Given its resilience, breaking it seemed unrealistic. But without destroying it, the path forward wouldn't open.
"You piece of junk, tell me how to kill you. I'll bring your real body here to keep you company afterward."
"Who are you calling junk?"
"Heh. I'll figure it out myself."
Victor Wang poked around Isshin with the tip of Wentian Sword. After close inspection, he noticed that the vortex patterns in the sword guard matched the markings of a pocket watch. Was it a distorted clock? A representation of its control over time?
The guard didn't seem metallic but made of some unknown material. Determined, he thrust the sword tip into the center of the vortex.
The vortex reacted violently, spinning furiously to resist. It made a sound like a blender hitting a steel rod—clattering, sparking.
Seeing this, Victor Wang pressed even harder. Channeling his remaining elemental energy and physical strength into his left arm, the guard began to crack.
"It won't die this easily! Next time we meet, you will pay with your life!"
With those final words, the sword guard shattered into four pieces with a loud crack, and the door ahead finally opened.
Victor Wang slid down into a sitting position in a corner. His right hand was mangled from the wrist down, only sealed with elemental energy to stop the bleeding. His clothes and cloak were torn to shreds.
With his left hand, he awkwardly tore off a strip of cloth to bind the wound. Then he poured two healing potions onto it. From the intact skin, flesh began to regenerate and spread to cover the injury. The wound was too large, so it only healed halfway, but at least the pain subsided, and he wasn't at risk of bleeding out.
The stone hall fell silent, save for a labored breath.
Victor Wang was truly exhausted. Rationally speaking, the cost of this journey to the boundary between life and death had been too great. If he wanted to recover his right hand, he might have to die and ask Venti for help again.
The path ahead had opened, but doubt crept in. If these chambers were recreating entities that had once killed him, then the next might be the final one. But if there was another twist… he wouldn't survive in his current state.
"Huuh—"
He raised his left and ruined right hand, forming an incomplete triangle in front of his chest. Closing his eyes, he silently recited: Exit.
But the sensation of leaving a domain—loss of senses and consciousness—didn't come. He was still in the lonely stone hall.
"Is it because my right hand's gone?" He raised his right arm in various positions, but nothing happened. Panic started to rise. "This really has become some Hilichurl Hell!"
["Master! Are you okay?"]
"Do I look okay…? Ugh, whatever. I'm not afraid of dying. I just need to rest a bit."
After a long rest, he pressed on through the only exit. The next chamber was empty, which confused him but also brought relief.
The chamber after that was also empty—but it was five times larger than the previous ones. It looked like it once held something even bigger than the Pyro Regisvine… but whatever it was had vanished.
As he approached the next hall, he heard human voices—about a dozen adventurers.
Victor Wang was certain he'd never seen them before. Yet they shouted crude slurs about Hilichurls and charged him without hesitation.
"Hmph."
None of these adventurers bore a Vision, and the result was disastrous for them. The gap between mortals and Vision holders was as wide as that between Vision holders and the Seven Archons.
"Look closely. I'm human!"
"Hilichurl scum! Dressing like a human won't fool us!"
"You bastards killed my cousin yesterday—I'd recognize you even if you were ash!"
Yesterday… Victor Wang suddenly understood. This must be a memory of when this body was killed… But why did the face look exactly like his own?
Was it really me?
It didn't make sense… It didn't add up… Wait… I reincarnated from Earth… Or maybe… I came here five hundred years ago… and lost my memory?
But… even the memories I'd forgotten from childhood are crystal clear now. Memory loss? Impossible…
He clutched his head in agony as the subdued adventurers continued cursing and accusing him of crimes. The hall's only exit stood silently ahead, waiting for his decision.
"Little Wen, help me prove I didn't kill anyone yesterday!"
["Master! I can testify—you were in Liyue Harbor yesterday… Ignore them, this is definitely another strange illusion!"]
"Do you hear me?! I didn't kill anyone!" Victor Wang leaned down to speak to a fallen adventurer.
"Pah! Damn Hilichurl, kill me if you want! But don't insult us!"
"…Fine."
A flash of the sword—and a head rolled free. Then another. And another. Only then did the stone door slowly open.
Three-person teams. Five-person adventuring groups. Knights of Favonius. Couriers from Liyue. Treasure Hoarders. Fatui guards. Whopperflowers. Occasionally mobs of adventurers and their employers. Sometimes Vision holders…
Most were easy to handle—but Victor Wang was tired. He had cleared over twenty chambers, and there was no end in sight.
Only the heavens knew how many times this Hilichurl body had been killed over the centuries… And now he was being made to kill through them all again, one by one. Even at this pace, it might take months.
"Maybe next time I see adventurers, I'll keep a few alive to chat for a while…"
["Master…"]
Victor Wang curled up in the corner, deciding to rest. Just then, he heard a voice—Hu Tao's chant, like she was calling spirits. It was as refreshing as divine music.
His ears perked up, listening intently. The voice grew clearer:
"Within the Three Realms, across the Seven Universes;
Spirits may hide, chants may falter;
Bright is the Yang, shadows flee from light;
Yin and Yang in order, the spirit platform shines;
Three souls stable, seven spirits unshaken!"