A gentle breeze blew.
The bard pricked up his ears. Through the soft wind from afar, he could clearly hear every word of the storyteller's tale.
Yes—someone in Liyue Harbor was telling the story of Barbatos, the Anemo Archon.
And they were telling it perfectly.
Even the bard himself could find no fault in a single detail.
The next moment, the bard, draped in his cape, wearing his hat, his hair tied in small braids, suddenly rose to his feet.
Following the wind, he gazed toward Liyue Harbor.
He murmured to himself, "So that's how it was. 2,700 years ago, that was how I was born from the storms."
"Venti, thank you."
"It was your music that created me and gave me my name. Let me take you with me to hear what the storyteller has to say."
With that, the bard took out a feather and placed it upon the weathered tombstone.
Then, carried by the wind, he vanished from where he stood, heading toward Liyue.
...
Meanwhile, at Wangshu Inn in Liyue Harbor, once Li Mo immersed himself in his memories, even the noise of the audience could not distract him.
Drawing from his memories of that lifetime, he continued his tale without pause.
As he spoke, the projections formed by Electro energy above the inn began to play.
They showed Old Mondstadt in its ancient state.
They showed the raging storms.
They showed young Venti playing his harp.
Below, the moment Zhongli and the Raiden Shogun saw the image of young Venti, their brows furrowed.
They were astonished. The boy in the story looked exactly like Barbatos.
Could it be that Barbatos, like the Raiden Shogun, was a human who had ascended to godhood?
The Raiden Shogun immediately objected. "Impossible. Barbatos's true form was not human. He was a wisp of wind. This must be something the storyteller invented."
Now, even the Raiden Shogun was beginning to doubt Li Mo's stories.
But Zhongli remained calm. "Let's listen further. I suspect the story is not so simple."
On stage, Li Mo did not pause. He continued his tale with deep emotion.
Above the inn, the projections continued to play.
In the images…
Young Venti, unaware of the effect his harp music was having on that wisp of wind, played his harp every day at the foot of the city walls because he loved the instrument.
He sang poems of freedom to the storms every day, accompanied by his music.
Days passed.
No one knew how many.
Young Venti began to compose his own verses, writing words like "gray sky" and "black earth" into his poems.
But he always felt something was wrong.
Was the sky truly gray?
Was the earth truly black?
The raging storms blocked all view of the world beyond. Young Venti could not see outside and could not know the true colors of the sky and earth.
Yet this did not dampen his creative spirit.
He scribbled on the ground, composing complete movements.
Then, he plucked his harp strings and began to sing as he played.
"Great god of wind, with a wave of your hand, drive away these raging storms—"
"Let me leave this tower—"
"Let me see that gray sky, let me see that black grass—"
Young Venti poured all his longing for freedom into his song.
But young Venti did not notice.
Each verse of his freedom song stirred the Anemo power around him.
The fragile wisp of wind within the storms seized this opportunity to absorb more Anemo power, growing stronger.
Stronger and stronger.
With the boy's song, that wisp of wind—the spirit of freedom—finally gathered enough Anemo power.
It leaped forth from the storms, becoming an independent entity, a new god of Mondstadt.
After breaking free from the storms, the wisp of wind did not leave. It lingered around young Venti, listening intently to the beautiful harp music, appreciating the songs of freedom.
Sometimes, without meaning to, it would ruffle young Venti's hair or stir his green cape.
Young Venti seemed to sense something. He would look around cautiously, and only when he saw no one nearby would he continue playing.
By his side, the wind spirit, circling without leaving, was lost in the beautiful music.
It murmured in admiration, "How beautiful…"
But even the wind spirit did not expect that what it had only thought in its heart would actually be heard by the boy playing the harp.
Young Venti was startled by the unfamiliar voice.
"Who's there?"
"What person?"
He quickly turned around.
But beneath the wide city walls, aside from the boy himself, there was no one else.
Young Venti murmured, "Was I hearing things?"
"An illusion?"
But the next moment, a somewhat youthful, excited, and clear voice sounded by his ear once more.
"You can hear me?"
"Wonderful, wonderful—I finally managed to make a sound. I truly am a genius."
Another voice?
Startled, young Venti quickly stood up and looked around.
But aside from the raging storms and the towering walls, there was nothing else.
Young Venti began to grow afraid.
He had heard that souls unwilling to enter the underworld would become ghosts in this world.
Had he encountered a ghost?
Thinking of this, young Venti could not help but step back. "What kind of ghost are you?"
A voice came from the empty air. "You're the ghost! I am a powerful god of wind!"
With that, the wind spirit used its wind-formed body to gently stir up specks of dust from the ground.
Young Venti was taken aback.
A god of wind?
No wonder he could not see it—it was merely a wisp of wind that had gained consciousness.
But with such power, you call yourself a powerful god of wind?
At the word "god," young Venti had felt some fear. But seeing the wind spirit display its power, he could not help but laugh.
All his fear vanished.
Young Venti smiled. "So you're just a gentle breeze."
"Congratulations on becoming my first audience member. My name is Venti. What is your name?"
Living in this chaotic age, Venti had seen many gods before. They were all powerful and fearsome.
This was the first time he had encountered such a weak one.
The wind spirit said uncertainly, "A name… I don't have a name yet."
"Your songs are so beautiful. Give me a name."
"Make it a powerful name!"
Young Venti was taken aback.
This was the first time he had ever given a god a name.
After a moment's thought, he said,
"Barbatos—"
"Your name shall be Barbatos."