Chapter 22: Intense Training, Under the Dragon-Quelling Tree
Morning sunlight cut through the thick, sulfur-scented steam rolling off the natural hot springs, painting the wooden decks at the edge of the People of the Springs settlement in a warm, golden hue.
Lumine crossed her arms, staring down at the heavy machinery parked on the grass. It was a standard-issue training motorcycle, courtesy of the multiversal Chat Group system. The chassis boasted aggressively sleek lines, gleaming with a polished metallic finish and glowing neon accents that screamed high-tech—a stark contrast to the clunky Ruin Guards or Fontaine's clockwork meka.
"Whoa! Is this really our racing ride? It looks so incredibly cool!"
Paimon zipped eager circles around the chassis, leaving a faint trail of stardust. She hovered close, her tiny hands gently tracing the cold, smooth metal of the fuel tank.
"I didn't expect the system to automatically scale the seat down to fit my height," Lumine mused, running her fingers along the leather upholstery. "That is surprisingly thoughtful for a dimensional chat group."
A faint, wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "This definitely isn't Teyvat engineering. It feels like something from... well, from out there." She gestured vaguely toward the sky. "Even across all the worlds we visited before we got stranded, we rarely saw something that relied on such pure, raw mechanical control. Plus..."
Crouching down, Lumine inspected the undercarriage. Finding no obvious fuel port or combustion chamber, she pressed her palm against the side panel and channeled a surge of raw elemental energy into the metal.
The engine instantly flared to life. A deep, guttural roar ripped through the quiet morning air, vibrating right through the wooden floorboards. Paimon shrieked, tumbling backward in mid-air.
"Just as I thought," Lumine said, a satisfied smirk replacing her nostalgia. "The system adapted the engine to run on Teyvat's elemental energy. We just need to feed it a little power to kickstart the ignition. No need to hunt down whatever liquid fuel this thing originally required."
She leaned against the handlebars, shooting her floating companion a wicked, teasing grin. "Oh my. If memory serves, a certain self-proclaimed best guide in Teyvat has never actually driven a vehicle before. You wouldn't even take the wheel of the Waverider."
"Hey!" Paimon stomped her foot in the air, planting her hands firmly on her hips. A furious blush crept up her cheeks. "That... that was only because the Waverider's steering wheel was way too big! It was completely unreasonable design! Besides, Teyvat doesn't even have motorcycles! How was I supposed to learn? It's not like you've ever driven one of these metal beasts either, right?"
Lumine tilted her head, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. "Just because Teyvat doesn't have them doesn't mean I don't know my way around a clutch. Would you like to hire the famous Traveler as your personal driving instructor? My rates are very reasonable. Just one Sweet Madame per lesson."
Swinging a leg over the chassis, Lumine settled into the driver's seat. She tested the weight of the bike, adjusting her boots on the footrests and gripping the throttle. "Come here, Paimon. You might not be able to reach the pedals, but you have me. Let's start with the basics. Reading the dashboard is step one."
The promise of learning something new instantly melted Paimon's annoyance. She zipped over, perching comfortably on Lumine's shoulder and leaning her face dangerously close to the illuminated digital gauges. "Deal! But only one Sweet Madame! Now hurry up and tell me, what does this blinking blue light do? And why are those numbers jumping around so fast?"
Lumine chuckled, patiently pointing out the speedometer, the elemental gauge, and the brake indicators. The rising sun stretched their shadows long across the grass, framing two travelers entirely absorbed in their mechanical crash course. The casual morning air slowly gave way to the sharp, crackling tension of impending competition.
Meanwhile, lightyears away in the cozy Parlor Car of the Astral Express, the atmosphere was significantly more chaotic.
"Woohoo! Everyone, get over here and look at the custom paint job I designed!" March 7th cheered, practically vibrating with excitement as she materialized her motorcycle directly from the Chat Group interface.
The heavy vehicle hit the carpet with a soft thud. It was an absolute assault on the eyes.
"A pastel pink base coat, layered with glittery stars and Six-Phased Ice decals! Oh, and I slapped a massive, adorable Pom-Pom sticker right on the front fairing! Isn't it just perfect?"
Stelle sauntered over, a half-eaten snack in one hand. She leaned down, squinting at the aggressively pink machine while rubbing her chin in deep, exaggerated thought. "Not bad. It definitely screams March. But plastering the Conductor's face on the front bumper... are you planning to use Pom-Pom to ram anyone who cuts you off? I'm reporting this to the Conductor immediately."
