"Enough."
For the sake of their ancient friendship, Zhongli salvaged the final scraps of Venti's dignity.
Glancing down at the swirling mass of undead beneath the walls, Zhongli's deep voice carried a steady, commanding cadence.
"It appears we face no critical threat tonight. These are baseline zombies; so long as they cannot breach our perimeter, we remain entirely secure."
"Tomorrow, we shall proceed according to our revised doctrine."
"One detachment will focus on supply logistics, stockpiling vast reserves of munitions for a protracted campaign."
"A second detachment will select optimal coordinates along the outer ramparts to open deliberate breach points and construct subterranean drop traps. Rotational guards will be stationed beneath these kill zones."
"They may employ localized lava flows or execute the targets manually."
"For maximum security, we must integrate automated redstone mechanisms into these breach points. Should a trap fail or the line buckle, the wall must be capable of sealing itself instantly."
Zhongli paused.
Designing precise redstone architecture was traditionally Guizhong's domain. With her currently absent, his gaze shifted toward the illuminated bird resting on the parapet.
"Cloud Retainer, are you capable of engineering this?"
"Set your mind at ease, Rex Lapis. Such trivial mechanical puzzles are well within my expertise."
Seeing her confident nod, Zhongli pressed on.
"I recommend keeping the drop pits free of lava during the initial phases of the siege."
"This horde serves as a natural, colossal mob grinder. Whether we are harvesting raw materials or allowing the vanguard to temper the durability of their SlashBlades, manual execution is a highly efficient choice."
"During these early stages, rotational guard shifts will suffice. So long as the perimeter watch remains vigilant, no hostile will slip through."
"Later, when the undead undergo their Blood Moon mutations and survival within the drop pits becomes untenable, we can flood the chambers with lava."
"Furthermore, Xiao. Seek out Ryen tomorrow and requisition a supply of Bedrock."
"We shall construct the bedrock foundations of these traps ourselves. No matter how wildly these creatures mutate, they will never possess the means to shatter an unbreakable block."
Xiao gave a crisp, solemn nod, accepting the directive.
Zhongli's tactical framework was virtually flawless. For an apocalyptic siege barely hours old, they had maximized their defensive posture.
The exact trajectory of the horde's weekly mutations remained a mystery. They could only build contingencies in the dark.
Counter every move with a calculated response. It was late in the game, but a flexible, reactive defense was their only viable path.
With the new orders issued, the commanders looked down at the swarming undead, a collective breath of relief escaping their chests.
The rolling explosions from the artillery batteries had ceased. Only the endless, grating shrieks of the zombies filled the night air, washing against the walls in dark, putrid waves.
Makoto's brow furrowed slightly. "We must attend to the psychological state of our soldiers."
"The sheer volume of this horde... even we felt a chill upon witnessing it for the first time. The mortal infantry must be deeply unsettled."
"Tonight's initial assault will undoubtedly leave many paralyzed with dread."
"We must organize counselors tomorrow to ease their minds. This campaign will stretch for weeks, and the enemy will only grow more lethal. A fractured mental state will invite catastrophe."
Zhongli offered a firm nod of agreement. "A vital observation. Tomorrow afternoon, once the traps are operational, we shall hold a grand mobilization rally."
"We will need to conduct regular morale assessments moving forward to keep the ranks steady."
Kitsune Saiguu, who had been leaning lazily against the parapet, suddenly perked up. Her eyes sparkled with bright mischief as she looked at Makoto.
"Does that mean... we should summon Gorou?"
"I heard a fascinating rumor from little Miko. During the civil war between the Resistance and the Shogunate, Gorou served as a remarkably attentive, comforting older sister figure."
"He apparently soothed the troubled hearts of countless frontline soldiers."
"That little puppy seems exceptionally gifted at emotional support."
Kokomi shifted uncomfortably, lowering her voice with a protective sigh. "Lady Saiguu... Gorou is a young man."
"Details, details!" Saiguu waved a hand with a breezy laugh. "Perhaps the soldiers prefer exactly that flavor of comfort!"
"What do you think, Makoto?"
Hearing Saiguu's proposal, Makoto seriously pondered the logistics.
She knew the tale of Gorou's secret alter ego perfectly well.
Yae Miko had gleefully packaged the Watatsumi General into Inazuma's supreme national idol: Ms. Hina.
During the darkest, most exhausting days of the war, Gorou, writing a popular advice column under the pen name Ms. Hina, had comforted thousands of fractured souls.
Ms. Hina's radiant charm and gentle wisdom were universally acknowledged across Inazuma. Her legions of devoted fans easily rivaled the profound influence Barbara held in Mondstadt.
Even after the war concluded and peace returned, Ms. Hina's popularity had not diminished in the slightest.
Most of the public remained blissfully unaware of her true identity.
Even if they knew, Saiguu's logic held weight. The fan base might simply grow more fervent.
After a moment of careful deliberation, Makoto nodded.
"Gorou is indeed highly skilled at steadying military morale. Kamisato Ayato, return to Inazuma tomorrow and escort Gorou here personally."
"While there, mobilize the next echelon of reserve troops for deployment. Once we break this siege, we must accelerate our colonization efforts across the New Continent."
"With the newly appointed Tri-Commission functioning smoothly, Inazuma's domestic affairs will remain stable in your absence."
Ayato bowed his head, accepting the task with a polite smile.
Kokomi felt a deep pang of sympathy. The thought of her esteemed General donning the persona of Ms. Hina to rally a multi-national coalition army felt profoundly bizarre.
"Sister Makoto, Gorou is still a boy..." Kokomi attempted to salvage her general's dignity one last time.
Unfortunately, even with Yae Miko absent, the Kitsune Saiguu possessed a boundless appetite for amusement.
