'Alright, that settles it. I'll keep watching for now. If needed, I'll find time to visit the old man next door for a chat.'
For someone like this bard, thoughts moved incredibly fast. What seemed like deep contemplation to others was, in reality, decided within a few fleeting moments.
To onlookers, it merely looked like he was thinking about what tune to perform.
"Alright everyone, get ready to listen closely—the greatest bard in all of Teyvat is about to begin his performance!"
As he spoke, another thought surfaced in his mind:
'The old man's grand play is about to begin. I've already nudged the Traveler's journey—she should arrive just in time.'
'Might as well go watch the show myself.'
'I wonder what the old man is doing right now… probably admiring the moon?'
——————
Meanwhile, in Liyue, the "old man" that the bard kept thinking about was indeed standing atop Mt. Tianheng, holding a teacup as he quietly sipped under the moonlight.
His own strength—and the strength of the nation he governed—gave him the confidence to calmly observe the shifting tides.
The possible birth of a second-generation Pyro Dragon King?
Liyue was the land of Geo. It had little to do with them.
And if trouble really came knocking, he could still lift his stone spear.
As for the disturbances in time…
Limited by his authority, he couldn't perceive much. What little he sensed came from his own unique nature, and he didn't overthink it.
If calamity came, then soldiers would block and water would cover.
Life would go on.
At worst, he and the adepti could unite and use external domain techniques to create a pocket realm—protecting a small corner of the mortal world.
If they succeeded, all would be well.
If they failed, then they would die where they stood.
An old friend once said: "A god of the land dies with the land."
He shared that resolve.
Otherwise, he would never have once said:
"Though I have no desire to contend, I understand the suffering of the people."
As for the changes that might follow success?
Even if they weren't just possible—but inevitable—so what?
Liyue's scale spoke for itself.
As long as it remained part of Teyvat, no great transformation could bypass Liyue.
There was no need to "hitch a ride."
They would board openly.
As for the anomaly in the moon…
He raised his head, but unlike the bard, his gaze did not pierce beyond the false sky.
Instead, it rested upon the false moon within the firmament.
"Would that I could buy osmanthus wine and share it with you… but alas, my old friend…"
He murmured softly, draining the tea in his cup.
Could this be your chance to return?
"…Guizhong."
——————
Among the Seven Nations, aside from the two lands still governed by the original Archons, not all others had plans in motion.
Some didn't care—like Inazuma.
Some cared but lacked the means—like Sumeru.
Others either couldn't perceive it, or had more urgent matters—like Fontaine and Natlan.
That left only Snezhnaya.
The most unique of them all.
While Mondstadt and Liyue's responses remained at the level of their gods making preliminary considerations…
Snezhnaya had already fully mobilized.
From the moment the reemergence of the Pyro Authority was detected, the Fatui had gone into full operation.
Under the Tsaritsa's command, the Harbingers began investigating anomalies within their respective domains. Informants scattered across the continent relayed every hint of unusual activity.
But it was clear—
There would be no results.
By now, the tension across various regions had begun to ease.
Especially here, within the domain of the Seventh Seat—
On one hand, Sandrone, known as The Puppet, had a clear sense of her role. She saw herself as nothing more than a diligent worker.
But that wasn't the main issue.
The real issue was—
"Co—lum—bi—na!"
"Are you ever going to stop?!"
Inside the office, Sandrone finally snapped.
She stood up, crossed the room in a few strides, and yanked the office door clean off its hinges before roaring at the colleague standing outside.
Nearby subordinates who could leave did so immediately. Those who couldn't buried their heads, internally screaming for themselves not to laugh—
Even as their lips twitched upward uncontrollably.
After all, the relationship between their superior and the Maiden was…
Hard to describe.
Very hard.
Columbina showing up outside Sandrone's door in the middle of the night to sing?
That wasn't new.
Veterans said it had been happening for years—perhaps even dating back to when their superiors first joined the Fatui.
But something had changed about a year ago.
The lyrics.
Not entirely—most of the time, her songs were still the same, her ethereal voice expressing longing, inviting others to share the moonlit night.
Except when she came here.
Like now:
"Under the full moon~ Columbina~"
"Full and still not sleepy~?"
"So bored~ wandering around~ until I reached the Seventh Seat's door~"
"Sandrone~ her room~ is still lit~"
"Shall I sing her a song~?"
"But she's busy~ like a workhorse~"
"No time to listen~ says 'stop singing'~"
And then?
"STOP SINGING!"
As expected, someone snapped.
No need to say who.
Even her shout perfectly matched the final lyric.
"Sandrone doesn't like it?"
"Then I'll stop for now."
As if knowing when to stop, Columbina tilted her head, looking at the now-visible Sandrone.
She casually walked inside as she continued:
"I'll sing again another time."
Sandrone froze, too caught off guard to stop her from entering.
"You—"