Ningguang, the Tianquan presiding over the Rite of Descension, glanced up at the blazing noon sun and gave a slight nod.
"The sun stands high; the auspicious hour has arrived. We beseech His Majesty for his decree."
The moment the words left her lips, a pillar of golden light surged skyward from where Ningguang stood.
Vast spirals of air began to gather above Liyue.
Then, sensing something amiss, Ningguang's expression flickered; a sudden gale howled across the Jingtai Platform.
In the wind's wake, a colossal shadow plummeted from the heart of the vortex.
Boom—!
The titanic form crashed beside Ningguang, sending up a cloud of dust.
Waving the dust away, Ningguang looked at the towering figure beside her; her pupils contracted. With a swift motion of her delicate hand, her face turned icy and severe.
"Your Majesty…"
"His Majesty has fallen—heat the wok!"
At those words, every pair of eyes snapped toward the speaker.
A golden-haired girl in white foreign attire trimmed with gold, a strange white Specter bobbing beside her.
The girl clamped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
The white Specter gaped, its big round eyes mirroring the shock as it stared at her.
"L-Lumine… w-what are you saying?!"
"Paimon, that wasn't me!"
Lumine shook her head frantically, trying to explain, but Ningguang had no time to spare.
"Seize them!"
At the order, the Millelith raised their weapons and closed in on Lumine and Paimon.
Why did we have to land in Liyue Harbor just in time for this mess—what rotten luck!
Lumine's heart pounded as she swept her gaze around.
She spotted a weak point and her eyes lit up.
"Paimon, let's go!"
Summoning the Dull Blade, Lumine charged toward the thinnest line of soldiers. She sidestepped a thrusting spear, slid her sword along its shaft, and raced upward.
Screech—
With a metallic scrape she knocked the spear away, then kicked its owner flying.
She held back just enough—only enough to leave him unconscious.
Another death now would make her look guilty beyond words.
Priority one: run first, think later.
Tearing a gap in the cordon, Lumine sped off with Paimon—only to find more Millelith ahead.
"Kiana, that…"
Bianca tugged Kiana's sleeve, pointing at the regal dragon corpse upon the Jingtai Platform.
"I don't think that blonde girl did it. There's not a single mark on the body; it looks like he simply dropped dead."
"True—if it were murder, there'd be wounds, right?"
Kiana flicked a glance at the 'corpse of Rex Lapis', then slid her gaze to Zhongli and spoke with subtle meaning.
"Indeed, it should."
Zhongli nodded calmly, neither confirming nor denying.
As the words faded, several savage cracks split the body of the Rex Lapis.
"…"
Spotting the new fissures, Kiana stared at Zhongli with unmasked scorn.
The man simply folded his arms, unruffled.
This old man's too shameless—patching bugs on the spot like I'm not even here…
All across Liyue Harbor, panic spread in the wake of the sudden death of their god.
Special Operations Na edged closer to Kiana and caught the hem of her coat—this felt like the safest place in the world.
Surely Kiana wouldn't let the restless crowd separate them?
Kiana answered with an indulgent smile.
Looks like she's forgiven her.
It really had been an accident—she hadn't gone that far, hand to heart!
She'd only been curious, letting her hands wander a bit and losing track of time until Special Operations Na woke up and caught her red-handed.
Special Operations Na had instantly assumed Kiana had stolen her first time—but that wasn't the case.
Kiana did have her principles! (trembling)
Thanks to that little incident, though, she'd reclaimed most of the soul fragments inside Special Operations Na!
Workhorse Na pressed close to her clan leader, who happily shielded her with an outstretched arm.
Gojo Na, Senju Na, and transformed Knight Na formed a protective ring around the others.
The rest were still frail and hadn't awakened any special powers—easy to be jostled and hurt.
At least, that was the objective assessment.
"Kiana, are we just going to watch?"
Bianca frowned; she didn't know why fresh wounds had appeared, but she still believed the girl was innocent.
Anyone who could subdue foes without killing them clearly wasn't a ruthless assassin.
If she dared strike a god, she wouldn't blink at cutting down ordinary soldiers.
"It's fine, sis—let's just—"
"I'm going to help."
Bianca shook her head gently, cutting Kiana off.
She extended her right hand, summoned Black Abyss White Flower, bent her knees—and vaulted to Lumine's side.
"Who…?"
"I'll get you out."
Bianca gripped her lance, eyes resolute.
She had to be careful—control her strength, harm none of these soldiers.
It was perfect practice for regulating her own power.
From the shadows, a short-haired orange youth with a cocky grin froze when he saw her jump in.
"Huh? Someone beat me to it?"
He sighed in annoyance and scratched his head.
"Guess I'll show myself early—otherwise the plan's toast."
He drew an elegant bow and leapt toward Lumine, Paimon, and Bianca.
Thud—!
In a few quick moves he knocked the surrounding Millelith unconscious, then pointed to a clear path.
"Go—head that way!"
He sprinted off first; Lumine and Paimon exchanged glances, glanced at Bianca, then followed.
Bianca cast one look back toward Kiana and went after them.
Helping a fugitive meant she'd be arrested on return.
Not that she feared a fight—but the less force used, the better.
Otherwise they'd look like outright villains.
Under the orange-haired youth's lead, Bianca's group reached the Northland Bank in Liyue.
"Phew—that was close."
Safe at last, the youth wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, tone light and breezy.
"This place… it's Fatui territory, isn't it?"
Sharp-eyed Lumine spotted Fatui uniforms throughout the bank.
She'd clashed with Harbinger 'La Signora' in Mondstadt; the Fatui were no friends of hers.
She suspected this youth had an ulterior motive for saving them.
Bianca knew nothing of the Fatui, but if Lumine distrusted them, they couldn't be good.
She shifted her stance, tightened her grip on Black Abyss White Flower, and studied the youth.
One wrong move and her lance would run him through.
Tartaglia felt the subtle pressure of being targeted; cold sweat slid down his temple.
This sensation—no less than when his master fixed her gaze on him—sent a thrill through him.
He wanted a fight!
But first, an explanation was in order.
Forcing down his battle-lust, the young man began to speak.
He forced down his urge to fight and started explaining to the three of them.
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