Since no special treatment was needed—only shaping—by the time Victor Wang and Shenhe returned from lunch and had watched for about three more hours, Master Han Zhang, hammer flying in the heat of work, was already finishing up.
The scabbard, gleaming faintly with immortal radiance, was simply dipped into cold water. The water did not boil, for the scabbard itself was not truly hot. The golden vapors, too, were not heat but the melted essence of elixirs; the moment they touched the water, they dissolved and vanished.
Han Zhang had discovered this long ago during hammering. Boldly wrapping it in cloth, he wiped it dry with his hands. What emerged was a scabbard of anemo-green hue, its surface forever tinged with a faint, unremovable dark-golden sheen, engraved with sun, moon, stars, mountains, rivers, trees, and grass. A majestic creation had been born.
Still flushed with excitement, Han Zhang grabbed the carving knife he had used earlier, aimed at the edge of the scabbard, and struck with his hammer. The tool nearly slipped from his grasp, his hand stung with pain—but no new mark appeared upon the scabbard.
His heart thumped violently. He looked once more at Kun Jun, who had been watching in fascination, and at Victor Wang and Shenhe. He set the scabbard on the anvil, braced with his legs, drove power through thighs, waist, and arms, and brought the hammer down with all his might.
The hollow dragon tooth scabbard did not budge.
"It's done! It's done… a pity though—if this had been forged into a blade, its hardness would have ranked among the very best."
["Hmph! Out in the wilds I keep watch for my master. In the mornings I wake him. When he's bored, I keep him company. In battle I lend a hand, and when his mind falters, I record his steps so he doesn't get lost. What good is hardness alone? I've never once broken! Nowadays, a sword on the road must not only be strong, it must be intelligent!"]
Han Zhang chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "Let's leave that aside. Come—try if it fits your sword."
Taking the new scabbard, Victor Wang drew and sheathed Wentian several times. Apart from being heavier than the old leather one, it felt smooth and natural. The old scabbard, his longtime companion, was discarded without ceremony.
"Ah, to think my first time handling such precious material ended in making a mere scabbard… Brother, may I give this scabbard a name?"
"Scabbards need names too?"
Victor Wang hesitated. He recalled the Han family's notorious naming sense: Blackcliff Longsword, Blackcliff Warbow, Blackcliff Slasher, Blackcliff Pole—basically [Material + Weapon Type]. If Han Zhang named it 'Dragon Tooth Scabbard,' would that even count as naming, or just describing the material?
Naming was an art.
"In our craft, naming one's forged weapon is tradition. They say weapons without names invite misfortune. I don't believe it myself, and though this isn't even a weapon, still—it's a dragon tooth. If nothing else, it deserves a title."
"…Fine. But let's be clear—if I don't like it, I won't acknowledge it."
"Then… how about 'Dragon Tooth Sword Armor'? The name rings loud and proud!"
As expected, it began with 'Dragon Tooth.' Still, Victor Wang asked, "And what is Sword Armor supposed to mean?"
"This dragon tooth scabbard is harder than most blades themselves. Like armor for a sword—thus, Sword-Armor."
"Surprisingly apt… both fitting and pleasant to hear."
"Then it's settled! Also, several elixirs remain—let's return them to this white-haired adeptus."
The white-haired adeptus gazed at the golden elixirs—useless in her own hands, plentiful and neglected by her master. She shook her head. "Since they are of use to you, take the rest as payment. Is that acceptable, Victor?"
"…It's your choice."
Victor Wang refused to decide for her. But Kun Jun objected: "According to my family's records, these elixirs cannot alone forge weapons, but they can elevate a top three-star weapon into a four-star one. They are far too precious!"
Hearing this, Han Zhang, though reluctant, also declared he could not accept them.
"In that case," Shenhe said, "I'll keep a few for myself. Three for Master Han, one for this friend who helped. The rest I'll take back."
"This…"
"Since Shenhe made the choice knowing their value, you should accept."
"Then we thank the adeptus! Even if not as rare as dragon tooth, four-star weapons are beyond ordinary tools—seldom seen indeed."
Leaving the forge, Shenhe walked at Victor Wang's side, and suddenly she smiled.
He was momentarily stunned. "What's made you so happy?"
"I paid for the scabbard's forging, and this time you didn't refuse. Does that mean you see me as closer than your own brothers?"
Silly girl… Victor Wang smiled back. "This time, it's true I owe you thanks for the elixirs. I…"
He thought to add that he could repay her equally, but knew such words would sadden Shenhe. He kept silent. Another matter, though, had to be said.
"Shenhe, in two days I may have to leave Liyue Harbor."
"So soon?" Her steps halted, her smile vanished.