"Oh, shut up! Like yours is any better!" March 7th huffed, crossing her arms.
Stelle smirked, swiping a finger through the air to summon her own ride. A heavy, brutalist machine materialized beside March's pastel nightmare. "Feast your eyes on true intimidation. A matte-gray chassis, slashed with hazard-yellow lightning bolts. I even modified the rear exhaust to look like a dual-nozzle flamethrower! I have officially dubbed it: The Invincible Galaxy Overcomer No. 1."
Sitting on one of the plush velvet couches nearby, Dan Heng had been quietly scrolling through the Express's databank. At the sound of that name, he choked on his coffee. He lowered his datapad, shooting Stelle a look of deep, exhausted helplessness.
"Hey! Stelle! What kind of garbage name is that?!" March 7th shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at the gray bike. "And that dull color scheme is so boring! My Pom-Pom aesthetic is infinitely superior!"
"Can cuteness be eaten for dinner? Can it win a high-stakes death race?" Stelle planted her hands on her hips, her expression radiating absolute, unearned smugness. "Speed! Unbridled power! Pure, unadulterated intimidation! Those are the keys to victory! Just you wait, March. That first-place prize of three hundred points is already sitting in my pocket."
"Hmph! Stop bragging before you even start the engine!" March 7th puffed out her cheeks, utterly unconvinced by the Trailblazer's grandstanding.
Dan Heng sighed, setting his datapad face-down on the coffee table. "According to the Chat Group's event rules," he stated, his calm, measured voice cutting through their bickering, "the system provides uniformly standardized motorcycles. The paint job offers absolutely zero statistical advantage. It does not affect performance."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The only variables that matter are the driver's mechanical mastery, their ability to adapt to the track environment, and their split-second reflexes."
Stelle immediately spun around, looking deeply offended. "How can you say the paint job is useless?! Look at this aggressive styling! When I rev this engine at the starting line, the sheer aura of my hazard-yellow lightning will strike fear into the hearts of my enemies. They'll yield the track out of pure terror. First place is basically guaranteed."
Internally, she grumbled. She had spent three agonizing hours in the system's customization menu, tweaking color sliders and exhaust angles to achieve peak coolness. For Dan Heng to dismiss it all as useless was a crime she simply refused to accept.
Meanwhile, deep within the arid, dust-choked Outer Ring of New Eridu, inside a makeshift garage in Blazewood.
Belle and Wise sat bathed in the harsh, blue glow of multiple monitors. Complex data streams, topological maps, and fluctuating Ether distribution charts of the Hollows scrolled rapidly across the screens. Two bowls of instant noodles sat on the desk beside them, the broth long gone cold, completely ignored.
"Brother, the Ether readings inside the Hollow are spiking again," Belle said, her brow furrowed in concentration. She tapped a pen against a rapidly climbing red curve on the monitor. "The fluctuation pattern is almost identical to the Ether peak we recorded during the last Tour de Inferno."
Wise didn't look away from his screen. His fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard in a blur of keystrokes, instantly rendering a 3D comparative model. "Hmm. The match is a ninety-four percent overlap. It looks like the Hollow activity near the race route Caesar provided operates on a cycle of periodic enhancement. Finish compiling this data model, Belle. We need to warn Caesar and the Sons of Calydon to stay on high alert during the race."
He finally stopped typing, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his strained eyes. He shifted his gaze to a secondary monitor, which was currently looping the telemetry data from their recent simulated training runs.
"We've only been able to squeeze in a few practice laps during our lunch breaks and late at night," Wise noted, a hint of fatigue in his voice. "Thankfully, we both already have our driver's licenses. Adapting to the Chat Group's motorcycle controls wasn't too steep of a learning curve."
Belle let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back in her gaming chair. "Yeah, but you said it yourself, we only know the basics. This is a high-stakes multiversal death race, Wise. Knowing how to use the turn signals isn't going to cut it."
She stared up at the ceiling, her expression turning grim. "And when I look at the racing techniques Caesar and her crew use..."
She shuddered slightly. "We can't replicate that. We just can't. Their entire driving philosophy revolves around completely ignoring the laws of physics, treating rough terrain like a suggestion, and relying purely on adrenaline and gut instinct to survive. It's suicidal. Inside a Hollow, a single missed gear shift means getting swallowed by Ethereals."
