Everything Tartaglia had just said sounded like pure fantasy to the Cryo Archon and her two companions.
Impossible to truly grasp—yet utterly riveting.
The savagery of the Nine Nether Seven Kings.
Zhongli, carrying a blood feud, determined to avenge his clan.
The endless demonic cultivators of the Xuanyin Minor World.
The terrifying fiends sealed in the Demon-Sealing Tower.
Each revelation cracked open their worldview.
The tales from Liyue's cultivation novels… were here, real, tangible.
Bizarre, terrifying—yet strangely alluring.
After speaking so long, Tartaglia's throat was dry. He sipped tea.
The Cryo Archon sighed softly.
"Mount Shu's grandeur… far beyond what we imagined. If only I could join Mount Shu and see such a sacred land of cultivation with my own eyes."
She paused, then looked sharply at Tartaglia.
"You mentioned… spirit stones?"
At once, Rosalyne and Arlecchino perked up, expectant.
Tartaglia froze, then forced a laugh.
"Uh… well… actually…"
He clutched his pocket protectively.
"…I don't have many."
Heaven bear witness—he'd only scraped together a few hundred low-grade stones. Barely enough for a few days of cultivation!
How could he part with them? Spirit stones were his lifeblood.
The Archon chuckled, shaking her head.
"Look at you. I only wanted to see one. I don't cultivate—I don't need them."
Relieved, Tartaglia sheepishly handed her a single stone.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. Spirit stones are scarce, and for us, absolutely necessary."
She nodded, turning it in her hand.
At once, her eyes went unfocused.
The pure, crystalline energy radiating from the stone… even without cultivating, she knew: absorbing it would surely push her own power further.
For a moment, she didn't want to return it.
Tartaglia coughed nervously.
Snapping back, the Archon sighed and returned it.
"Fine, fine. I was only looking. Here."
Tartaglia clutched it protectively, exhaling with relief.
"Once I venture into the Nine Nether Secret Realm and earn more contribution points, I'll exchange for stones to bring back for you, Your Majesty."
"Nine Nether Secret Realm?"
The Cryo Archon's expression hardened.
"You plan to go there? Nonsense! You're only mid-stage Refining Essence into Qi. Even Morax was gravely wounded there! What business do you have?"
She frowned deeply.
Yes, Tartaglia was frighteningly strong now. She even thought he might exchange a few blows with her at full strength.
But at the end of the day—he was still only mid-stage Refining Essence into Qi.
In the Nine Nether, that was cannon fodder.
The Seven Kings there were all peak Spirit Transformation.
Even Zhongli would die in a single strike.
And Tartaglia dared think he could enter?
"It's Master's decree."
Tartaglia shook his head, gaze firm.
"In one month, the Nine Nether Exploration begins. All disciples must enter."
"There are safeguards left by the ancestors. If we're gravely injured, we'll be ejected immediately."
"Master said: Mount Shu was once leader of the righteous path. Its disciples, walking the world, were unrivaled geniuses. We must forge our own invincible path."
"And I need resources—endless resources. The Nine Nether is my only chance to gather contribution points."
The Cryo Archon pressed her lips together, uneasy.
"But…"
"Your Majesty, trust me."
Tartaglia's eyes shone with conviction.
"I must do this. Whether for that supreme spirit weapon I've set my eyes on… or the God-Sealing List and God-Beating Whip."
"If I bring those back, your entire plan to collect the Gnoses can be abandoned."
Her eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"The List and the Whip were once mass-produced at Windreturn Peak."
His voice dropped low.
"With the List, one can seal gods by national fate. At its peak, it could bind even Spirit Transformation existences."
"Even the dead can be summoned back as national guardian gods. So long as the nation stands, the god remains undying."
"This is how countless cultivation kingdoms governed: with the List."
"If Snezhnaya had three hundred sixty-five guardian gods… would you still need Gnoses?"
Silence.
The Cryo Archon's brows knit tight.
