Idris slid off the Akasha earset and regarded the Doctor.
Dottore's face—what little could be seen beneath the mask—went a mottled shade of green, then purple. He glared daggers at Idris. He had never imagined that the trap he'd so confidently woven would fail to last even a single second once it truly met resistance.
In that instant, he understood: he'd been played.
No wonder the Grand Sage hadn't flinched when the duel was proposed. The pit had already been dug—he'd simply invited the Doctor to jump.
A man who'd spent a lifetime out-scheming others had been out-schemed.
As it turns out, the surest way to break a villain… is with another villain.
Still, a Harbinger is a Harbinger. After a long twitch at the corner of his mouth, Dottore exhaled and said, "Grand Sage Idris, you win this round. It does make me curious, though—what method did you use to guard the Akasha? If you were willing to share that technology, our cooperation might become… more sincere."
"No need," Idris said pleasantly. "I'm quite satisfied with our current level of sincerity."
By "cooperation," they both meant the so-called god-making plan. Sumeru would supply power, facilities, and a vessel; the Fatui would offer technique—and their chosen candidate, the Balladeer.
With Idris in the chair, that plan would never truly succeed. But he didn't mind leveraging the project for Sumeru's benefit—and when the time came to assign blame, well… wasn't the Doctor a perfect lightning rod?
Dottore's eyes cooled at the clean refusal. Idris didn't soften. "And don't forget our wager. I'll be waiting to see what form your public apology takes."
A rough breath slid through the mask. Then Dottore stood. "A shame. I would have enjoyed… further exchanges."
Idris watched him rise with a flat, indifferent gaze—and, behind that calm, poised a thought to trigger Divine Shield at the first flicker of violence. Standing didn't always mean leaving; sometimes it meant lunging.
The Doctor's eyes flickered, stormy with humiliation. He had never eaten a loss this total, not once finding the upper hand. Would he snap?
In the shadows, the two hidden gods tensed again. Zhongli disliked the idea, but he'd already decided—if the line was crossed, he would move. Nahida, eyes taut with worry, curled spectral fingers around her Gnosis in the Sanctuary. If the Doctor struck, she would shatter it to rouse the Heavenly Principles, whatever the cost.
But when Dottore met the Grand Sage's steady, untroubled stare, the heat in him ebbed. Something in those eyes said he wasn't afraid of a fit of violence.
He cooled by degrees and sighed. "Very well. I will honor the terms. From this day, the Fatui and Snezhnaya will refrain from meddling in Sumeru's internal affairs. I will also issue an apology—under my name."
"Good. Then—see yourself out."
"Hmph."
He shot the Grand Sage one last glacial look that promised the matter wasn't over—and left.
The door closed. A chime rang in Idris's mind.
[Congratulations. In your match with the Doctor, you seized a complete victory and the initiative, altering Sumeru's standing in the Fatui's eyes—and the original plot.]
[Follow-on events detected: plot further changed. Reward granted.]
[Unlocked Skill: Pill Refining — Let's Go!]
[Also obtained: 1,000 pill recipes.]
[Rest easy: Sumeru is rich in herbs. Any rare materials required for refining can be sourced or substituted locally.]
"Oh?"
Interest sparked bright. Of all things, pill refining? That was the stuff of cultivation legends.
And now it was his.
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