Chapter 142. Feeding Guoba condensed resin!
Dusk settled over Liyue Harbor in a wash of amber light as Futsu Mitama and Kuki Shinobu stepped beneath the familiar wooden eaves of Wanmin Restaurant. The scent of stir-fried chilies and simmering broth drifted warmly through the air, sharp enough to stir a hungry stomach into protest.
They had intended to eat quickly, then travel overnight toward Mt. Aocang to visit Cloud Retainer and Shenhe. The mountain winds would be colder at night, but the path would be quieter. Before either of them could sit down—
"Lulu lu!~"
A small, round figure toddled toward them, swaying with unmistakable enthusiasm. Guoba's bright eyes fixed on Futsu Mitama as he chirped again, the sound oddly melodic. It carried the unmistakable tone of recognition.
"Eh?! Futsu Mitama! Shinobu?!"
Another familiar voice followed close behind. Xiangling hurried forward, spear slung casually over one shoulder, a travel pack secured to her back. Her attire left no doubt—she was about to head out.
"Long time no see," Kuki Shinobu greeted, though her gaze lingered on Xiangling's equipment. "Collecting ingredients again?"
The answer was obvious. As Liyue's most inventive young chef, Xiangling's culinary curiosity rarely rested. Still, the realization brought a faint disappointment. Shinobu had been looking forward to a hot meal prepared by her hands.
Futsu Mitama, meanwhile, offered a simple greeting—then promptly bent down and began vigorously petting Guoba.
He applied spiritual suppression almost instinctively, the divine aura of the God of the Hearth dimmed beneath his touch. Fluffy fur yielded beneath his palm. Warm. Soft. Comforting.
"Lulu lu~~~"
Guoba leaned into the attention, clearly pleased.
Compared to discussing ingredients, petting Guoba was a far more immediate joy.
Xiangling stepped closer, eyes wide. "Weren't you two in Mondstadt? Why are you back so soon? I was planning to go find you there!"
Her excitement brightened further. "I heard about the Dragon Crisis. I was thinking—since you're both there, maybe we could team up to hunt dragons!"
She spoke the words "hunt dragons" with the same tone most people reserved for "harvest mushrooms."
"I still haven't figured out how to best prepare Primo Geovishap meat," she continued eagerly. "So I wanted to compare it to real dragon meat. See the differences in texture and flavor profile!"
In Mondstadt, citizens trembled at the mention of dragons. In Xiangling's mind, however, this was simply—an unprecedented ingredient opportunity.
After all, even the mighty Primo Geovishap had fallen before the combined efforts of adeptus and Futsu Mitama. Powerful creatures were not terrors—they were culinary challenges waiting to be solved.
Futsu Mitama's hand froze mid-pat.
His mouth twitched slightly.
It was fortunate—extremely fortunate—that Xiangling had received news late. Had she known sooner, she would undoubtedly have marched into Mondstadt alongside them, spear in hand, backpack ready, eyes shining with gastronomic ambition.
A Dragon Crisis, in her mind, was not a calamity.
It was a limited-time seasonal special harvest.
If Xiangling had truly arrived in Mondstadt in time, then the so-called Dragon Crisis might have acquired an entirely different flavor.
Dvalin, Dragon of the East, one of the Four Winds, an existence second only to the Anemo Archon in Mondstadt's faith—would have found himself facing a chef whose eyes shone brighter than any Vision.
The problem, of course, was not intent but capability. Xiangling could fight; as an adeptus disciple, she possessed solid foundations. Yet her cultivation was not battle-oriented. Compared to Shenhe—whose path was forged explicitly for combat—or even Kuki Shinobu, Xiangling's strength leaned toward survival and versatility rather than suppression of a corrupted dragon.
Shinobu's expression tightened subtly as the implications settled in.
Xiangling was casually proposing the consumption of a being tied to an Archon's lineage. Even if Dvalin had erred under the Abyss Order's manipulation—had even drawn Futsu Mitama into the Abyss—his status remained unchanged.
If Mondstadt learned that Liyue's rising culinary star intended to carve portions from their Dragon of the East, outrage would not be theoretical.
