Keqing's gaze swept downward. Tartaglia stood atop the mountain peak directly blocking her path, his whole body surging with fighting spirit as he stared up at her.
Clearly—he had waited here on purpose.
Keqing, of course, already knew of Tartaglia's presence in Liyue.
But…
In the past, she might have treated this Harbinger with extreme caution. Now that she had embarked on the path of cultivation, however…
The Fatui?
A Harbinger?
Nothing but chickens and dogs.
Such was the confidence of a cultivator.
For instance—though Tartaglia's aura now surged so violently it shook loose stones from the mountain…
In Keqing's eyes, he was fragile.
The kind of fragile that would shatter the moment she got even a little serious.
Among the Fatui, the only ones worthy of her attention now were the top three Harbingers, rumored to possess the power of the Archons themselves.
But Mount Shu always protected its disciples. Should any of those top three make a move against her, it wouldn't be long before the Law Enforcement Hall descended to settle accounts.
And the Law Enforcement Hall wasn't merely for disciplining disciples—it also bore the duty of safeguarding them.
Thus, even if Keqing were to stand alone against all of the Fatui, she had nothing to fear.
Her sect cared for its own. Not only that—it was tradition to punish the master if the disciple was harmed.
It wouldn't even take Jiang Yan's intervention. Just Zhongli and Alice, as they were now, could sweep across Teyvat unchecked.
Still, Tartaglia's sudden move, and the Fatui's recent restlessness, stirred a spark of curiosity in Keqing.
So, rather than anger at his challenge, she found it… amusing.
Like a child too young to know the heights of heaven and depths of earth, declaring war on a seasoned warrior.
That was her mindset now.
"Fatui Harbinger, Childe… I've heard of you."
Hearing that clear, almost too youthful voice, Tartaglia frowned slightly. Something about it felt off.
Yet the bone-chilling aura flowing from her confirmed it—this was the Liyue Sword Immortal he sought.
He lifted his head, grinning.
"Then it is truly my honor."
Keqing looked down on him with calm, impassive eyes. The sun blazed behind her, blinding Tartaglia so he could not see her face clearly.
"You block my way—merely to fight me?"
"I humbly beg the immortal for a duel!" Tartaglia's voice rang out, solemn and fervent.
Keqing chuckled soundlessly, her gaze faintly mocking.
"Just you, alone? Bold indeed. And if I were to kill you with a flick of my hand—what then?"
Tartaglia bared his teeth in a grin.
"Then so be it. I, Tartaglia, fear not death—only the lack of a battle worth dying for."
Keqing glanced toward distant Jueyun Karst. She had no patience to waste on childish games.
"I have matters to attend to. I'll grant you one sword strike. Survive it, and you may leave. Fail—and be buried here."
Hearing this, Tartaglia laughed in exhilaration.
"Then let me witness the sword that can slay me in a single strike!"
Keqing made no reply. She only raised her hand, forming her fingers into a sword seal.
Such a simple gesture—yet Tartaglia's pupils constricted sharply.
Every cell in his body screamed in terror, urging him to turn and flee at once.
"No chance of survival at all…?"
Cold sweat poured down his brow, his legs nearly buckling under the crushing aura.
Yet he only gritted his teeth harder, forcing a crooked smile.
"Good…! This is what I live for—the thrill of the impossible!"
"Demon King's Armament!"
Purple lightning crashed down, enveloping Tartaglia's form.
Without a moment's hesitation, he pushed his strength to its absolute limit. In that life-and-death crisis, he even felt himself break through a barrier.
Yet there was no joy in his heart.
The sense of death pressing down on him from Keqing was too overwhelming.
The last time he had felt this way… was when he fell into the Abyss, staring into that enormous, unblinking eye.
That primal fear, clawing from his chest, fighting against his instincts—
It was the feeling he hated most.
Once before, it had made him drop his weapon in despair. No one had called him a coward—few even knew of that incident—and even if they had, against such an opponent, retreat would have been natural.
But to Tartaglia, it was a mark of shame.
And he would never suffer such shame a second time.
Keqing regarded him silently. She hadn't expected that, even under the crushing weight of her sword intent and divine sense, Tartaglia could still raise his weapon.
That alone earned him a sliver of acknowledgment.
Yes, cultivators were mighty. But the world was vast, and madmen who threw aside life and death for battle… deserved a glance.
Only a glance, nothing more.
Behind Keqing, a sword-shadow began to form. No elemental energy coursed through it.
Tartaglia's eyes widened.
In Teyvat, even the Seven Archons wielded elemental power.
Yet this immortal's strength… held not the faintest trace of it.
Instead, it was something higher.
And it bore down on him like the weight of heaven and earth.
