Genshin Impact's Incense Burner Of Liyue [593]

Gu Sanqiu, having been kicked off the mountaintop, rose calmly into the air. Blessed with the power of fierce winds, he wasn’t remotely fazed by such a sudden little surprise.

Like the old man could ever actually do anything to me anyway~

Zhongli gave a helpless smile. Matters of Liyue weren’t his concern—whether Gu Sanqiu fancied calling himself the Crown Prince of Liyue or the Shadow Emperor behind the scenes, there was really no need to tell him.

It was just this brat’s way of cracking jokes to smooth over tension.

Even if that method wasn’t exactly friendly to one’s blood pressure.

Zhongli’s expression grew serious. “You remember what I told you just now, don’t you?”

“Don’t reveal your old man’s identity in front of Hu Tao.”

“Good.”

With that, Zhongli stepped into the air and slowly disappeared into the sea of clouds. “I still have matters to handle on the Yue clan’s side. You head back first. Having an adeptus stationed in Liyue Harbor will help keep things stable.”

“Yes, yes, I’m just a pitiful, overworked child.”

Gu Sanqiu didn’t even glance at the old man’s spatial walk. The Gnosis was nothing more than a glorified work badge. People talked like losing it would make the old man weak or something.

If you thought about it boldly, the Gnosis might even be a tool from that gorgeous woman upstairs, meant to limit the raw divine power of the Archons—filtering that one-of-a-kind, overwhelming force to make it more compatible with Teyvat.

Put a little crudely, it was basically like sewage treatment. Or energy conversion.

Losing the Gnosis might mean he couldn’t swagger under that beauty’s nose anymore, but in terms of power? He might even be able to recover back to his old strength.

Either way, beating someone up would still be easy as ever.

A flash of green light, and Gu Sanqiu flew back toward Liyue Harbor. There was still a mountain of things waiting for him there.

Ancient warships from the Archon War era still hovered over the four corners of the harbor. Any foreigner with funny ideas took one look and quickly thought better of it.

Technically, the ships were supposed to go straight back to the museum once deployed—but Keqing had come to discuss it with him, and they’d agreed it was better to keep them floating up there a while longer.

Foreigners without ill intent mostly just gawked at the terrifying might of the Archon War. The Sumeru scholars, meanwhile, stared wide-eyed and glowing with thirst for knowledge.

To the people of Liyue, the ships were a legacy—a tangible sense of safety passed down from their ancestors. They did wonders for administrative stability.

Gu Sanqiu had no objections. Besides, the cultivators responsible for piloting the Four Demon Warships and the Chilong Warship were still in the harbor, currently locked in a bureaucratic standoff with the Qixing.

Naturally, the Millelith had to reward their nominal subordinates for the cultivators’ great help. Beyond the formal commendations, most of it came down to material support.

Then the cultivators, right in front of the Yuhaiting staff, got in touch with their backers in Minlin and summoned a whole bunch of disciples—young men and women trained in talismanic divination, with a side of astrology.

In short: the quick-thinking types. They’d be the ones negotiating with the Yuhaiting folks, trying to get their sect a bit more compensation.

When Xingqiu heard about it, he cracked a joke in true little brother style—only to get jotted down in Chongyun’s notebook for future use as prime backstabbing material.

The elderly cultivators were more than self-aware. They were a bunch of old fogeys out of retirement—excellent at monster-slaying and demon-hunting, but totally out of their depth when it came to chasing compensation.

There was a generational gap. A forty-year generational gap, at least.

One of them even had the nerve to pipe up about doing good deeds without expecting reward—only to get promptly smacked into the dirt by his very prepared comrades.

The Yuhaiting staff were stunned. They hadn’t expected these upright, bushy-browed cultivators to pull that kind of move. Negotiations stalled. Someone even suggested filing a complaint with Lady Gu Xiang.

No—Lord Gu Xiang, technically.

But that one just turned a blind eye. They were all his people anyway, and he wasn’t about to take sides. Might as well treat the whole thing as a team-building exercise.

At the end of the day, they just wanted funding. Everyone knew how this worked—no lines would actually be crossed. One side was juggling budgets, the other wondering if they could wrangle a bonus meal out of it.

Meanwhile, Gu Sanqiu was flat-out loafing in the Jade Chamber.

In every possible sense of the word.

He was sprawled across Ningguang’s massive desk, propping his head up with one hand and munching on tea snacks with the other, flashing a handsome smile at Ningguang as she calmly handled paperwork.

He was here for money.

He’d fronted the energy costs for the warship deployment, so now he was seeking government reimbursement.

Keqing was the one liaising with the cultivator sects. At this point, she wanted to chop him in half just seeing his face, so he’d flown up here to find his big sis instead.

“You’ve been camped on my desk for almost half an hour. If you’re that fond of it, I can have it shipped back to your place as a bed.”

Ningguang gave her thick-skinned little brother a glance. “I told you. The reimbursement’s coming, but it takes time. Understand?”

“Nope. I want it now.”

Gu Sanqiu patted her hand with fingers still dusted in pastry crumbs. “I’m broke, Sis. Practically starving. If that subsidy doesn’t hit soon, I’ll have no choice but to set my sights on your treasury.”

“Mm. Here’s the key. Go help yourself. Just stop getting in my way while I’m reviewing documents.”

Her tone was exactly like coaxing a child with candy.

“Tch. Boring.”

Gu Sanqiu shifted positions and flopped further across the desk—crushing her paperwork in the process.

But Ningguang simply pulled the papers free and continued writing on top of his back, her brushwork neat and elegant. Clearly, her calligraphy was top-tier.

“Liyue already belongs to you. What more could you possibly want?”

“Aiya, we’re living in an era of human governance now. Stuff like ‘Liyue belongs to me’—you really shouldn’t say that in public. Not that it matters, I guess.”

Ningguang smiled faintly. “Heh. I’ve seen the Geo Archon.”

Gu Sanqiu didn’t even twitch. “Don’t joke, Sis. The Archon’s death was confirmed by you guys a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“Oh really?”

Ningguang traced a little turtle on his clothes. “You sure the Archon’s dead?”

“Of course.”

“Alright. I get it. The others won’t speak of it either.”

She smiled. “Still… in my heart, someone’s already filled that role.”

“Whatever you say, Sis.”

Gu Sanqiu floated up from the desk without changing posture. “You’ve already held the Rite of Parting. The celebration’s tomorrow, right? I’m gonna bring a few friends over to join the fun.”

“Go on, but don’t dawdle. It’s a critical time—don’t stay out too long, got it?”

“Got it.”

His wind-infused flight swept over Guili Plains and Dihua Marsh. Watching from below, Xiao—still faithfully carrying out his duties—blinked in confusion at the streak of green light.

If he remembered right… wasn’t the Archon supposed to be stationed at Liyue Harbor?

Why was he flying off again?

Bathed in the familiar thousand winds, Gu Sanqiu squinted contentedly, slowing his pace to enjoy the breeze before lazily gliding toward Mondstadt.

He was gonna see who had time off tomorrow. If any of the Knights were free, he’d just scoop them all up and bring them over. His wind would handle the round trip.

Venti?

He bet if he shouted up at the sky right now—“Liyue Harbor festival tomorrow! Unlimited free food and drinks! Exclusive gifts!”—that drunken bard would materialize on the spot and challenge the old man to a drinking contest.

That freeloading poet didn’t even need the invite.

He probably already caught wind of the celebration and was halfway to Liyue with Dvalin in tow.

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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!