"That…" Shinobu began carefully, "We returned because the Dragon Crisis has already been resolved, and—"
She did not finish.
Xiangling's eyes shifted to Futsu Mitama.
Both he and Shinobu instantly understood the unspoken question: Did you bring any back?
"That dragon's meat cannot be taken," Futsu Mitama said with a faint sigh. "His identity is—complicated. Taking even a portion would trigger consequences."
"In the worst case," Shinobu added evenly, "it could escalate into diplomatic hostility between three nations."
The logic was straightforward. Dvalin was Mondstadt's sacred wind. Xiangling was under adeptal protection—Liyue's divine echelon would not ignore harm to her. Futsu Mitama himself represented the will of the Raiden Shogun.
A culinary experiment could, in extreme interpretation, become an inter-national insult.
"That serious?!" Xiangling's excitement dimmed immediately.
For her, food existed to create happiness. If a dish sowed conflict, it lost all meaning.
"Lulu~"
Guoba toddled forward, free of Futsu Mitama's suppression, gently nudging Xiangling's leg.
She crouched and hugged him, spirit quickly restored. "Alright! Then I won't go to Mondstadt. Since you're back, I'll cook you something amazing!"
Her spear and pack were set aside in one smooth motion.
"What would you like?"
Shinobu answered immediately. "Boiled Fish."
In her assessment, Wanmin's boiled fish stood unmatched. Mondstadt's cuisine was refined in its own way, but for this single dish, no one surpassed Xiangling.
Futsu Mitama considered briefly before listing, without restraint: "Adeptus' Temptation. Golden Shrimp Balls. Almond Tofu. Universal Peace. Bamboo Shoot Soup."
Each was a signature of Liyue's culinary refinement.
Then, after a pause—"And Fried Tofu."
Xiangling blinked. "Inazuman style? Of course I can."
"I'm not eating it," he replied with a slight smile. "I'm using it as bait."
She tilted her head, puzzled but flattered, before dashing toward the kitchen with renewed enthusiasm. Guoba followed dutifully.
While the clatter of woks began in the back, Futsu Mitama and Shinobu opened the Chat Group with practiced synchrony.
[Futsu Mitama: "Most of the work is done. Guiyan Assembly's forging materials have been obtained, and a lot of intelligence has also been obtained from Tartaglia. Next is dinner time. I and Shinobu ordered many dishes. Is anyone interested in coming over!"]
[Aila: "Me!"]
[Futsu Mitama: "Aila, we'll come find you tonight."]
[Aila: "Okay!"]
[Kuki Shinobu: "I ordered Wanmin Restaurant's Boiled Fish. Futsu Mitama ordered Adeptus' Temptation, Golden Shrimp Balls, Almond Tofu, Universal Peace, Bamboo Shoot Soup, and Fried Tofu."]
[Maha Rukkhadevata: "It is a blessing to eat, but be mindful of digestion if you feast so heavily each time."]
[Raiden Makoto: "Wait. Fried Tofu~"]
[Raiden Makoto: "@Yae Miko, are you going? Judging by the time, you should be meeting him soon."]
[Yae Miko: "Hehehe~ As expected of the little one, he understands me well. I'll come later. I'm tired of staying at the Jade Chamber."]
[Venti: "Any Liyue-style snacks for drinks?"]
[Zhongli: "Bamboo Shoot Soup and Adeptus' Temptation are indeed worthy delicacies."]
[Zhongli: "I will come as well. I have something to test."]
[Azhdaha: "Test?"]
[Zhongli: "I have excess condensed resin. I wish to see if feeding it to Marchosius, God of the Hearth, yields any change."]
[Albedo: "Legends state Marchosius overextended his power. Condensed resin may assist in resisting erosion."]
[Futsu Mitama: "Yes. It's worth attempting."]
[Guizhong: "I hope he recovers."]
[Keqing: "Golden Shrimp Balls… Can I come?"]
[Futsu Mitama: "They were ordered for you."]
[Keqing: "Specifically…for me?"]
[Kuki Shinobu: "Last time you stared at them the entire meal."]
[Aila: "Confirmed."]
[Futsu Mitama: "With so many coming, should we add dishes? @Zhongli @Keqing @Yae Miko."]