Impossible!
Madness!
He dared not hold back. He was just about to strike first when—
His face twisted in despair.
All his gathered power surged forth, manifesting as a colossal whale of the starry sea circling protectively around him.
And above—
The single sword-shadow behind Keqing's back split in two. Then split again.
And again.
Exponentially, like an explosion of creation.
In the blink of an eye, the entire sky behind her was filled with countless translucent blades.
Each one radiated lethal intent strong enough to make Tartaglia's very bones creak under pressure.
His heart sank in bitterness.
She said one sword.
Was this what she called one sword? Nearly ten thousand blades hanging in the heavens?!
Could an immortal really play such dirty tricks?!
Before he could even curse aloud, Keqing pointed lightly toward him.
The swarm of sword-shadows tore through the air, descending in a storm.
The very sky split apart under their passage, clouds blown aside by the force of the sword winds.
From afar, it looked as if a vast scar had been carved across the heavens.
The swords had not yet struck, but already Tartaglia's body cracked and groaned as if crushed under a mountain.
Then—the first sword pierced his sea-whale barrier as though it were paper.
And the storm followed.
Engulfed by endless blades, Tartaglia's defenses melted away.
Elemental shields, protective arts—none of it mattered. Against that strange power, they vanished like snow against magma.
Agonizing pain lanced through his body, holes opening everywhere until he resembled little more than a perforated husk.
Soon even the pain dulled, fading into numbness.
At last, the final blade drove through his chest.
Tartaglia collapsed to the ground.
The mountain peak beneath him—its summit was sheared clean off by the storm of swords.
Looking down at his battered, dying form, Keqing shook her head.
"The Sword Riding Art is still far from complete. I can only barely summon heaven and earth's qi into sword-shadows. If it were the sect master… all blades within a thousand li would answer the call, merging into a true Celestial Sword."
As for Tartaglia's wretched state, she spared him only a glance before dismissing him.
He had provoked her. She had responded with a casual sword. That was all.
She had left him a thread of life. It wasn't her fault he couldn't withstand it.
Besides, he still breathed.
Even if the Fatui complained, she wouldn't care.
Had she truly intended to kill him, she would have used the Heavenly Gang Sword with her Frostblade. Then—if he didn't split cleanly in half—it would only mean her swordsmanship was lacking.
Tartaglia was strong. But his power was not his own.
With just his Vision, he might reach the strength of a mid-level abyssal creature. With the Delusion and Demon King's Armament layered atop… he might match the high ranks.
By Teyvat's standards, formidable indeed.
But cultivators pursued solid foundations.
In Keqing's eyes, Tartaglia's borrowed power was nothing but hollow fluff.
Casting him one last look, his aura growing ever weaker, she shook her head and streaked away toward Jueyun Karst in a trail of sword-light.
To her, this had been no battle at all. Merely a small diversion on her journey.
Her true test awaited tomorrow—in the Nine Nether Secret Realm.
But Keqing did not see—
That as Tartaglia's breath nearly faded away, another force stirred within him.
Not elemental. Not even fully of Teyvat.
Slowly, impossibly, his ravaged body began to knit itself together. His aura no longer waned, but steadied, even faintly recovering.
With effort, he pried his eyes open—catching only the fleeting back of the immortal as she vanished into the sky.
What stood out most was the cascade of violet hair, bound up like cat ears.
"A purple… cat-eared immortal? I've never heard of such a one in Liyue…"
"Could it be—was she the cause of that great disturbance the other day?"
"No… her power is terrifying, yes. But that seemed even greater still…"
He had no time to ponder further. Looking down at his body—still riddled with sword marks, though far less gaping than before—he realized just how narrowly he'd survived.
Even raising a hand was impossible; only his eyes still moved.
It had to be because she'd held back.
From the very start, he had felt no killing intent. She had simply brushed him aside.
Dismissed.
Was this… contempt?
Tartaglia gave a bitter laugh, staring up at the sky.
Too arrogant. Far too arrogant.
Were it not for the combined power of the Cryo Archon and his master infused within him, he would surely be dead.
But that strength could only save him once.
Next time, should such a clash occur—he would not return.
He did not fear death.
But he refused a death so… pitiful.
He had sought a glorious battle. Instead, she had swatted him away like an insect.
If he were to die like this—it would be the greatest loss of all.
Time passed. At last, a squad of debt collectors hurried up the peak.
At the sight of their master's mangled form, they turned pale with horror.
"Lord Childe!"
If anything befell him in Liyue, their lives would not be spared either.
"...I'll live," Tartaglia rasped weakly. Then, after a pause, he muttered:
"Back to Liyue Harbor. And keep it quiet."
"Yes, sir!"
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