Saiguu raised a hand, her lips curving into a sly, brilliant smile. "Worry not! I am an absolute master of cosmetics. With a dash of illusion magic and proper styling, I can flawlessly recreate the glorious Ms. Hina right here in this world."
"Physical appearances are entirely malleable."
Kokomi parted her lips, but finding no logical counterargument against a senior fox envoy, she let out a helpless sigh and fell silent.
She could only offer a silent prayer for Gorou.
It was not that his Divine Priestess had failed to protect him; Ms. Hina was simply too captivating.
He had only himself to blame for cultivating such an impeccable, caring persona.
"This zombie siege serves as a vital lesson for our coalition," Buer noted softly, her bright green eyes tracking the undead swarm below.
"Ryen mentioned this trial was triggered by our rapid civilizational ascension."
"We cannot predict if future milestones will trigger similar events, but this experience demands proactive planning."
"When constructing new municipalities or upgrading existing settlements in the future, we must integrate defensive architecture from the very first blueprint."
"Establishing trenches, kill zones, and automated redstone traps before the first building is raised will ensure we are never caught off guard again. Scrambling to erect barricades on the eve of war is a mistake we must not repeat."
The surrounding leaders nodded in profound agreement.
They had narrowly averted a crisis only because tens of thousands of troops were already stationed nearby, and the system had granted a brief two-day buffer period.
Otherwise, the scramble would have been disastrous.
Jean swept her gaze across the blasted craters littering the plains. The earth was scorched, yet scattered amidst the ruin lay a massive bounty of dropped items.
Mostly, it was rotting flesh.
Occasionally, an iron ingot glinted in the moonlight.
While not high-tier strategic resources, Jean's pragmatic mind saw their immense value.
Rotten flesh possessed numerous applications. It was perfect for breeding and healing their tamed wolf packs, and certain generous villagers accepted it in exchange for raw emeralds.
"A zombie siege is not an absolute detriment," Jean observed calmly.
"These creatures carry an immense volume of resources. A horde of this magnitude delivers a staggering payload of drops."
"When the sun rises tomorrow and purges the field, our logistics teams can sweep the craters and collect the harvest."
Hearing this, Venti propped his chin on his hand, his tone lazy and utterly disinterested.
"A pile of rotting meat. What is there to care about?"
"That is an incredibly shortsighted view," Jean replied, shaking her head.
"Rotten flesh sustains our wolf packs. Even back in Teyvat, its alchemical properties are far from useless."
"Furthermore, these are merely baseline zombies lacking mutations. They naturally drop common refuse."
"Once the Blood Moons trigger their evolutionary cycles, they will begin wielding tools, armor, and weapons."
"Slaying those variants will yield an endless stream of enchanted gear and steel, saving our forges a tremendous amount of raw materials."
"If we hold these walls, the spoils will be astronomical."
"Given the sheer scale of a forty-nine-day cataclysm, even with low drop rates, the final harvest will be a mountain of wealth."
Venti pouted, looking entirely unconvinced.
"I still think farming these things is tedious. A shower of casting staves dropping from the sky would be much better."
Eula rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with a sharp, aristocratic huff.
"You speak entirely from a position of personal greed! Magic staves are magnificent, yes, but arming tens of thousands of soldiers exclusively with wizardry artifacts would bankrupt our treasuries."
"Given the massive size of our standing armies, standard enchanted steel and baseline armaments remain our fundamental backbone."
"Do you even bother to view warfare through the lens of the Anemo Archon?!"
Faced with Eula's sharp scolding, Venti spread his hands with a bright, shameless grin.
"Ehe! What Anemo Archon? I know nothing of the sort! I have been happily retired for ages. If you seek the Anemo Archon, address Acting Grand Master Jean."
"I formally transferred the Gnosis into her keeping. Strictly speaking, she holds the absolute divine mandate of the wind."
The surrounding commanders stared at him with dark, exasperated expressions. Jean cast a profoundly tired look at the bard but refused to waste her breath arguing.
Venti had truly embraced his absolute freedom.
He had tossed away his divine title without a second thought. He wandered the streets weeping crocodile tears, wailing that he had failed Mondstadt by losing his Gnosis to the Fatui.
Yet anyone with a functioning brain knew he was putting on a theatrical farce.
A premier ancient god, the closest living peer to Morax, being strong-armed by Rosalyne? It was a laughable concept.
In truth, he simply craved eternal retirement.
Later, when the Tsaritsa discovered the limitless potential of the block world, the Anemo Gnosis lost its strategic value entirely. She tossed it back to Venti with utter disdain.
That return had left Venti weeping tears of genuine despair.
He had labored so hard to orchestrate his glorious resignation, only to have the glowing symbol of his office forcibly shoved back into his hands.
He looked at the Gnosis as though it were a cursed plague.
For a brief, glorious period, Ryen had borrowed the Gnosis to study its properties. Venti had prayed fervently that Ryen would keep it forever, even if he merely strung it onto a colorful necklace.
The Tsaritsa and Zhongli had also left their Gnoses in Ryen's care.
However, once Ryen mastered Imaginary energy and synthesized his own conceptual Gnoses...
Elemental authorities became entirely obsolete to him.
As Ryen had so bluntly stated: "Why would I bother with a mere elemental Gnosis when I possess the Spatial Gnosis, the Magnetic Gnosis, and the Molecular Gnosis?"
And so, the cursed plague returned to Venti's hands once more.
Recently, after an exhausting campaign of relentless persuasion, Venti had finally managed to force the Gnosis upon Jean. Over the past few days, he had been actively plotting a way to trick her into officially ascending the throne in Celestia's eyes.
Just as Rosalyne had once declared in the cathedral:
That glowing Gnosis was genuinely less valuable than a well-crafted chess piece.