Genshin Impact's Incense Burner Of Liyue [615]

“Their goal isn’t that?”

The old Matron furrowed her brow, thinking for a moment before her eyes lit up with understanding.

“You’re saying... they never intended to go head-to-head with the Knights?”

“From a rational perspective, they already are butting heads with the Knights,” Gu Sanqiu replied, looking utterly at ease. “What I mean is, they never planned to take it all the way.”

“Think about it—what gives them the courage to challenge the Knights of Favonius? Look at what they’ve done so far. They’re just a bunch of so-called dissidents pretending to obey the law. That’s all.”

“For people supposedly bent on overthrowing the system, they’ve been awfully law-abiding. Their actions don’t match up with what you’d expect from people seeking true regime change.”

“Or rather, it doesn’t match our assumptions about what their ‘true goal’ is.”

The Matron’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Fascinating. In Liyue, I believe they’d call this bargaining for the sake of a fallback position?”

“Not quite. If my guess is right, they never had any ‘final goal’ to begin with. All the noise and chaos was just a smokescreen meant to mislead us.”

“Blur the lines between real and fake. That’s how you move forward without being stopped.”

Gu Sanqiu shook his head slightly. “Maybe if they actually succeed, their ambition will swell and they’ll start reaching for more. But for now, that’s not the case.”

“These people know exactly what they are—rats trying to claw their way up from the sewers. And law? Law is both their shield and the guillotine waiting above them.”

“Just because they’re playing by the rules now doesn’t mean they always will.”

Outside the Church of Favonius, Gu Sanqiu handed off wheelchair duties to a few members of the Windward Patrol. If not for his immortal-level strength, they wouldn’t have let the old Matron leave the Church so casually.

He’d only remembered his honorary title of Holy Son of the West Wind because he’d run out of places to stay. Fortunately, the Church still housed a living fossil who used to be a diehard fan of his uncle.

The Windward Patrol were all zealous followers of Barbatos. The risk of identity leaks was near zero.

The real issue was whether these devout types would still cling to their unshakable faith after seeing Barbatos in his current state.

Given the delicate circumstances, Gu Sanqiu couldn’t just show his face openly. The city was swarming with spies watching his every move.

After exchanging pleasantries with the patrol, he vaulted up onto the cathedral roof and looked down at Windrise Plaza, where the bards below were still rambling on endlessly.

They had shifts. Seriously.

If Mondstadt had a legitimate Bard Association, these malicious clowns would’ve been blacklisted immediately for staining the honor of the craft.

It’s not that all bards were idealistic dreamers untouched by worldly concerns—Mondstadt’s history had its share of court bards trained to flatter the powerful—but this? This was something else.

Bards were meant to be free as the wind, a calling born of passion, not politics.

Even someone like Six-Fingered Jose at Angel’s Share could come up with lines like, “Master Diluc is like a vintage wine—complex, but ruined by too much ice.” A perfect line, really.

But these guys? Gu Sanqiu could practically see the script they were working off of—an internal “story anthology,” filled with manipulative narratives designed to deceive the public.

Members of the Musicians Who Roam the World were noble souls who fought for freedom. True bards were messengers of joy and liberty, sometimes historians, sometimes minstrels of heroes—like Venti himself.

These people? Just a bunch of twisted politicians.

Not that ambition itself was wrong—but their methods were.

The Lawrence Clan, dreaming of some lost glory, were really just spoiled nobles clinging to the delusion of superiority. Aristocratic pride and “noble bloodlines”? Laughable now. The fact that any of their descendants still wanted to restore that old order was almost impressive in how pathetic it was.

The Fatui and other foreign powers, on the other hand, were in it for cold, hard gain. Mondstadt wasn’t their home turf, so of course they’d take what they could and leave chaos behind.

Exploitative development. Greed like vultures stripping a corpse.

Gu Sanqiu tilted his head. “Maybe they think the destruction they’re about to cause is still somehow less than the damage they’re capable of.”

He knew exactly what their plan was: a blatant attempt to copy the rise of the Adventurers’ Guild—but twisted into a darker, more ambitious version.

Step one: disguise themselves as “freedom fighters,” plant roots in the hearts of Mondstadt’s citizens, gather a loyal following, and grow into an influential guild.

In doing so, they’d stay legally compliant—at least on paper. If they were smart, they’d even apply for one of the “Top Ten Guilds of Mondstadt” awards, or whatever honorifics the Knights offered.

Even if the Knights knew their intentions were rotten, what could they do? Crack down and risk turning public opinion against them?

With well-polished PR and cult-like propaganda, these rotten-core organizations could look like paragons of virtue. A shining corporate image burned into the public’s mind.

And once they reached that stage, taking them down would be exponentially harder. Even if the Knights expelled them from Mondstadt, the goodwill they’d amassed would let them regroup abroad—still able to influence Mondstadt from the shadows, even damage the Knights’ reputation.

By then, the misled masses would have turned into sleeper agents—convinced they were doing it all for Mondstadt’s future.

Once a poison seed is planted in the mind, curing it is close to impossible.

If the Knight structure were at full strength, if the expeditionary legions had returned, then none of this would be a problem. Hell, if they were bold enough, they could dance on a knife’s edge—take the enemy’s gift-wrapped sugar and shove the bomb back into their base with a bow.

“But alas, numbers are still a problem,” Gu Sanqiu muttered. “Too few people to go around.”

And that was only phase one.

Phase two? That was easy to guess. They’d start grooming loyalists from the local population—embedding them within the Knights. Slowly, steadily infiltrating both the military and administrative branches.

They could afford to fail. They could launch wave after wave of assaults.

But the Knights? They couldn’t afford to lose once.

Institutions were hard to enter, but once someone got in and didn’t break any major rules, kicking them out was nearly impossible.

The most dangerous toxin wasn’t the blade you saw coming—it was the one brewing inside your own walls.

Gu Sanqiu scratched his head. “If this thing spirals out of control… what then, my dear friends? If not for Venti’s ability to flatten the board, how are you planning to clean this up?”

From that perspective, personal heroism still had its value. As long as the person at the top remained incorruptible, a centralized figure could deal with problems far more efficiently than any system.

That being said… the Lawrence Clan was at it again. So what about Eula?

As captain of the Reconnaissance Company and a Lawrence by blood, she was now stuck right in the fire.

No better metaphor than a spit over open flame.

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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!