Genshin Impact's Incense Burner Of Liyue [619]

The trash still kept pushing forward. The so-called freedom warrior bearing the Thousand Winds Divine Stone was still delivering his impassioned speech.

But what he failed to notice was that the expressions on the crowd had shifted dramatically.

“This ends now.”

Diluc appeared, greatsword on his back. “The farce has gone on long enough.”

The self-styled “Lightbringer” froze in shock. “Master Diluc, what do you mean by this? We are speaking on behalf of the people of Mondstadt! We’re bringing them the light of hope and democracy! Why would you stop us?”

“Unless…”

The implication of that final remark was clear: he was trying to sow doubt, cast suspicion with subtle malice. But aside from those who were already bewitched by his rhetoric, the rest of the crowd showed signs of open disgust—and that left the so-called warrior visibly rattled.

What the hell is going on?

“You bastard! How dare you question Master Diluc!”

A broad-shouldered man with a thick beard shouted furiously, “Back when I was still serving in the Knights—before I was forced into retirement by injury—Diluc fought beside us to protect the people! Where were you then?!”

“During the damn Iroch Incident, when the Ragnvindrs were slandered, where was your so-called ‘democratic brilliance’ then?!”

“When Diluc served as Cavalry Captain, where were you?! Hiding in safety, flapping your lips, you bunch of gutless cowards!”

The sound of a lute cut through the air. Six-Fingered Jose’s tone had shed all the usual warmth of a bard—instead, he now spoke like a hardened narrator of history.

“Master Diluc is like a fine wine… ruined only by too much ice.”

“Mondstadt’s commercial prosperity, his service as a Knight defending this land, even when his family was wrongfully accused—never once did he blame the land watched over by Lord Barbatos.”

“Master Diluc no longer smiles. That makes him imperfect… but that also makes him Mondstadt’s hero.”

“And you—mouthing off with no action to back it up—how dare you insult a hero of Mondstadt?!”

The crowd erupted. The Lightbringer’s expression crumbled into full panic. He hadn’t expected Diluc to show up here, and he suddenly realized—he’d made a critical misstep.

But how? By all accounts, Diluc had a longstanding grudge against the Knights of Favonius—surely he wouldn’t publicly defend them.

Somewhere in the crowd, a rather reckless butterfly-type bystander—also known for munching on popcorn—sneezed loudly.

“Someone thinking about me?”

“Of course, it’s your favorite uncle—me! Ehe~”

Gu Sanqiu turned to see a cheerfully grinning Venti emerge from the crowd.

And what made it all the more unnerving was the group trailing behind him: a colorful parade of bards, each one carrying an instrument of their own.

“What… are you planning?”

“They made a scene right in front of my statue. If I don’t retaliate a little, won’t people think I’m too soft?”

Venti winked playfully, then called over to Six-Fingered Jose, who happily scampered over to join the ranks of the bardic ensemble.

Gu Sanqiu twitched. Anyone who dared say Venti had a good temper ever again—he swore he’d slap them straight across the face.

Good temper? This was called "strategic restraint."

The only reason he rarely took action was because, as a ruling Archon, there were too many things he had to consider.

With a god as conductor, tuning was completed in under a minute. And just like that, a grand “impromptu” bardic symphony filled the plaza.

Wind and sword clashed in harmony, telling of Mondstadt’s trials during its founding.

From the echoes of battle rose flickers of tears and helpless cries—the courage to fight tyranny, to spill the last drop of blood against an unjust king.

Freedom—it had always been the true melody of this land.

By the end, this chorus—repeated and layered again and again—stirred something deep within every listener. Whether softly humming or shouting with the rhythm, people of all kinds joined in. It became the symphony of freedom.

The Lightbringer and the armchair psychologists lurking in the crowd suddenly froze.

They realized it. The poisonous seeds they’d spent so long planting—seeds of resentment and manipulation—had just been completely purged.

The symphony of freedom had swept away their fabricated democracy.

“Well done.”

Gu Sanqiu clapped lightly. With his level of spiritual cultivation, Venti’s music had no chance of swaying him.

But if the instigators’ think tank had even one psychologist among them, then Venti was undoubtedly a master of the craft—a true grandmaster of minds.

All their efforts—weeks or months of groundwork—obliterated by one divine concert.

It was like a villain finally amassing a group of brainwashed cannon fodder with promises of “family, unity, and riches,” only to have Venti snap them all back to reality with a single tune.

Now, Mondstadt’s citizens remembered the hardship of their ancestors and knew exactly why they had to fight to protect their home.

Democratic Oversight Committee?

Never heard of it.

What we hold dearest in Mondstadt is our freedom of will!

Venti subtly glanced toward Gu Sanqiu’s position. The latter gave a nod.

Gusts of wind scattered the crowd naturally, while tiny, imperceptible Geo obstacles separated out the embedded agents hiding among them.

By the time the music ended, the remaining onlookers finally noticed something strange—there was a ring of sour-faced individuals standing tightly around the so-called Lightbringer. They stood out starkly from the rest.

“These are all of them.”

There were likely still hidden agents elsewhere. But as far as the main stage went, this was the core network—and not a small one.

If Venti hadn’t bought time, it would’ve taken far more effort to round them all up.

Gu Sanqiu calmly watched their reactions—shock, fear, a creeping sense of hopelessness. The torrent of negative emotions deepened his understanding of the spectrum of human feeling.

“If the Oversight Committee truly fought for Mondstadt’s future, it might have had its place. But you… you were nothing but power-hungry conspirators.”

“Upon investigation, it’s been confirmed: not all of you are citizens of Mondstadt. Some belong to foreign powers like the Fatui, attempting to manipulate internal affairs and undermine the governance of the Knights of Favonius.”

That was when Jean finally spoke. And her words hit like thunder.

Gasps spread through the crowd.

Captain Jean said… what?

The Lightbringer forced a stiff smile. But he managed to stabilize himself through sheer mental fortitude.

“Captain Jean, I must object. We are fearless warriors striving for Mondstadt’s future—not infiltrators here to subvert its rule.”

“Yes, some of us lived abroad… but that hardly means we harbor ill intent. What you’re doing is tyranny!”

“First of all,” Jean said sternly, “the Knights of Favonius do not rule Mondstadt.”

“Mondstadt belongs to Lord Barbatos. The Knights merely inherit our forebears’ will, and govern in His name—with freedom as our compass.”

“There are no tyrants. No emperors. Only Mondstadt’s most loyal protectors. The Four Winds fight not for rule—but for Mondstadt.”

“In this new age, Mondstadt has no king.”

Somewhere in the crowd, a certain “ruler” of Mondstadt grinned ear to ear.

Jean’s words… had struck a perfect chord in his heart.

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This is a fan translation of 原神之璃月奉香人 by 淡白蛋清. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!