[Yae Miko: "Just Fried Tofu. Ningguang's pastries have filled me."]
[Futsu Mitama: "Then I'll add Golden Crab and Spicy Fried Chicken."]
Then the tone shifted.
[Raiden Makoto: "Before eating, what did Tartaglia reveal?"]
[Futsu Mitama: "Scaramouche's target is me and Yae Miko. Dottore may intervene. The Fatui may assist the Tenryou Commission against the Resistance and target Kamisato Ayato."]
[Kamisato Ayaka: "Brother?"]
[Kuki Shinobu: "Among the Three Commissions: one is aligned, one crippled, one troublesome."]
[Yae Miko: "If someone schemes against Ayato, they must prepare to be out-schemed."]
Then—
[Yae Miko: "Little one, you know why Kunikuzushi targets us, yes?"]
[Futsu Mitama: "You more than me."]
[Yae Miko: "Because I hold it."]
The Electro Gnosis.
The group fell silent for a heartbeat.
Then the storm resumed.
[Guizhong: "Secretly slip it into him? Like Venti?"]
[Venti: "I object! He will become the next Anemo Archon!"]
[Raiden Makoto: "I agree!"]
[Azhdaha: "I object!"]
[Klee: "Brother Futsu Mitama as Archon sounds fun!"]
[Raiden Makoto: "Where are my Inazumans?!"]
[Azhdaha: "Where are my Liyueans?!"]
[Aila: "Am I Liyuean or Inazuman?"]
[Zhongli: "Born in Liyue."]
[Raiden Makoto: "Lives in Inazuma!"]
[Yae Miko: "Exactly."]
Chaos.
Pure chaos.
Futsu Mitama felt a pressure building at his temples.
He was, at present, only at the initial adeptus threshold. Not weak—but nowhere near the unfathomable strata occupied by true Archons.
To inherit a Gnosis required the conclusion of an Archon War.
Those who held them—save perhaps the Dendro and Hydro Archon in her particular circumstances—possessed depth beyond measurement.
He recalled Venti's transformation on the island suffused with the Power of Time: the crowning, the divine attire, the unleashed authority.
The oppressive aura alone had been suffocating.
Which raised an unavoidable question.
If that was Venti at full force—how, precisely, had La Signora found the courage to approach him with two Electro Cicin Mages and attempt to seize a Gnosis?
For now, Futsu Mitama could not be compared to the Anemo Archon, nor to the Geo Archon, nor to the Shogun who ruled eternity.
Even if the Chat Group rose to LV4, it would not be enough. Only when it reached LV5 might he stand at the same height as Raiden Ei, Zhongli, or Venti.
With that sober awareness in mind, he and Kuki Shinobu waited quietly at the table, wondering who would arrive first.
—
It was Zhongli.
He entered without flourish, robes steady, expression composed, and seated himself as though this gathering had always included him.
"Mr. Zhongli, have you finished your business?" Kuki Shinobu asked, genuinely curious. They had parted ways earlier at Liyue Harbor. He had mentioned something about returning to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
"Mm." Zhongli inclined his head. "There is little of note at present. Director Hu was quite pleased to see me."
There was the faintest pause.
"A few large commissions came in tonight. She remarked that my return was most timely."
For some reason, both Futsu Mitama and Kuki Shinobu sensed the helplessness hidden beneath his calm tone.
Work. Immediately upon returning.
And not minor matters.
Zhongli, now merely a consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, could not refuse. Rex Lapis might descend mountains and split seas—but Zhongli could not decline Director Hu.
"A large commission?" Futsu Mitama's lips twitched slightly. He could almost see Hu Tao's eyes sparkling with entrepreneurial delight.
"A few elderly residents of Qingce Village have passed away," Zhongli said, pouring tea with unhurried grace. "Director Hu investigated personally. Though their deaths were natural, she discovered lingering malevolent spirits in the vicinity."
He took a measured sip before continuing.
"The exorcists were called away by the Qixing to handle remnants of a demon god. Skilled hands were unavailable. To ensure safety, Director Hu resolved to act herself."
Another pause.
"I arrived…just in time."
The implication was clear.