"Yes. You must adapt quickly, grow independent. But even after I'm gone, if you're uncertain, you can still ask Ganyu. She knows more than I, and is more reliable… aside from her overworking."
Cursed 'teleport anchor sickness'—without that flaw, he could have roamed all of Teyvat in a single day. At least with the Sword Armor for flight, the trip from Harbor to Wangshu Inn would be far shorter. He could still visit now and then.
"Let's go eat noodles," Shenhe murmured. Though her heart surged with emotion, these were the only words she could manage.
"…Alright."
The next day.
By day he again guided Shenhe through more trades, lowering his presence and letting her handle matters alone.
That night, he received a coded reply to his inquiry about whether the Young Master had plans to enter the Chasm. As arranged, he met Ye Caizhen at the southern dock.
This time, she did not arrive by boat, but stood quietly on shore.
"Regarding about the Young Master, some days ago he notified the Liyue Qixing that he was entering the Chasm. They neither aided nor hindered him. Two days later he emerged, apparently in good spirits. Afterward, he publicly displayed a letter from an 'Unnamed Guest,' claiming he would richly reward anyone who could identify or provide clues about the writer."
"…Thank you."
"Don't look at me that way—I'm fine. I'm used to being strong. You're the only Khaenri'ahn I know, so matters concerning my father could only be entrusted to you. I should thank you—you've helped me greatly."
"…We've cooperated twice, and both times I gained useful intelligence. No need for more thanks."
Judging from the Childe's actions, he had likely rescued the Ninth Company. At the very least, he had given them warning to withdraw in time.
Thus, matters in Liyue Harbor were nearly settled.
Another night passed. The following noon, after lunch with Shenhe, Victor Wang departed from the Harbor.
["Wow! Master, it's so fast!"]
Little Wen's exclamation trailed behind as a figure shot across the sky.
Forged into a scabbard, the dragon tooth still retained its affinity for anemo. A fifty percent boost halved the stamina cost of flight through the Sword-Armor. Combined with doubled spirit from purging geo residue, his speed now rivaled that of his sprint technique.
And since this method did not tax the body directly, only the mind, it could go faster still—if not for the risk of collapse from overdrawn spirit.
In just three hours, before dusk, Victor Wang returned to Wangshu Inn.
After more than a month, nothing had changed. The proprietress still smiled the same, Xiao remained unseen, winter reeds still bloomed, Jiang Xue still fished…
"You're back. Have you practiced your sword diligently?"
"…Not diligently. Too many matters."
"Heh. Yet you seem improved. Oftentimes, life teaches more than bitter training."
Fights on the brink of death with the phantom of a cursed sword, battles with the Stonehide Lawachurl, the moment he severed his murderous persona—all flashed through his mind. Each chance to temper his sword, raise his strength, and then return to Mondstadt in search of the lost Kingdom of a Thousand Winds.
When he stayed silent, Jiang Xue continued: "You've reached the bottleneck of Form of the Sword. To break through, keep cutting reeds."
And so, he did—for seven days.
By then, his swordsmanship was fully consolidated. Looking back, he understood from a higher vantage.
Before training, he knew nothing—his swings were wild. After training, he had learned forms—his blade moved by rote. With battles, the forms proved inadequate, and he began to break free of constraint.
Now, he could strike from any angle, in any manner, so long as it felled his foe. Tossing ten reeds into the air, he could cut all their tassels in a single motion.
But of 'Intent,' he still made no progress.
Perhaps sensing his timing, Jiang Xue, across the clear river below the Inn, asked: "What are you doing right now?"
"Cutting reeds."
"Where is your focus?"
"On the sword."
"The next time I ask mid-swing, if your focus is still wholly upon the sword—then sword intent will reveal itself."
"…Isn't this the same as when you tricked me into fishing, claiming it was training?"
"Similar. But then, I only wanted you distracted, defenses lowered, to lure a water spirit. Now, you must be more focused. For intent is the hardest to stir."
"What, truly, is intent?"
"You were right yesterday. If a person is threefold—body, spirit, and intent—then yes, intent is a part.
The body bears the spirit, the spirit bears intent. Yet not so simply. Aside from the head, where the three overlap, bearer and borne are not bound. If you lose a leg, is your spirit crippled? No. If your heart is pierced, is your intent destroyed? Still no.
Spirit can compress, can move. So too intent, for it dwells within spirit. Controlling it is harder still. When you cannot sense it, only crude methods remain."
"Such as cutting reeds?"
"Your every motion is guided by intent. The desire to cut reeds is itself an intent. The stronger, the easier to draw it forth. But the key is to wield it with freedom—neither forced nor absent."