Rosalyne and Arlecchino both cast Tartaglia complicated looks.
They'd thought him selfish, fighting only for himself.
Who knew he harbored such ambition—for the nation itself.
Three hundred sixty-five gods…
Three hundred sixty-five Archon-level beings.
Plus Tartaglia, a cultivator.
The Heavenly Principles?
They could slap them awake with a flick.
The Archon sighed at last.
"You've worked hard. We can't help you with cultivation. You must walk this path yourself. But you're still Snezhnaya's only inner disciple. Your life is more precious than all else."
Tartaglia grinned, nodding.
"I know. I'll be careful. Oh—Zhongli also asked me to bring something for you."
He drew out a glowing, golden object—handing it to her.
A Gnosis.
"Zhongli intends to announce his abdication at this Rite of Descension. He'll devote himself wholly to cultivation. He gave us his Gnosis early, but wants us to fulfill his final contract."
The three stared at the gleaming core, emotions tangled.
Once, they'd have rejoiced.
But now? Compared to Tartaglia's cultivation path… a Gnosis seemed dim.
How strong was a Gnosis?
Nothing beside immortality.
If one could cultivate… what need was there for Gnoses?
The Archon sighed, but still accepted it.
"Tell Morax I understand. Rosalyne will fulfill the last contract. You—focus on cultivation."
Inside, Tartaglia cheered.
He'd just dumped the burden onto them.
What final contract?
Cultivation mattered more!
Having offloaded his chore, he beamed, then tapped the Gnosis.
"Oh, right, Your Majesty—while training sword techniques, I slew many Refining Essence into Qi beasts. I stored their souls in here. About a dozen early-stage beasts, a few demon beasts too. Rare in Teyvat. Use them as you like."
He cast a smug glance at Rosalyne.
Now let's see her call me useless again.
He'd gone to Mount Shu, and instantly brought back priceless resources.
Rosalyne fumed inwardly but held her tongue. She couldn't match his fortune.
"You've done well."
The Archon's tone warmed, and even the dimmed Vision he offered felt valuable.
The resources inside—priceless.
Without a mid-stage cultivator like Tartaglia, they'd never have touched such beasts.
"By the way," Rosalyne suddenly asked, her curiosity pricked.
"When one joins Mount Shu, they're allowed to choose a cultivation method from the Sutra Pavilion, right? What did you choose?"
At once, Tartaglia stiffened.
His gaze skittered. He mumbled evasively.
The three exchanged a grim glance. Uh-oh.
His reaction… screamed trouble.
"Tartaglia!"
The Archon's tone sharpened.
"Your Majesty… maybe… don't ask…"
He scratched his head awkwardly.
"It's just… a simple technique. Not worth mentioning. Let me tell you more about Mount Shu's wonders instead—"
Rosalyne's eyes lit up, her voice rising eagerly.
"Your Majesty, I bet he picked something dangerous!"
"Bullshit!" Tartaglia snapped.
"My technique may not match Furina's, but it's still top-tier! In terms of killing power, I'd say it's the strongest among all new disciples!"
Killing power.
The Archon's eyes narrowed. That phrasing—ill omen.
"Tartaglia. Show me. Fight me with your chosen technique."
"Uh…"
His face twisted in distress.
"What's this? You defy me now, after cultivation?"
Her voice grew heavier.
Head bowed, Tartaglia faltered.
"No, Your Majesty. It's just… my technique is…"
He glanced up, gauging her expression. Then, with a deep breath, he confessed:
"…It's not a sparring technique. Once I unleash it… it's only for killing."
"My art can't be used to duel. Once drawn, it means I intend to kill."
The Cryo Archon groaned inwardly.
"You… what in the world did you pick? Why such bloodlust?"
"Don't tell me—you chose a demonic art?!"
At that, Tartaglia's eyes darted guiltily aside.
The three froze.
It took the Archon a long moment to find her voice.
"You… you really did choose a demonic art?!"
"How could you, Tartaglia! Are you insane?!"
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