Hu Tao's "fortunate coincidence" was Zhongli's inevitable overtime.
"Evil spirits?" Futsu Mitama and Kuki Shinobu exchanged glances.
To them, this seemed beneath the involvement of someone who once stood as the Geo Archon.
Yet Zhongli merely finished his tea.
Just then, laughter drifted in from outside.
Two figures approached—one with catlike ears, one with foxlike elegance.
Keqing and Yae Miko.
Their arrival together drew genuine surprise.
"Little ones," Yae Miko smiled lazily, her tone playful. "Is it so shocking that I arrived alongside the Yuheng?"
Her gaze slid, subtle but sharp, toward Zhongli.
There was curiosity in her eyes.
Too many gods spoke easily with this "ordinary consultant." Raiden Makoto. Maha Rukkhadevata. Venti. Guizhong. Even Azhdaha.
And yet he claimed to be nothing more than a mortal man.
Zhongli continued drinking tea as though the world itself held no weight.
Futsu Mitama noticed the doubt flicker across Yae Miko's face. He said nothing. If the old dragon wished to remain concealed, even Adeptus and Harbingers had failed to see through him.
Albedo had perceived him immediately—because Albedo himself was an existence born of taboo. He could sense danger instinctively.
Yae Miko, however, was still a five-hundred-year-old fox.
Curious.
Sharp.
But not yet beyond deception.
"It was convenient," Keqing said as she sat. "I completed half the task assigned by Rex Lapis. I'll eat briefly, then return to work tonight."
Even before the dishes arrived, her nose subtly twitched toward Wanmin Restaurant.
Golden Shrimp Balls.
Futsu Mitama observed her with mild amusement. She had not taken a single bite, yet her mind was already organizing the remainder of her schedule.
"Yes," Yae Miko said lightly. "Balance between work and rest is essential."
Yet her tone carried fatigue.
For centuries she had guarded Inazuma in shadows. The peace that endured for so long bore her silent fingerprints. But now—Sakoku Decree. Vision Hunt Decree. Five hundred years of accumulated imbalance had finally erupted.
Talents dwindled.
The capable were driven out or suppressed.
The Yashiro Commission preserved itself carefully. She could not interfere too openly.
In Liyue, however—
Beidou. Keqing. Ningguang. Ganyu. Yelan.
Capable. Devoted. Confident in Rex Lapis.
God protects the people. The people revere their god.
Once, Inazuma had been like that too.
"Food's here!"
The spell broke.
Xiangling arrived in high spirits, Guoba toddling beside her.
"Keqing~! Mr. Zhongli!"
Her smile was bright. Customers like Zhongli—knowledgeable, articulate, able to critique flavors precisely—were rare treasures to a chef.
Guoba, however, had other priorities.
"Lulu Lulu—!"
He ran toward Zhongli at alarming speed.
His footing slipped.
Golden Shrimp Balls flew into the air.
Keqing's pupils narrowed. Her hand shot out instinctively.
Xiangling gasped—not for the food, but for Guoba.
A gentle wind rose.
The small bear steadied mid-fall.
The golden spheres froze in place as if suspended by invisible silk threads.
All eyes turned.
Futsu Mitama lowered his hand slowly, Anemo Element flowing softly around him.
Yae Miko's smile tightened ever so slightly.
Anemo again.
For someone who might inherit Inazuma's thunder, he seemed increasingly aligned with the wind.
"It has been some time," Zhongli said quietly as he helped Guoba upright.
A small object materialized in his palm.
Condensed resin.
He held it out.
Guoba tilted his head. "Lu?"
Without hesitation, he swallowed it whole.
Every informed gaze at the table sharpened.
Only Xiangling remained unaware.
Flames erupted around Guoba's body—warm, radiant, gentle yet unmistakably divine.
Zhongli's golden eyes gleamed faintly.
Yae Miko leaned forward slightly.
Futsu Mitama felt it clearly.
Divine authority.
Though faint, though incomplete—it was the unmistakable resonance of a god.
Among them, only Zhongli and Yae Miko understood it as intimately as he did. Futsu Mitama himself bore fragments of two divine authorities. He knew the texture of such power.
For a brief, breathtaking moment—Was the God of the Hearth returning?
