Chapter 109: The Social Death of a Dragon King, and the Truth Hu Tao Discovers
"The name 'Daiyuan' has been recorded in the civilian archives of the Ministry of Civil Affairs, recognized and protected by the Qixing and the laws of Liyue. This identity is unique and cannot be altered."
Zhongli nodded slightly, his tone as even and unbothered as if he were merely discussing a trivial, everyday matter.
"Miss Keqing put a great deal of thought into this. Now that the procedures are complete, you may go to the household registration office at Yujing Terrace to collect all documents pertaining to 'Daiyuan.' From this day forward, you are a citizen of Liyue Harbor."
To Daiyuan, Zhongli's calm words struck with the force of a thunderclap.
The smug confidence that had moments ago painted his features didn't just freeze—it shattered. The color drained from his face, leaving behind a mask of utter, stupefied disbelief. His brilliant, foolproof plan—to simply abandon the embarrassing alias, shed this temporary skin, and resume his grand, carefree existence as the great Dragon King—had been utterly obliterated by Zhongli's quiet, devastatingly effective maneuver.
Go to jail? He wasn't afraid of that! Lose face? He hadn't cared about that either! After all, it was "Daiyuan's" face being lost; what did that have to do with him, the magnificent Azhdaha? He could have simply dusted himself off, adopted a new form, and been a proper dragon once more.
But now… Zhongli had actually… actually gotten him an official household registration? And it was registered under the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, of all places?
Did that not mean that "Daiyuan"—the very same individual who had disturbed the peace by joyriding in a "flying car" last night and devoured dozens of bowls of rice at the Ministry of Civil Affairs this morning—was now his one and only official identity for walking the mortal world of Liyue?
And it was the kind with the Qixing's official seal, recorded in the Ministry's archives?! This wasn't just losing face… this was complete and utter social death.
He, Azhdaha, one of the ancient, sovereign lords of the very earth beneath Liyue, was, on the second day of his newfound freedom, about to be saddled with the identity of "Daiyuan" and become the laughingstock of the entire harbor for the foreseeable future?
What happened to sagacious and mighty? What of glorious and grand? Where was the unfathomable image of an ancient Dragon King? It had all vanished like smoke, incinerated by a single, unassuming registration document.
The world swam before Daiyuan's eyes. He felt a wave of darkness wash over him as he envisioned the countless days to come, filled with the pointing fingers and hushed whispers of Liyue's citizens.
"Look, that's him. The new employee at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor who went flying around in that bizarre car and woke up the whole neighborhood…"
"Tsk, tsk, that's the one. I heard he eats a ton, too. Polished off a mountain of rice bowls at the Ministry of Civil Affairs…"
"My… my identity…" Daiyuan mumbled, his voice hollow and distant. His body swayed, and he had to grip the bars of his temporary cell just to remain upright. His eyes were vacant, as if his very soul had been ripped from his body.
At that moment, the Millelith guard—the designated "meal delivery machine"—returned, balancing a large platter of freshly steamed buns and a basin of vegetables. He took one look at Daiyuan, who now appeared as though he'd lost his entire family and was utterly weary of life, and froze. The man before him was a world away from the ravenous beast of moments ago.
Daiyuan slowly turned his head, his blank gaze sweeping over the fragrant, steaming food. A minute ago, he would have lunged for it. But now…
He let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to drain the last of his strength. Waving a weak hand at the platter, his voice was tinged with the deepest despair. "…Take it away. Just take it away. I've lost my appetite."
The guard could only stare. "???"
Was this a case of happiness arriving too suddenly? He glanced from the disconsolate Daiyuan to Consultant Zhongli, who remained as placid as if nothing had happened, and felt completely lost. How had the glutton who was just clamoring for more food because his "mouth had no taste" suddenly achieved enlightenment and renounced all worldly desires?
Daiyuan slumped back onto the makeshift stool, clutching his head in his hands. His entire posture radiated desolation and hopelessness.
It was over. Completely and utterly over. This life, this mortal world… before he had even begun to enjoy it, he had already tasted the bitter chill of social death. The future? A pitch-black abyss. This identity, this reputation… he was afraid it could never be salvaged.
Zhongli stood quietly outside the cell, observing his old friend's state. He lifted a teacup that had appeared in his hand at some unknown point and took a light, deliberate sip.
Hmm. Today's tea seemed exceptionally clear and sweet.
At the same time, in another quiet room within the Ministry of Civil Affairs used for temporary receptions, Hu Tao was negotiating with the clerk in charge of the case. She wore the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's signature smile—one that was both dignified and disarmingly approachable.
Her tone was a model of sincerity. "Brother Daiyuan is indeed a newly hired consultant for our parlor, personally introduced by our own Consultant Zhongli." She began by clearly establishing Daiyuan's affiliation, placing the responsibility squarely on the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and demonstrating her accountability as its director.
She then leaned in, her expression shifting to one of troubled sympathy. "It's just… alas, he's new to Liyue Harbor and not yet familiar with our local customs." She sighed dramatically. "What's worse, last night he accidentally ingested some… well, some rather inappropriate fungi. It muddled his mind and resulted in severe hallucinations."
As Hu Tao mentioned the "fungi," her voice carried just the right amount of heartache and apology.
"That's why he caused such a commotion late at night and behaved so improperly. For this, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is unequivocally responsible. We have caused trouble for everyone. The fault lies with our parlor's lax supervision, and if any compensation is required, we will cooperate fully and never shirk our duty."
Hu Tao's explanation was a masterclass in damage control. It protected Daiyuan (whom she genuinely believed to be a victim) while proactively accepting blame, thus preserving the parlor's reputation. She was thoroughly convinced that the so-called "flying car" must have been Daiyuan exaggerating the speed of an ordinary motorcycle, or perhaps a few short hops, which his addled mind had transformed into full-blown flight.
She was quite satisfied with her impromptu performance, already beginning to calculate whether this "unexpected expense" could be deducted from Daiyuan's future salary.
However, when the serious-faced clerk pushed a detailed incident report—compiled overnight and stamped with the Ministry's official seal—across the table, the practiced smile on Hu Tao's face froze solid.
The report stated, in clear, black-and-white script:
"The target piloted a uniquely shaped mechanical construct, rapidly ascending from the main street of Feiyun Slope. Estimated altitude exceeded fifty zhang, accompanied by a trailing stream of cyan-gold light…"
"…The mechanical construct continuously emitted a loud roar, causing widespread resident complaints. It repeatedly traversed at high speed in the direction of the Sea of Clouds and above Yujing Terrace, with erratic flight paths…"
"…Determined to be an unidentified flying object, posing a potential threat. The Guizhong Ballista defense array was activated for warning interception fire…"
"…The vehicle ultimately made a forced landing in the open area outside Yujing Terrace. The pilot, Daiyuan, was apprehended on the spot by the patrol team. A preliminary inspection revealed the vehicle was undamaged. The pilot had no obvious external injuries, aside from emotional agitation, and identified himself as 'Daiyuan'…"
Hu Tao stared at the phrases "lifted off the ground," "cyan-gold stream of light," and "Guizhong Ballista warning fire." Her small mouth fell slightly agape and refused to close.
Her previous certainty about "fungi poisoning causing hallucinations" was now being violently shaken by this ironclad, official report.
"No… no way?" Hu Tao murmured, her finger unconsciously tracing the word "flying" on the page. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
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