At Wangshu Inn, on stage, Li Mo was lost in memory, his hoarse voice tinged with sorrow as he recounted the experiences of that lifetime.
As he spoke, the Electro energy above the inn shifted rapidly, flashing scene after scene.
In the images, the boy who longed for freedom, in the final moment after defeating the Lord of the Tower and tearing down the wind wall, could no longer fulfill his promise to Barbatos. He fell to the ground and lost his life.
Now, below the stage, some in the audience, moved by Barbatos and young Venti, could not hold back.
"Storyteller, you've done it again—"
"You said there'd be no tragedy this time, that you'd give us something sweet to recover. And then you kill off the boy in the blink of an eye?"
"How could you? We were about to win, and you still killed him—"
"The Lord of the Tower falls, young Venti dies—a mutual defeat if ever there was one—"
"It's a well-told story, but it costs too many tears—"
"Storyteller, this is your last chance. Change the ending. Let the boy live."
To most of the audience, this was a deeply moving story.
But they questioned its authenticity.
After all, Barbatos was a powerful archon. How could he have been born from a mere boy?
That was absurd.
Besides, everything in the story was too coincidental.
The Lord of the Tower fell, and happened to pick up a bow?
He drew the bow and happened to aim at the boy?
Barbatos happened not to have formed a physical body yet?
To the audience, though the story had its flaws, it was touching.
It moved them to tears.
Indeed, many in the audience had shed tears over young Venti's death.
Not only ordinary listeners. Even Keqing of the Liyue Qixing, Shenhe the disciple of the adepti, and Hu Tao, the director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, could not tell truth from fiction.
Keqing sighed softly. "Perhaps—"
"To know whether this story is true, we would have to ask one of the Seven."
But this was unrealistic.
Keqing knew that Rex Lapis of Liyue had just passed; his soul had yet to find peace. He could hardly rise from his coffin to speak.
The Raiden Shogun of Inazuma had not left Inazuma in centuries. It was even more unlikely that she would come to Liyue just for a storyteller's tale.
And Barbatos, the Anemo Archon in the story, was known for doing nothing of consequence and had long since vanished. How could he appear at Wangshu Inn?
Keqing concluded that none of the Seven would appear at this inn.
Which meant, given the circumstances, it was impossible to verify the truth of the story.
But beside her, Shenhe, who had been watching the storyteller intently, suddenly spoke seriously. "I think this story is true."
Hu Tao blinked. "Why?"
Keqing was also puzzled. "Yes, how can you be sure?"
Was it adeptal power?
Even Shenhe's master, Cloud Retainer, might not have the ability to discern truth from fiction. How could Shenhe?
But Shenhe kept her gaze fixed on Li Mo on stage. In a calm voice, she said, "Because—"
"I see tears in the storyteller's eyes."
In that moment, Shenhe looked at Li Mo and a bold thought formed in her mind.
Could it be that these stories were so vivid because the storyteller had lived them?
Could it be that they were so deeply etched in his memory because he had experienced them himself?
If so, everything would make sense.
Aside from this possibility, Shenhe could think of no other explanation.
As this thought crossed her mind, when she looked at the stage again, her expression had changed.
What kind of courage did it take to bare one's past pain before everyone?
What was his purpose?
Shenhe was puzzled.
Unfortunately, in the entire inn, all the listeners were captivated by the story. Apart from Shenhe, no one else thought of this possibility.
No one noticed.
...
Meanwhile, in another corner of the inn, the Raiden Shogun's expression remained cold. But hearing of the boy's death, even she was moved.
She turned to Zhongli. "Do you think—"
Before she could finish, Zhongli cut her off. "I think we should hear the story to the end before discussing anything else."
The Raiden Shogun's expression grew colder. She had not expected Zhongli to dismiss her so bluntly.
She reached for Musou Isshin, ready to teach him a lesson, but stopped herself. "Hmph. I'll let this slide."
Beside her, Yae Miko covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.
She quietly took out a notebook and pen, jotting down the amusing exchange between the Raiden Shogun and Morax.
When she returned to Inazuma, she could publish this in Yae Publishing House's magazine. It would surely be popular.
The Raiden Shogun turned. "Miko, what are you doing?"
Yae Miko smiled. "Creating a light novel. Little interesting stories. Would you like to see?"
The Raiden Shogun: "Forget it."
...
Now, on stage, Li Mo took a sip of bitter tea, exhaled deeply, and adjusted his emotions.
He began to speak again.
As he spoke, the Electro projections above the inn shifted once more.
The image showed a small hill. A tall tree. Green grass. A lone grave.
The scene changed.
A blurry figure appeared—Barbatos, now possessing a physical form.
After donning Venti's cap and cape, Barbatos had made his decision.
He would become the Anemo Archon of Mondstadt, spreading freedom across the land, letting songs of freedom echo in every corner.
Thus, Barbatos declared war on every god in Mondstadt.
Harp in hand, he sang songs of freedom in every battle.
At first, he sang out of tune and fumbled the strings.
Sometimes, other gods mocked him.
But battle after battle, he learned to play the harp, learned to sing, imitating the boy he had once known.
One by one, he defeated the gods of Mondstadt.
Years later, Barbatos had grown powerful enough to defeat every god in Mondstadt, great and small.
He won the Archon War.
He became the Anemo Archon, one of the Seven.