Guoba's flames burned brighter.
Then—
They dimmed.
The warmth in the air slowly dissipated.
The brief surge of divine authority—ancient, steady, unmistakably godly—faded like embers settling back into ash.
Guoba blinked. Then he chirped.
"Lululu~"
And rubbed against Zhongli's leg with the same simple affection as always.
The silence around the table was almost tangible.
No one spoke. Not because they did not understand what had happened—but because they understood it too clearly.
The God of the Hearth, once known as Marchosius, had not returned.
Only a fragment stirred. A spark, not a flame.
Zhongli's golden eyes dimmed slightly. The disappointment he concealed was subtle, but those who knew him well could detect it.
"Divine authority cannot be restored by external means alone," he said calmly at last. "Even condensed resin cannot compensate for the erosion of sacrifice."
The condensed resin he had given Guoba was no ordinary resource. It contained crystallized elemental energy refined to remarkable purity. If anything could stimulate dormant authority, it would be this.
Yet Marchosius had once burned himself dry to protect Liyue during the Archon War. Authority spent in self-sacrifice does not regenerate like elemental stamina. It fragments. It disperses into the land.
Perhaps, in a sense, Liyue itself now carried his divinity.
Yae Miko's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"That was undeniably divine authority," she said softly. "Not imitation. Not residual blessing. Genuine."
She glanced at Zhongli.
"You anticipated this possibility."
He did not deny it.
Across the table, Futsu Mitama felt the resonance more sharply than the others. The authority within him stirred faintly in response to Guoba's brief ignition. Authority recognizes authority. Even diminished, it carries weight.
But what he sensed most clearly was incompleteness. It was like hearing only the first note of a long-forgotten melody.
Kuki Shinobu exhaled quietly.
"So the condensed resin only stimulated what was already present," she concluded. "It didn't restore what was lost."
"Correct," Zhongli replied. "Authority cannot be forced back into a vessel that has willingly relinquished it."
Keqing folded her arms, thoughtful.
"If divine authority cannot be artificially replenished, then the only path to restoration would be—" She paused.
"Recognition," Futsu Mitama finished quietly.
Everyone looked at him.
He continued, voice steady. "Authority is not merely power. It is also faith. If Marchosius' name is forgotten, his authority weakens. If remembered—if invoked—if believed in—"
Yae Miko's smile returned, thin and knowing.
"A god sustained by memory."
She understood this concept well. In Inazuma, faith was structured. Regulated. Directed.
In Liyue, however, the relationship between god and people was more—contractual.
Zhongli did not respond verbally, but the silence carried agreement.
At the edge of the table, Xiangling looked from one face to another, utterly confused.
"Uh… are you all okay? Why are you staring at Guoba like that?"
Guoba, meanwhile, had already turned his attention back to the Golden Shrimp Balls.
"Lulu!"
He pointed enthusiastically at the plate. The solemn atmosphere shattered instantly.
Futsu Mitama allowed himself a faint smile and nudged the plate toward him.
"If restoration requires recognition," Yae Miko said lightly, "then perhaps the simplest solution is the most effective."
She looked at Xiangling.
"Tell me, little chef. How many in Liyue know Guoba's true name?"
Xiangling blinked.
"True name? Guoba is Guoba!"
Exactly.
Keqing's eyes sharpened slightly.
If Liyue's people were reminded—if stories were retold—if the God of the Hearth's sacrifices were once again spoken of openly—
Would authority answer?
Zhongli finally placed his empty teacup down.
"For now," he said evenly, "there is no need to rush."
His gaze rested briefly on Guoba, who was chewing happily, oil smudged around his mouth.
"He chose to forget." And that choice deserved respect.
Futsu Mitama leaned back slightly. The experiment had failed in the immediate sense. But it had proven something critical: the ember remained.
Authority was not extinguished.
Only dormant.
And dormant embers, under the right conditions, could ignite again.
Outside, the harbor lights flickered to life one by one, reflecting against the darkening sea.
Within Wanmin Restaurant, warmth returned—not from divine fire, but from food, companionship, and unspoken understanding.
The miracle had not occurred.
But neither had hope been extinguished.
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