Her mind flashed back to Caesar's demonstration earlier that week, the violent, tire-shredding drifts, the way the gang leader leaned into hairpin turns until her knee guards were literally throwing sparks off the asphalt. Belle felt a phantom knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She and Wise were brilliant Proxies, but physically? They were just ordinary people. There was no way they could master that kind of extreme riding in a few days.
Add their massive backlog of Proxy commissions to the mix, and their actual track time was practically non-existent.
"Agreed," Wise nodded solemnly, fully sharing his sister's sense of self-preservation. "Let's just treat the Sons of Calydon's riding style as an extreme reference point. Under no circumstances should we actually try to imitate them."
He turned to face her, his expression dead serious. "Remember, Belle. Safety first, competition second. Our only objective is to cross the finish line in one piece, secure the baseline participation points, and roll the system's lucky draw. Do not let the adrenaline get to your head. We still have a mountain of real-world responsibilities to handle."
Despite his cautious words, a sharp, unmistakable hunger for the system's promised rewards flickered in his calm eyes.
The siblings exchanged a knowing smile. Without another word, they spun their chairs back to the glowing monitors. The frantic clatter of mechanical keyboards and the rhythmic pinging of Ether data analysis filled the garage, composing the unique, digital rhythm of their battle preparations.
Back in Teyvat, deep beneath the roots of the Dragon-Queller at the base of Mt. Hulao.
The atmosphere in the cavernous underground domain was suffocatingly oppressive, carrying the crushing weight of solidified bedrock. Eight colossal stone pillars erupted from the cavern floor, towering like silent, unyielding sentinels. They were arranged in a complex, ancient formation, encircling the massive, trembling form of Azhdaha.
Veins of rich, liquid gold pulsed across the weathered surfaces of the pillars. The glowing runes linked together, weaving an complex web of light that formed an indestructible, suffocating seal. The sheer density of majestic Geo energy in the air made it difficult to breathe.
"MORAX!"
A deafening, devastating roar detonated from the center of the seal. The sound was thick with centuries of festering rage and blinding resentment, slamming violently against the cavern walls. "How can the regrets of a thousand years be repaid?!"
Thick, glowing chains of elemental energy bit deep into Azhdaha's rocky scales. The Lord of Vishaps thrashed violently against his bindings. With every frenzied heave of his massive body, the golden runes on the pillars flared blindingly bright, sending violent tremors ripping through the subterranean crust.
His colossal, reptilian eyes burned with nothing but chaotic, primal madness. The relentless curse of Erosion had long since devoured the wise, gentle soul of the Earth Dragon, leaving behind only a hollow shell consumed by a deep-seated, agonizing hatred for his oldest friend.
Zhongli stood perfectly still just beyond the edge of the glowing seal. His hands were clasped loosely behind his back. His piercing, cor-lapis eyes remained fixed on the massive beast thrashing in the dirt.
Beneath his stoic exterior, a tempest of unspeakable emotion churned in the retired Archon's gaze. There was deep guilt. There was quiet, suffocating sorrow. But above all, there was the crushing, solitary weight of a thousand-year contract that he was bound to uphold, no matter the personal cost.
Slowly, Zhongli raised his right hand. Pure, unadulterated Geo energy bled from his fingertips, cascading through the air like a stream of liquid gold before silently sinking into the stone pillars.
The sealing matrix flared with renewed brilliance. The oppressive weight of the Geo element slammed down on Azhdaha, firmly suppressing the dragon's violent outburst and forcing him back into the dirt. The beast could only thrash against the reinforced chains, issuing a series of furious, helpless, echoing growls.
Watching the runes stabilize, Zhongli finally lowered his hand. The seal would hold, at least for the immediate future.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, measured breath of the dust-filled air, forcing the turbulent grief back into the deepest corners of his heart.
When his golden eyes opened once more, the sorrow was gone, replaced entirely by the resolute, unyielding calm of the God of Contracts.
With a mere thought, he summoned the holographic interface of the Chat Group. His gloved fingers hovered over the glowing blue keyboard for a long moment, carefully deliberating his next words.
Finally, he tapped the screen, sending a concise, heavily weighted message into the multiversal chat:
[Genshin Impact · Zhongli]: "@[Genshin Impact · Lumine] @[Genshin Impact · Paimon] You two, the preparations at Azhdaha's seal are complete. Please proceed to the base of the Dragon-Queller at Mt. Hulao to assist in purging his Erosion. I am counting on you."
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