Genshin Impact's Incense Burner Of Liyue [618]

Lisa’s squad had carried out their operation smoothly, and so had the rest of the teams.

If only Albedo had managed to create a long-range, real-time communication device, then Jean—stationed at headquarters—would by now have received a flood of status reports: “Recon Squad, mission complete.” “Eighth Platoon, mission complete.” And so on.

To the north of Windrise, within a now-ruined secret base, Sucrose was busily collecting damage data on Klee’s latest bomb prototype.

In summary: utterly ridiculous.

Sucrose sighed. The only reason the entire base hadn’t collapsed was thanks to her master’s godlike alchemical skill.

Otherwise, the fate of the high-value hostages trapped inside would’ve been... uncertain, to say the least.

More than likely, none of them would’ve made it out alive.

Klee bounced over, arms wide, as if describing the magnitude of the spectacular explosion just moments ago.

“Big Sister Sucrose! How was Klee’s new invention?”

“It was excellent, Klee. Both the gunpowder load and elemental capacity increased by nearly fifty percent. The blast radius and damage were significantly improved, too.”

Sucrose patted her head with a smile. “And to keep the same volume while increasing both—very clever craftsmanship.”

“But you cannot use it inside the city. Got it? Fire one off in Mondstadt proper and it’s straight to solitary.”

Albedo approached, dragging along a poor soul who was currently unconscious. This outsider had apparently assumed Albedo was just a harmless scholar and alchemist—tried to fight back, even had the nerve to insult him.

The result had been... less than pretty. The fact that the man was still in one piece was only because Albedo had considered the presence of his student and little sister.

Not that Albedo saw himself as blameless. He chalked it up to proximity effect—spending too much time around Gu Sanqiu was rubbing off on him. Normally, as a man of science, he wouldn’t be this quick to violence.

But emotional change—personality fluctuation—was part of growing toward becoming a real person. And all things considered, Albedo was in a surprisingly good mood.

“Sucrose, message Timaeus. Tell him to compile the intel and deliver it directly to Acting Grand Master Jean through the Church of Favonius. Make sure no one else touches it en route.”

He added, “If anything goes missing at the alchemy station, ignore it. I’ll reimburse the loss. Tell Timaeus this operation takes priority.”

Even under the eyes of countless spies, the Knights of Favonius had their own means and channels.

In Timaeus’s words, “They really don’t know what our teacher’s capable of.”

Not that he’d ever say that in front of Albedo.

“Yes, Master,” Sucrose replied.

With her off to carry out his orders, Albedo stayed behind to clean up the site with Klee. They, too, would need to remain outside for a while longer.

...

Ten days later, just as expected, trouble finally surfaced in Mondstadt proper. The conspirators had recruited a bunch of gullible fools and organized a sit-in protest at the gates of the Knights of Favonius.

Calling them “fools” was no exaggeration—because the manipulators behind this mess hadn’t even used particularly clever methods.

They exaggerated flaws, ignored contributions, and preyed on people who believed they’d been treated unfairly—those who thought they were unrecognized geniuses, when really they were just plain dumb.

The average citizen might listen to a few speeches or bard songs out of curiosity, but most treated it like street theater.

After so many days, anyone with a brain had started to notice something was off. Even the indifferent had begun to sense something wasn’t right.

For those still joining the protests, it was pure hypocrisy—eating with one hand while smashing the plate with the other.

Anyone who could be reasoned with had already been talked down. What remained were the self-righteous idiots who believed they were paving the way for a “new dawn for Mondstadt's darkening bureaucracy.”

Try to talk to them, and you’d be scolded. They accused you of submitting to tyranny, equating the Knights of Favonius with the old Lawrence Clan.

They were the “chosen ones,” guided by the winds, ready to unveil the filthy truth.

You couldn’t reason with someone already halfway in the grave.

“Funny, how every last one of them ends their speeches with ‘guided by the thousand winds.’ Like slapping that phrase on somehow gives them legitimacy.”

Gu Sanqiu stood hidden among the crowd, watching for those fanning the flames behind the scenes. That was his role—identifying instigators for Venti.

He could sense something was wrong. But like everyone else, he couldn’t resist indulging in a bit of spectacle.

The protestors were already taking shifts to voice their demands to the Knights. Chief among them: a vote-based system to form a “Democratic Oversight Committee.”

Even the name screamed trouble. Yet thanks to all the fanning from behind the scenes, some onlookers had actually started to accept it.

Logically speaking, even if the Knights had done their best, a citizen-driven reporting mechanism might seem appealing to outsiders. A little oversight could, on the surface, sound reasonable.

It wasn’t their fault. These schemers had hidden themselves too well. The Knights knew they were rotten—but the public didn’t.

The Church only dealt with faith. In terms of combat readiness, they were nearly as inert as the ancient Thousand-Year Wish sealed in Gu Sanqiu’s body. If it was purely a political issue, even the Church’s revered Matron wouldn’t speak up.

The idea wasn’t the issue. The people proposing it were.

This wasn’t about idealists trying to build a just system from tears and sacrifice. It wasn’t about weathering storms for the sake of a beloved homeland.

Those founders, even if their descendants grew corrupt or “inherited sin,” still deserved credit for what they built.

But this so-called “Oversight Committee” had rotten roots from the start.

It was never about justice. Just personal gain—even treasonous profit.

After much back and forth, their so-called “leader” finally took the stage—the one who, allegedly guided by Barbatos, had risked life and limb to retrieve the Thousand Winds Divine Stone from the ruins, surrounded by ruin guards and monsters.

“Puppet.”

That was Gu Sanqiu’s verdict. The man had the vibe of a righteous warrior, sure—but he was clearly just a figurehead. Time to warm up the wrists. This was the part where they swoop in and clean house.

By now, if Jean didn’t make an appearance, the crowd might start getting suspicious.

And sure enough, Acting Grand Master Jean walked out with her usual calm authority. No amount of shouting or accusation from the demonstrators could shake her.

The puppet leader visibly faltered. He’d clearly expected a bureaucrat, not the real Jean.

If this were just a simple protest, there’d be no need for the Acting Grand Master herself to appear. A few Knights could’ve easily dispersed them.

But that was exactly what their advisors had predicted—that Jean would take responsibility and show up in person.

They accused her of colluding with foreign powers, of fraternizing with outsiders.

They painted her, someone who had dedicated herself wholly to Mondstadt’s safety, as some kind of tyrant-in-disguise.

That was the true face of these opportunists.

“The Seven Archons of the mortal world… And now we’ve got the Abyss’s answer to that, too? What’s next—some bootleg Grace of God transformation arc?”

Gu Sanqiu shrugged. The difference between the Abyss and the surface world was just the power systems. The puppet-masters behind the scenes? Still playing death-match chess on both sides.

Khaenri’ah’s nationalism was ten thousand times more dignified than these people.

Even the Abyss wouldn’t take in trash like this.

---

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!