Mondstadt's plaza thrummed with the fervor of a city gripped by Ye Ruo's latest tale, the third volume of Pupils of the Gu King igniting hearts as dawn broke over its wind-swept stones.
Ye Ruo had been the intended architect of this literary blaze, his words meant to resurrect Old Mond's struggle and etch freedom's price into the souls of its readers.
Yet Amos, the sharpshooting huntress of the rebellion, emerged as the unexpected beacon of the story, her arrows piercing both tyrant and reader alike with a fierce, unyielding light.
Her resolve—forged in the crucible of war, a mirror to Mondstadt's enduring spirit—wavered as the battle's toll unveiled a shadow that even victory could not erase.
The city buzzed with life, its cobblestone streets slick with morning mist, the air rich with the scent of warm bread and the faint tang of dandelion wine.
Bookstores stood proud—[Wind and Bird] branches gleamed, their wooden signs swaying gently, lanterns casting a golden haze over swelling crowds.
Readers thronged—lines coiled like serpents, mora clinked as clerks raced to keep pace with the demand.
Signed editions vanished—hardcovers and collector's sets, brimming with wine and noodles, became prized relics.
"Gone—already?" a merchant groaned, crate empty.
A boy perched on a fountain—pages turned, eyes wide.
"Real—too real," he whispered, voice trembling.
Ye Ruo lingered—wind tugged his cloak, unseen.
His Anemo Vision pulsed—city's heartbeat synced.
"Legends—shaking still," he murmured, gaze distant.
The system chimed in his mind—panel flared.
He grinned—readers' gains fueled his fire.
[Customer Eula completed Old Mond: Frostwind Saga—Reward: Cryoblade Shroud.]
[Cryoblade Shroud: Enwraps the user in a chilling Cryo veil, slashing with icy precision; summons frost shards to pierce or shield; can unleash a glacial wave, sharp as vengeance.]
Eula with ice—grudge sharpened.
Pages unfurled—Old Mond burned, alive, fierce.
Flags snapped—rebels charged, storm roared.
Explosions bloomed—heat seared, earth quaked.
"Freedom—ours!" a rebel bellowed, spear raised.
Tyrant's men reeled—axes swung, caught off-guard.
Blood sprayed—flags reddened, advance pressed.
Lords woke—fat, panicked, beds abandoned.
"Counter—now!" a captain shrieked, sword waved.
War raged—cruel, raw, lives bled out.
Gale King's arms gleamed—ore-forged, deadly.
Rebels fell—steel bit, hope teetered.
"More—join!" a woman roared, axe seized.
Numb souls stirred—hatred flared, ranks swelled.
"Will—unbroken!" a smith shouted, hammer swung.
Soldiers quaked—fear gnawed, morale cracked.
Lackeys frenzied—lords barked, blades flashed.
"Crush—mob!" a noble screamed, eyes wild.
Gale King loomed—storm howled, god's might.
"Fools—die!" a guard taunted, spear thrust.
Wind fueled fire—flames devoured, city blazed.
Houses crumbled—ruins rose, dust choked.
Rebels fought—corpses piled, resolve held.
Amos stood—bow taut, arrows sang.
"Fall—tyrants!" she hissed, shot pierced.
Commanders dropped—her team surged, fierce.
Lagenfind roared—greatsword cleaved, blood flowed.
"Break—lines!" he bellowed, foes shattered.
Gurnhild charged—wind blessed, sword gleamed.
"Freedom—now!" she cried, defenses tore.
A boy grinned—nameless, bow danced.
Wind elf soared—cyan light flared, power grew.
"Together—end it!" he vowed, gusts lashed.
Tornado loomed—Gale King, storm incarnate.
Arrows clashed—wind met wind, chaos reigned.
A twist struck—Lagenfind fell, spear impaled.
"No—hold!" Amos yelled, voice cracked.
Blood pooled—smile faded, sword slipped.
"Sky—free," he gasped, eyes dimmed.
Rebels wailed—wind surged, rage ignited.
Gale King roared—tornado spun, city shook.
"Die—worms!" it thundered, storm swelled.
Amos fired—arrow pierced, storm faltered.
Gurnhild leapt—wind blade slashed, rift bloomed.
Boy charged—elf beside, hope burned.
A subplot stirred—Lady watched, cathedral gleamed.
"Dragon—bait," she purred, Hydro pulsed.
Rosalia shadowed—"Fools—strike," she hissed.
Ye Ruo turned—wind flared, senses sharp.
"Church—now," he barked, streets blurred.
Crowds parted—readers froze, chaos brewed.
Cathedral loomed—spires cut the sky.
Fools crept—nuns screamed, shadows danced.
Lady stood—water gleamed, cruel grace.
"Harp—mine," she sneered, cage bloomed.
Ye Ruo's gale roared—wind shredded, clashed.
Hydro lashed—ice met water, frost spread.
Rosalia struck—spear grazed, blood dripped.
"Light—burns," Lady taunted, dodging swift.
"Shadow—cuts," Rosalia growled, lunging.
Wind broke—cage shattered, harp stood.
"Heart—soon," Lady vowed, water splashed.
She vanished—echoes lingered, threat alive.
Ye Ruo panted—"Close—damn," he cursed.
Rosalia's gaze softened—"Saved—still," she murmured.
Mondstadt sighed—dragon slept, Fools stalled.
Readers wept—Lagenfind's end sank deep.
"Legends—bleed," a girl sobbed, book clutched.
"Old Mond—shakes," a man rasped, awed.
Ye Ruo's tale spun—freedom's cost carved raw.
The system pulsed—fame a rising tempest.
His legacy grew—Teyvat's echoes rang wild.
***
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