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

After Ying finished eating, she finally put down the wooden stick in her hand. She wrapped the remaining pieces of meat in a large leaf, stuffed it into the side pocket of her backpack, and then began to rummage through her own pockets.

Ying rummaged in her left pocket for a while and pulled out a handful of shiny stones—irregularly shaped, some slightly prismatic, some nearly square, each with an edge that had the uniform luster of time, a luster only found in raw stones.

Ying arranged the stones in a row on the ground in front of him, then took out a few Mora from his right pocket and placed them next to the stones.

Ying pushed the stone and Mora toward Fanes and said something.

Xiao Hei squatted between the two, and after listening, turned to look at Fanes: "She said this can be used as money for food."

Fanes looked down at the row of rough stones on the ground, and then at the few Mora.

Fanes reached out and gathered the few raw stones onto the grass in front of him, then picked up Mora one by one and placed them back into Ying's hands.

"Mora, you keep these. I'll take these stones as payment for this meal. Keep the rest safe; you might need them on the road."

Ying looked down at the few Mora coins that had been pushed back, then at Fanes, seemingly puzzled that he had returned most of the "meal money." She then spoke.

After listening to what was said, Xiao Hei, who was squatting between the two, translated: "She said thank you."

Fanes placed the rough stones into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled the drawstring. After pulling the drawstring, he didn't immediately pull his hand back; his gaze lingered on Ying for a moment.

Ying looked down at the wooden stick in her hand. The firelight illuminated her profile, making her ash-covered cheeks and disheveled hair stand out clearly.

The dark cloak was frayed at the edges, and the hem was covered with dry mud and grass clippings, with small, withered leaves clinging to it in several places.

Ying's hair had clearly not been properly combed in a long time. A few strands clung to the side of her face, falling along the curve of her neck to her collar. The edges of her collar were worn white, and the stitching at the corners had loosened in several places, revealing an even older layer of fabric underneath.

The boot laces were tied crookedly, and a small piece of frayed leather was sticking out from the edge of one boot. She was looking down, wiping the last bit of sauce off the meat skewers with her fingertips, completely unaware of Fanes's gaze.

Without making a sound, Fanes pulled the terminal panel from his pocket. He didn't turn on the sound, but simply pointed the camera at Ying. The image on the screen was almost too clear—firelight, ash, disheveled hair, sauce-stained lips, and the cloak whose original color was no longer discernible.

Fanes chose a suitable angle, ensuring the frame simultaneously captured her face, the edge of her tattered cloak, and the half-eaten skewer of meat beside her, before pressing the shutter button. The image froze. Ying was tilting her head, biting off the last bits of meat from the skewer, the gray mark on her cheek particularly noticeable in the shot.

Fanes looked at the photo on the screen, a slight smile playing on his lips. He exited the camera app, created a new folder named "Traveler's Embarrassing History," and saved the photo inside.

The folder currently contains only one photo, but he has a premonition that its value will gradually become apparent in the future. For example, one day in the future, when Ying stands in the square of Mondstadt, surrounded by a group of admirers...

Fanes could easily send this photo to a newspaper with the caption: "Savior of the Wind Dragons, Honorary Knight of the Knights of Favonius, Hero of Mondstadt—guess she once ate half-cooked meat skewered on a twig in the wild?"

Fanes put the terminal panel back into his pocket, very quietly, without making a sound.

Ying was still gnawing on her meat skewer, completely unaware that she had just been photographed and how much trouble that photo would cause her in the future. Little Milkman sat across the fire, still clutching his notebook, but his pen had stopped on the paper.

Little Milk looked at Ying, then glanced down at his observation notes, which he had written, before closing the notebook and putting it in the side pocket of his backpack. "She doesn't have any characteristics related to the Descendants."

Fanes turned to look at him: "So what did you originally think the Descendants should be like?"

The little girl tightened the backpack strap: "At the very least, she should possess some characteristics beyond the scope of ordinary living beings—the ability to actively sense the flow of elemental forces, or a natural affinity for the earth's ley line energy field. Currently, all she shows is that she looks for food when she's hungry, finds a place to sleep when she's tired, and fights back when she encounters danger—these are instinctive reactions that all living beings have."

The little milk tablet paused for a moment, "My filter has been shattered. She doesn't look like an Arrival, more like a wanderer who has lived in the wild for a long time and just happens to know how to fight."

Looking at his expression that said, "I've been waiting for this for so long, and this is what I get," Fanes thought for a moment and said, "Aren't you going to collect samples?"

The little girl had already lay down, folding her coat and placing it behind her head: "I'm not taking any more samples. Her condition doesn't fit my definition of an Adventist. Collecting samples now wouldn't be of any use."

Fanes lay down as well, pulling the hem of his coat to cover his waist and abdomen. He rolled over, then rolled back over, adjusted his position, then took out the terminal panel, quickly glanced at the photo, checked its clarity and composition, put it away with satisfaction, covered himself with the blanket, and closed his eyes.

Ying sat opposite the fire, still in the same position. The firewood in the fire was burning slowly, and occasionally a piece of burning wood would fall into the embers, splashing a few sparks, which were quickly covered by ashes.

Ying used a stick to stir the ash around the edge of the fire, keeping the flames burning at a level that wouldn't go out too quickly, and then she stopped.

Ying's gaze fell on the firelight before her, then across it to the darkness further away, and then she spoke. Her voice was neither loud nor soft, carrying a tone that Fanes had never heard before, as if she were talking to herself, or perhaps to someone else.

The words drifted in the night wind, carried upwards by the heat of the campfire, lingered for a while beneath the treetops, and then were carried away by the evening breeze.

Fanes didn't open his eyes. But he turned over, facing Xiao Hei, and asked in a low voice, "Xiao Hei, what is she saying?"

Little Blackie nestled beside him, eyes half-closed, tail draped over the back of his hand: "I don't know either. I haven't studied any foreign languages. She's probably thinking about something."

Fanes paused for a moment: "Then how did you know what she was saying beforehand?"

Xiao Hei kept his eyes closed: "It's very simple. Treat her like your pet. Don't pay attention to what she says, but observe what she does and what she's trying to express. For example, when she put her hand into her pocket just now, her movements were slow, as if she was confirming that those things were still there. Then, when she placed those rough stones and Mora in front of you, she first arranged the rough stones neatly, and then went to arrange the order of the Mora—this shows that she has been out on her own for some time and has already formed her own set of storage habits and trading methods."

Fanes was silent for a moment, as if using that pause to process the information he had just received. Then he turned his head and looked at Little Black in the darkness: "Your intelligence is truly remarkable. You're definitely smarter than a Border Collie."

The firewood in the fire made a soft cracking sound, and a few sparks leaped from the embers, rose a short distance, and then went out in mid-air.

Ying sat opposite the fire, holding the blunt sword in her hand, her gaze fixed on the slowly dying embers. She remained in the same posture as before, like a sculpture waiting for the dawn, using the length of the entire night as her unit of time.