"I am planning to head to the surface soon."
Seeing everyone's attention shift to her, Baimeng played with her long hair. As her body shrank, her hair had shortened as well; the silver locks that previously reached her lower back now barely cleared her shoulders.
"No!"
Lumine reacted instantly with a sharp cry, her decisive tone startling everyone and drawing their gazes.
Realizing a moment later how inappropriate his outburst sounded, the young man pinched his fingers and spoke in a stiff voice.
"I mean... it's dangerous outside, and Your Highness hasn't fully recovered her strength yet."
The Abyss Mage silently nodded in agreement.
The young man glanced at Baimeng, as if wanting to say more, but his lips moved without making a sound.
Baimeng could more or less guess what was on his mind. If the news of the God of Dreams's resurrection got out, to say nothing of the few surviving enemies, The Seven certainly wouldn't be thrilled about a ticking time bomb wandering around their territory—not to mention the Heavenly Principles.
"It is precisely to find a solution that I must go to the surface."
The god's voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable majesty.
As for why Baimeng, who had always intended to hole up in the Abyss and live out her days in peace, had suddenly changed her tune, it was because she had discovered a fatal problem: she could no longer return to her adult form.
Gods could freely alter their shapes, though for convenience they generally chose the form that made it easiest to channel Elemental Energy. The strength of their power also influenced the form of their vessel, and vice versa.
Take Asmoday the God of Dreams, for instance: on the battlefield, she often appeared in the guise of a mature woman, reaping enemy leaders' heads with lightning speed and striking terror into grand armies.
How could a girl who looked barely ten years old, speaking in a soft, childish voice, possibly intimidate an enemy army?
Furthermore, Baimeng now found that the strength she could access was less than half of her peak—it was practically like having a max-level character hacked in half! No matter how good her artifacts and equipment might be, her baseline power simply couldn't keep up.
Looking at her blonde attendant's worried face, and seeing even the denizens of the Abyss hesitate, wanting to persuade Your Highness to abandon the idea, Baimeng felt as though she sighed more often than there were cracks in the palace walls.
Self-preservation... if only her weapon were still here.
It was a pity that a thousand years had passed, and she had no idea where that longbow had been dropped; perhaps it had long since been crushed by the wheels of history and vanished entirely.
After all, surely that person wouldn't have kept the weapon of a fallen enemy for a millennium, would they? Don't be ridiculous.
Baimeng subconsciously clenched her empty palm, let out a self-deprecating laugh, and wondered where she might procure something reliable to use.
Completely unaware of the events unfolding in the Abyss, a Consultant who looked like a distinguished young gentleman walked through the narrow streets of Liyue with his hands behind his back. He hurried past the lively stray cat he usually paused to tease, and headed straight for his destination—Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
"Director, do you happen to remember me leaving an item in the care of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor?"
"Hmm? This Director certainly doesn't recall the Consultant ever asking me to look after anything. Except for that stack of bills, of course."
Hu Tao pointed at the mountain of paperwork piled on the desk and chuckled playfully.
Even Zhongli felt a little sheepish; he gave a light cough.
"We can deduct it from my salary."
"In that case, the Consultant will have to work at my Wangsheng Funeral Parlor for the rest of his life~"
"Why ever not?"
Hu Tao waved her hand with a smile, not taking the words to heart. She knew full well that this mighty deity would go wherever he pleased; her humble Wangsheng Funeral Parlor could never trap him here forever.
For a god, a lifetime was far, far too long.
"Oh well, let's not joke around. The Consultant is right—there is no item entrusted directly to me. But there is something entrusted to the very first Director of our Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."
The young girl hopped and skipped into the back room. After a great deal of clattering and clinking, a dusty Hu Tao emerged carrying a large wooden box.
"Here, this is it. When my grandfather handed it to me, he gave me strict instructions to take good care of it."
Seeing that Zhongli didn't mind the dirt at all and directly took the heavy wooden box, using his expensive silk-gloved hands to carefully brush away a shallow layer of fallen dust, Hu Tao asked with curiosity.
"What on earth is inside this thing? Why are you acting so nervous?"
"Didn't the Director ever think to open it and take a look?" Zhongli stared intently at the box, amber eyes brimming with nostalgia.
For that fleeting moment, the young man seemed like an antiquity long sealed away that had just been unboxed. Weathered by the passage of time, his former sharpness dimmed, leaving him to stand alone in the winds of a thousand years later, tightly clutching the memories of the past, utterly out of place in the bustling mortal world.
Hu Tao shook off a wave of ungrounded melancholy and waved her hands repeatedly.
"I wouldn't dare! It's something passed down from our ancestors—if I chipped or damaged it, my grandfather would crawl out of the ground to beat me!"
The Consultant, looking every bit the refined gentleman, was amused by her antics. As the god stepped back into the mortal realm, he reverted once more to the neighborhood's beloved, erudite scholar.
This made Hu Tao let out a sigh of relief.
"It is fine to open it. This old companion of mine is not so easily damaged."
With that, Zhongli opened the box and peeled back the wrapping of silk cloth, revealing the true appearance of the item within.
"Whoa! What a gorgeous bow!" Hu Tao gasped in admiration, leaning over the edge of the desk to inspect it closely.
It was a longbow crafted from black jade. The bow body bore little ornamentation beyond simple engravings and a single red butterfly. It resembled Hu Tao's own fiery butterflies, yet it appeared far more ethereal and bewitching; despite being sculpted from stone, it looked so lifelike that it seemed as though it might flutter its wings and fly away at any second. That flash of red served as the brightest accent on the entire bow.
The most peculiar part was the bowstring. Unlike the silk, animal tendons, or grapevine commonly used for bows, this string emitted a silvery halo in the light, and staring at it for too long induced a sense of vertigo. As for its material, it looked precisely like a strand of long hair.
"Whose bow is this?" Hu Tao asked.
"Someone..." Zhongli paused. He thought carefully for a moment, as if searching for the most precise word.
An enemy? That was a fact, but not an accurate description.
A close friend? He had once imagined that if things had been different, if they had met under other circumstances, perhaps they might have become steadfast companions—much like his old comrades of the past, or perhaps something a bit different. But in the end, it was only fantasy.
Zhongli pondered for a good long while before finally uttering two words.
"An old acquaintance."
Yet how could such complex emotions be summed up in a mere two words?
The Geo Archon sighed softly, his palm sweeping gently through the air just above the bow.
"Sounds like someone very important?"
"No..." Zhongli looked slightly startled and instinctively started to refute, but seeing Hu Tao's mischievous, knowing smile, he turned the question back on her.
"Why would the Director think that?"
"If they weren't important, why would you keep their weapon safe for so long?" Hu Tao puckered her lips. She had heard plenty of stories from the previous Director about how much the Archon valued this box, often keeping it close at hand. Though she hadn't opened it since inheriting her position, that sentiment likely hadn't changed.
"I suppose so."
The Archon smiled, his gaze deep with meaning.