Genshin Impact: Watch me turn the tables and kill my servants at the start!

The plan three days ago was simple: find the traveler, confirm her condition, and then decide how to make contact next.

Three days later, the reality was this: Fanes and Little Milk Slice crouched behind a high bush on the edge of Whispering Woods, about fifty paces away, watching a blond "savage" rummage through the remains of a Hilichurl camp.

The camp wasn't big; it used to house about five or six Hilichurls, but now only three overturned tents and a campfire that hadn't gone out were left.

A girl with short blonde hair was squatting by the campfire, rummaging through an overturned wooden box and pulling out a piece of dry, hard bread. She held it up to look at it, then put it back. She then took out a rusty dagger from another box, weighed it in her hand, seemed dissatisfied, and threw it back.

Ying wore a dark travel cloak, the edges of which were worn white and covered with dried mud stains. Her hair, which should have been neat, was now a mess after days of travel and neglect, with a few strands sticking to the sides of her face.

The boots were covered in dry mud and grass clippings, the laces were tied crookedly, and the way he walked carried the weariness unique to long treks in the wild, yet he maintained a certain alertness, as if he were ready to deal with any unexpected events at any time.

The little girl crouched in the bushes next to Fanes, peering through the leaves at the figure rummaging through drawers and cabinets. She whispered, "She's the 'Descendant' you were talking about? Are you sure she's not some savage from a fairy tale?"

Fanes squatted down beside him, also looking in that direction: "Have some understanding. Look at her condition, she's probably been out in the wild for at least a month. If nothing unexpected happens, she probably hasn't showered in a month. And she has to maintain a high level of physical activity every day—traveling, fighting, finding food, and dodging monsters—she's probably pickled to the bone by now."

The little girl shifted her position slightly behind the bushes, her gaze still fixed on Ying: "So how did she survive?"

Fanes said, "They'll probably rely on rummaging through the Hilichurl camp's supplies and gathering wild berries. Look at how she was rummaging through things just now; she's clearly become quite skilled—searching through chests, checking, assessing value, deciding whether to take it or not, all in one smooth motion. This is definitely not the first time she's done this."

The little milk tablet fell silent, his gaze still fixed on Ying, as if using that silhouette to estimate her range of movement and speed, confirming that her condition met the observation conditions he had set in advance.

The bushes obscured most of the view, but through the gaps in the branches and leaves, one could still see the campfire in the center of the camp smoking, the flames almost going out.

Ying rummaged through the items for a while longer, then rolled up a piece of leather armor that looked usable and stuffed it into her backpack. She then stood up and looked around the camp, as if to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

After Ying finished her inspection, she turned and took a step toward the camp exit. Just then, the bushes at the camp entrance suddenly parted.

Three Hilichurls who had gone out hunting returned carrying several rabbits and some berries. When they saw the blond figure rummaging through boxes and cabinets in the center of the camp, they stopped in their tracks.

The leader of the Hilichurls threw the rabbit he was carrying onto the ground, pulled out a thick wooden stick from behind his back, and let out a low, angry roar.

Ying turned around the instant she heard the voice. Her movements were much faster than Fanes had imagined—the moment she saw the person approaching, her body had already turned, and her right hand had simultaneously reached for the hilt of her sword at her waist.

The sword looked unremarkable; there were no signs of sharpening on the blade, and the edges were rounded, as if it had been repeatedly polished.

When Ying drew her bladeless sword, her movements carried a certainty refined by countless battles. The Hilichurl had already charged at her, swinging its club, aiming a powerful blow at her head with a whooshing sound.

Ying dodged the wooden stick to the side, and in the instant the opponent shifted their weight forward, she took a step forward, and the blunt sword, following a straight trajectory, precisely struck the Hilichurl's wrist holding the stick.

The sword was worn by time, but the force of the blow still made the hand loosen its grip on the stick. Then she used the end of the hilt to push the other person's chest, sending him back two steps and crashing into two other Hilichurls behind him. The three of them fell together into the embers of the campfire.

Ying did not give chase. She stood beside the ashes of the camp, holding the sword, and looked down at a tiny scratch on the blade, as if deciding whether it was worth the time to pinpoint its location based on the trajectory of the light and shadow. Then she sheathed it.

Behind the bushes, Little Milkman had already put down his binoculars. He looked at the figure who was putting away the sword, and his tone was more serious than before.

"Impressive combat ability. Physical attributes certainly befit the status of a Descendant. No unnecessary movements, and the sword's path is also very concise. Completing reactions and judgments in such a short time cannot be achieved through training alone; it also requires a certain level of combat intuition and practical experience."

Fanes also looked in that direction: "So, do you still think she's a savage?"

The little girl withdrew her gaze from behind the bushes and began organizing the notes in the notebook in front of her: "There is a clear discrepancy between her appearance and combat abilities. However, this alone is not enough to determine whether she is the Descendant you are looking for."

Fanes watched as Ying bent down to pick up a fallen stick, placed it at her feet, then walked to another tent, kicked aside a bundle of firewood, and continued rummaging through the remaining supplies: "That's her."

As Ying straightened up again, she glanced sideways at the bushes. Her gaze went past the swaying branches, as if checking for any discrepancies between the direction and the traces of the wind.

But Ying didn't come over; she simply looked away and continued searching for the next wooden box.