These hilichurls, who had clearly lived in the snowy mountains for quite some time, didn't seem the least bit afraid of the cold. Aside from a few pieces of cloth covering essential parts, they didn't bother with clothes for warmth.
Jiang Bai crouched behind a boulder, watching them—some dancing, some sleeping, some building snowmen—and couldn't help growing curious.
If these white-furred hilichurls aren't afraid of the cold, would they be uncomfortable in a hot climate? Or... are they just immune to temperature altogether?
He quickly pushed the idle curiosity aside. Now's not the time to be researching hilichurlian resistance to heat and cold.
Their perception wasn't particularly sharp. Jiang Bai rolled his wrists, summoned the Debate Club, and charged toward the group blocking his path.
It wasn't that he wanted to pick on them—but they were in the way. If he wanted to move forward, he'd have to send them on their way... to the afterlife.
The hilichurl shaman continued dancing around the fire, completely unaware of the approaching threat. The others were absorbed in their own activities, none of them noticing Jiang Bai until he was already upon them.
By the time they fumbled for weapons in panic, their shaman was already dead.
Jiang Bai didn't discriminate. With one clean strike per hilichurl, he sent each of them off to meet their maker.
May there be no Jiang Bai in their heaven. Amen.
After clearing the camp with ease, he felt refreshed. But as he looked at the hilichurls lying on the ground, that earlier curiosity crept back into his mind.
What do they look like under those masks?
He crouched beside a fallen hilichurl and lifted its mask, intrigued.
The mask had been in place for so long it had practically fused with the skin, and prying it off took some effort.
Beneath was a face that resembled no human. Its skin was a purplish blue, covered in bizarre markings and a fine layer of dense, short fuzz that instantly sent shivers crawling across Jiang Bai's skin.
Its eyes were at least in the right place, but solid black and soulless, with no whites at all—eerily uncanny.
The nose was small and pig-like, and the mouth sat just below where the mask had covered, positioned in such a way that it wouldn't interfere with eating.
All in all, the kind of face that would make a child cry on sight.
Is that why they wear masks? Even they find their own faces terrifying?
Thinking back, every hilichurl he'd seen—whether in Liyue or here on the mountain, whether large or small, shaman or grunt—wore a mask.
Could this be a racial trait?
Something rooted in their bloodline? Or maybe a form of collective behavior—tribal instinct?
Jiang Bai picked up one of the crossbows they'd used. Though it looked crude, its internal components were surprisingly precise—crafted with enough simplicity that even a child could figure out how to use it right away.
"These things were made by hilichurls?"
There were clear signs of smithing: pressed steel parts formed through lathework—standardized components that looked like they'd come straight out of a human factory.
So why do hilichurls have them?
And not just here—he'd seen hilichurls in the mountains of Liyue use similar weapons. Some even fired arrows imbued with elemental energy. Accuracy wasn't great, but still enough to be a hassle in a fight.
Surely this can't be another tribal instinct.
Setting the crossbow down, Jiang Bai slipped into their camp.
It was a small one—just a few pieces of cloth tied between tree branches and rocks for shelter from the wind and snow. A couple of rough wooden crates sat scattered around. Jiang Bai smashed one open and found strips of dried meat, vegetables, and Sunsettia fruit inside.
Clearly, this was how they stored food.
In the middle of the camp, a small firepit had been set up. Two sticks held up a pot—clearly stolen from some unlucky adventurer.
Jiang Bai lifted the lid. Inside were two chunks of meat and a couple of carrots. They looked like they'd been washed—still fairly clean, no visible dirt. But the cook hadn't bothered cutting them up—just tossed them into the pot and boiled them. Flavor and texture clearly weren't a concern.
From all of this, it was obvious the hilichurls weren't very intelligent. Their thinking stayed on the most primitive, surface level.
And yet... where did these simple-minded creatures get crossbows? Who taught them to use them?
Could there be some hidden force behind the scenes—supplying and training these monsters?
As he considered this, Jiang Bai pulled his coat tighter.
According to Hu Tao, hilichurls could be found across the entire continent of Teyvat—ubiquitous. Always present.
So what did it mean, if there really was an unknown faction secretly arming and instructing them? With no clear purpose?
What if that group gathered all the hilichurls together one day... and made a move?
The mere image of that was enough to send a chill through Jiang Bai's spine.
He dug a deep pit and buried the corpses of the hilichurls—a final resting place, however humble.
Cremation would've been better, but he didn't have the means for that out here. Burying them was at least enough to keep the bodies from being taken and used for sacrificial rituals or alchemical abominations.
There was no telling what unspeakable things someone might do with a monster's corpse.
As a man of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Jiang Bai knew well: be it the body of man or monster, it was best to ensure it was properly handled.
Once he was done, he found a leyline anchor on a large stone nearby.
Another node activated.
He followed the path further along, until the road suddenly stopped.
A once-grand mountain structure had collapsed here, leaving only massive stone pillars and a section of wall behind. Between one of these pillars and the remaining wall, someone had carved out a narrow gap—just wide enough for a single person to pass through.
Beyond it was darkness. The wind howled inside like a voice from the abyss, making it hard to step forward.
Smooth stone walls surrounded the gap, slick with snow and ice. Jiang Bai tried climbing up, but there was no foothold.
With no other way around, he had no choice but to light a torch, crouch low, and squeeze through—hoping the path inside would lead him further up the mountain.
The narrow passage wound through fallen ruins, barely letting him through at first. But gradually, the space opened up.
He stepped into a wide chamber—at its center, a massive circular ice pool. The surface was frozen solid. Looking up, he saw that above it was a circular structure as well.
Maybe this was once a fishing pool... or a sacrificial site.
Jiang Bai picked up a rock and hurled it at the ice. The thick layer cracked with a sharp snap.
He broke away some of the shattered ice and threw another stone in.
A long moment passed... and then came the faint sound of it hitting the bottom.
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T/N: errrr yes hi im back >.>
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