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

By the time Fanes returned along the dirt road leading to the temporary base, night had completely fallen. The nights on the Nata border were different from the dry, cold nights of late winter; they carried a damp coolness, a scent of grass, trees, and earth that soothed the nose.

Fanes had assumed that by this time, the base would be quiet. The soldiers on night duty should be at their posts, and most of the lights in the tents should be off, with perhaps a few still lit for the patrols.

Then Fanes heard the music from a great distance. The sound pierced through the night wind and bushes, carrying a continuously releasing impact, as if someone were playing a very rhythmic piece at full volume, the frequency of the drumbeats and the direction of the melody constantly surging in the air.

Fanes slowed his pace and stood by the low fence surrounding the base, peering through the gaps. In the center of the base, in an open area usually used for queuing and storing supplies, several portable lights were hung on temporary crossbars, illuminating the entire area as bright as day.

Several people were gathered around a loudspeaker playing music; some were holding cups, others were swaying to the rhythm. A few others sat nearby, placing skewers of meat on the grill; the sound of grease dripping onto the charcoal fire mingled with the music, spreading in the night breeze through the gaps between the tents.

Fanes stood outside the fence for a moment, then pushed open the gate and went inside. The music was still playing as he walked through the passageway between the tents into the center of the party.

Some people were swaying to the rhythm next to the speaker, while others were clinking glasses with the people next to them.

The soldier closest to Fanes was drinking from his cup when he caught a figure approaching out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, then his cup abruptly stopped, the liquid swirling around the rim, almost spilling. The soldier straightened up and placed the cup on the nearby box. "Sir! We're assembled—"

Fanes raised his hand to press down: "It's not easy for anyone when they're out and about. It's not bad to relax once in a while."

The soldier remained standing upright: "But sir, we are on night duty and on standby. According to regulations, this kind of recreational activity is not allowed in this situation..."

Fanes said, "This is a special permission today. You may continue."

After speaking, Fanes turned and took a few steps toward the tent, then suddenly seemed to remember something, stopped, turned his head, and asked, "Shouldn't you have arranged for someone to stand guard?"

The party organizer had somehow squeezed through the crowd. He looked young, but his expression suggested he'd just experienced a heart-pounding confirmation: "It's all arranged, sir."

Four full-strength squads patrolled the outer perimeter of the base in rotation, with eight people in each squad, covering the main passages and high points in the four directions of east, west, south, and north, and changing shifts every hour.

The base's supply depots and ammunition depots are also manned by both visible and concealed sentry posts. Several mobile sentry teams are patrolling the tent area in shifts, each equipped with at least one communication terminal to ensure real-time contact with command when needed.

Fanes nodded: "That's good. By the way, give each of those patrolmen an extra month's bonus. Just fill in my name when you do it."

The party organizer stood up straight and saluted him: "Thank you, sir!"

Fanes said nothing more and continued walking along the passage between the tents deeper into the camp.

The tent area was quieter than the open ground. The music had become much softer after passing through several layers of tent fabric, leaving only a layer of continuous, weakening low-frequency vibrations traveling along the ground.

As Fanes was about to turn into his tent, he noticed several people gathered around a row of folding tables not far ahead, looking down and examining several baskets of fresh vegetables and meat. Next to them were several unopened food boxes, the bindings on the lids still attached, as if they had just been delivered.

Orlan was standing next to one of the boxes, sorting bundles of fresh vegetables and placing them in their designated spots. He was wearing a clean short-sleeved shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms, and he was taking a bundle of vegetables out of the box and putting it into an empty basket next to him.

A local Nata supplier was standing next to him, checking the freshness of another basket of meat. He looked up and saw Orlan, smiled, and said, "Orlan, what brings you here to deliver groceries today? Shouldn't you be at home helping your grandma with the fields?"

O'Loren didn't stop what he was doing. He looked up and said in a steady tone, "Grandma said there's an event at the base today, so she asked me to bring some fresh vegetables. She said the soldiers here don't usually get to eat fresh leafy greens, and since the vegetables in our garden are growing well, she picked a lot to bring over."

The supplier patted him on the shoulder: "Your grandma is really thoughtful."

Orlan nodded without saying anything more and continued to sort through the next bundle of vegetables.

An older soldier nearby was stacking potatoes into another basket. Hearing the conversation, he turned and glanced at Orlan: "Young man, how old are you?"

Orlan raised his head and looked at him seriously: "Seventeen."

Orlan thought for a moment: "Then you must be much older than me."

The soldier chuckled, "Of course. If you don't mind, you can just call me uncle."

Orlan stood there, his face serious as if he were confirming information: "Uncle."

The soldier nodded, put another potato in the basket, and said nothing more.

Fanes stood in the shadow of a nearby tent, watching this scene. He noticed that the local suppliers in Nata were generally quite friendly towards Orloren; no one treated him poorly or gave him a hard time just because he was young.

When the soldiers of the Fools faced him, they mostly maintained a just-right level of politeness—neither appearing distant nor overly enthusiastic, but rather treating this seemingly naive young man in a way that they themselves were not entirely sure of.

Fanes thought about it and roughly understood the reason behind it: when the locals of Nata interacted with Euron, they were basically all at least a generation older than him, and it was normal for him to call them uncle or aunt.

Most people would be tolerant and caring towards a young person who is so much younger than them yet so earnest and sensible. The soldiers stationed there during winter were mostly veterans who had followed their captain, accustomed to dealing with people in a tough and composed manner; naturally, they wouldn't have any ulterior motives towards such a person.

Fanes emerged from the shadows of the tent, walked to the folding table, and looked at the baskets of fresh vegetables being packaged: "Did your grandmother... teach you to grow these vegetables?"

When Orlan heard his voice, he looked up, paused for a moment when he saw him, and then said, "You're the one who passed by the vegetable garden that night."

Fanes said, "Yes. It's me."

Orlan nodded, as if he were reconfirming the accuracy of that memory in his own way: "Grandma said if I run into you on the road, please give her my regards."

Fanes said, "Then please thank her for me."

Euron said, "Okay."

Orlan put the last bunch of greens into the basket, straightened up, patted the mud off his hands, and then looked around as if to make sure he had finished what he needed to do: "I'll go back now. I still need to help Grandma turn the soil tomorrow morning."

As he turned around, the soldier who was stacking potatoes spoke again: "Young man, be careful on the road. It's dark and the road is difficult to walk on."

Orlan had already taken a few steps without turning back when his voice came from ahead: "Thank you, Uncle."