Chapter Text
“Ah, gather 'round, my friends! Let me tell you a tale of ancient Liyue—a time when our land quaked beneath the shadows of gods and monsters alike,” Iron Tongue Tian began, his voice rich with gravitas as he gestured to the rapt audience.
“In those distant days, Liyue was beset by calamity, its skies darkened by the fury of two titans. The first, a serpentine terror known as Ipos, the God of Massacres, was no mere beast but a storm incarnate. With a sweep of her wrath, forests would wither, the air itself turning to venom. Thousands fell to her unrelenting might, their cries swallowed by the chaos she wrought. If Osial was a threat, Ipos was a tempest that consumed the very heart of Liyue, her power so great that even the most revered of gods dared not tread near her stronghold in Chenyu Vale.
"Imagine, if you will, a world where she had triumphed. They say Liyue would have been reduced to a wasteland, naught but ash and ruin. And atop a mountain of corpses, it would be her serpentine form that claimed the divine throne. Such a thought, chilling as it is, was not far from reality."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial hush, drawing the listeners closer. "But against this living calamity stood a mountain dragon, steadfast and unyielding. Yes, our very own Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon himself! Rallying his adepti, he waged war against the serpent, his every strike a testament to his resolve to protect this land. The battles between them—ah, they shook the heavens and carved the earth! It was said that the very mountains trembled under their fury.”
Tian paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing. “Yet even Rex Lapis, mighty as he was, could not strike her down. No, for Ipos was as cunning as she was cruel. As the war raged on, she was cornered at last, driven to the depths of the Chasm. It is there, they say, that the blood-red trees we see today were born, their roots steeped in the blood she shed in her desperation.
“And what became of her? Ah, therein lies the mystery, my friends. Some say she was defeated, others that she fled to heal her wounds in the endless dark of the Chasm, waiting for the day she might rise again. But one thing is certain: her reign of terror ended not by her choice, but by the will of the Geo Archon, the stalwart shield of Liyue.”
With a dramatic sweep of his arms, Iron Tongue Tian concluded, his voice brimming with pride. “So tonight, as you walk the streets of this blessed harbor, give thanks to Rex Lapis, the mountain dragon who tamed the storm. And should you ever wander near the Chasm, beware the whispers of the serpent—lest her slumber be disturbed.”
The crowd shivered, murmuring among themselves, as Tian’s story settled over them like the mist rolling off the peaks of Jueyun Karst.
The murmuring crowd stilled as the figure's voice sliced through the air, sharp and dripping with disdain. "What utter garbage," you muttered, swirling the golden liquid in your cup before taking a measured sip of osmanthus wine.
Nearby, a group of children turned their curious gazes toward you. One, bolder than the rest, asked, "Garbage? What do you mean, Auntie Y/N?"
You tilted your head slightly, feigning surprise, though the smirk tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. "Hmm? Oh, listen well, children. Adults who spin stories for a living are skilled liars. Lies, after all, make for better tales." You leaned closer, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Be like Auntie. Build an empire of wine instead—far more profitable and far less dramatic."
The children giggled, though their laughter was quickly interrupted by a familiar exasperated sigh. "Auntie Y/N, you’re driving away my customers again," Iron Tongue Tian groaned, rubbing his temples as he stepped forward. His frustration was palpable, and for good reason—you had become the bane of his storytelling ventures as of late.
You turned to him with a casual shrug, clearly unfazed. "Then tell better stories, Tian. If you had a shred of accuracy in your words, perhaps I’d even recommend you to people." You smirked, taking another sip of your wine, your tone sharp yet somehow playful.
Tian’s eyes narrowed. Everyone knew you were no ordinary critic. Your words carried weight, laced with an unnerving certainty that suggested firsthand knowledge. It didn’t help that your husband, the ever-enigmatic funeral consultant, seemed to share the same uncanny knack for historical accuracy. Together, you made for an odd couple, one steeped in mystery, and most had long since learned not to pry too deeply.
"You know, Auntie Y/N," Tian retorted, his voice tight with barely restrained annoyance, "it’s easy to mock from the sidelines. But if you’re so certain my tales are lacking, why don’t you tell one yourself?"
You laughed, low and melodic, and fixed him with a challenging look. "Oh, Tian, you wouldn’t want that. The truth is rarely as entertaining as your flights of fancy." You waved a dismissive hand, already turning back to the children, who were now looking at you with wide-eyed fascination.
"Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Life lessons. Drink wine, build an empire, and never believe everything you hear," you said, raising your cup in a mock toast.
Tian groaned audibly, while the crowd—half intrigued and half bewildered—couldn’t decide whether to laugh or quietly slink away. Such was the chaos you seemed to bring wherever you went, though you, as always, seemed to revel in it.
You were, by now, everyone's "Auntie," though your youthful visage spoke of a life untouched by time. The people of Liyue chalked it up to good fortune—or perhaps just good genes. None dared to pry further.
"Very well," you relented, setting your cup down with deliberate ease. A slow grin spread across your face, sharp and knowing, as if you held the keys to secrets long buried. "You’ve convinced me. Let me tell you the true story of the God of Massacres. One that will make even the strongest piss themselves."
The crowd leaned in, breathless, and thus began the tale.