The moon hung high over Guili Plains, bathing the cracked stones and shallow puddles in pale silver. Crickets sang their low, unhurried song through the tall grass. A cool breeze swept down from the mountains, ruffling the reeds along the riverbank and carrying the faint scent of wet earth.
Furina was not enjoying the solitude.
Xiao stood with his back to her, one hand resting lightly on the railing of a crumbling stone walkway. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon, as though waiting for something that might never arrive—another beast, perhaps, or an answer to questions older than the ruins themselves.
She kicked a loose pebble. It skipped twice across the stone before plinking into a puddle.
"I could help, you know," she said, for the third time that hour.
Xiao offered no reply.
Furina exhaled sharply, a frustrated groan escaping her lips. "Are you deliberately ignoring me, or are you simply lost in another brooding reverie?"
At that, he turned his head just enough to acknowledge her. A concession, perhaps. Or merely exhaustion at her persistence.
"You don't need to fight," he said at last, voice low and cool as river stone. "That's why I'm here."
"And what if you don't arrive in time?" The words came out sharper than she intended, edged with something close to fear.
He finally faced her fully. "Then what?"
Furina stepped closer, her gloved hand settling on the silver pommel of her rapier. Moonlight glinted along the slender hilt.
"Fight me."
Xiao's eyes narrowed a fraction, the only sign he had heard correctly.
"No."
"Afraid I'll win?"
His expression remained unchanged.
"Afraid you'll get hurt," he corrected.
Furina arched a brow, a familiar spark of arrogance flaring behind her eyes. Yet in the open air, under the vast sky, the smile felt thinner than usual.
"Darling, I've been hurt before. A lost duel would be almost comforting.
She drew the blade with a soft metallic whisper, the sound crisp in the night. Taking four measured steps backward, she settled into a classic fencing stance—weight balanced, one foot elegantly behind the other, rapier extended in a perfect line toward his heart.
Xiao did not move.
Furina flicked her wrist once, sending a silver arc flashing through the dark. "What, no audience participation? Afraid of embarrassing yourself in front of a former Archon?"
He paused, exhaled through his nose, and finally stepped forward. One gloved hand rose, fingers flicking. Green light coalesced, forming the familiar jade spear. He held it loosely, almost lazily.
"Don't cry when you fall," he said, deadpan.
"Try not to blush when I win," she shot back.
The first move was hers.
She lunged. The rapier tip streaked toward his shoulder like a falling star. Xiao parried with the spear's haft, metal ringing against metal in a sharp, echoing note that rolled across the empty plains.
Furina shifted instantly, dropping low for a sweeping cut at his knee. He sidestepped with effortless grace, blocking with the shaft alone, feet barely disturbing the dust.
"You've trained," he admitted, voice neutral.
"That's all I get? A single syllable of praise?"
He vanished.
Anemo swirled, and he reappeared behind her, spear tip hovering an inch from her back but never touching.
Furina whirled, blade rising in a defensive guard. "Coward's tactic."
"Tacticians," he corrected.
The tempo surged.
Furina pressed the attack, no longer posturing. Each strike was precise: wrist crisp, footwork light, and blade humming in tight crescents. Moonlight danced along the steel. She wasn't performing for an audience now; she was proving something to herself.
Xiao blocked three, four, and five strikes—each parry economical, giving ground only to draw her out. Then he stepped inside her guard, twisting the spear's haft to disarm.
The rapier flew from her grip, spinning into the grass.
But Furina recovered in half a heartbeat. She pivoted, closing the distance, and pressed two fingers gently against his chest in a mock killing blow.
They froze.
Her fingertips rested directly over his heart. It was steady and strong but faster than she expected. Xiao's spear hovered near her ribs, close enough to feel the faint hum of Anemo along the blade.
Golden eyes met heterochromatic ones at perilously close range.
A second stretched into two. Three.
The night remained silent.
Xiao blinked first. He stepped back, dissolving the spear in a swirl of green light.
"You're not weak," he said quietly. "But you're impulsive."
Furina sheathed her rapier with trembling fingers; she hoped he didn't notice. "Recklessness gets results."
"Recklessness gets people killed."
She had no reply for that.
He turned away.
Furina returned to her spot on the walkway, heart pounding far louder than any exertion warranted. It was the moment her fingers had lingered on his chest. The warmth through fabric, the faint tremor of restrained power.
Something changed between them that moment.
They did not speak again that night.
Neither was able to sleep.
The breeze carried the scent of wet stone and crushed grass. Clouds drifted across the moon. Far below the surface, a ripple passed through the ley lines—too deep for mortal ears.
Xiao's head tilted fractionally, eyes narrowing.
Furina, lying on her bedroll with eyes wide toward the stars, suddenly felt wide awake.
And something between them had changed.
Dawn came slowly the next morning, more mist than light, struggling through thick coastal clouds. Guili Plains lay damp with dew; stones glistened, and grasses bowed under silver droplets.
Xiao was gone.
Furina sat up abruptly, her hidden Vision flickering faintly in response to her unease.
"Not again," she muttered, not bothering to pin her hair or smooth her coat.
She followed faint disturbances in the grass—barely visible footprints, a whisper of Anemo—and her intuition. Something less tangible than sight guided her: presence.
She found him beneath a half-collapsed golden arch, one of the ancient vertebrae of Guili Assembly's ruined glory. He stood utterly still, eyes closed, face tilted toward the distant cliff edge.
At first she thought he was meditating. Then she noticed the tension in his jaw and the clenched fists at his sides.
She said nothing, simply watched.
After a long moment, he opened his eyes.
"You're loud," he said without turning.
"I'm sulking," she pouted.
"I'm observing."
She stepped up beside him. "Do the ley lines usually murmur this much?"
"They're not murmuring," he replied. "They're grinding."
Furina blinked. "Grinding?"
"Something below is forcing pressure upward. Ancient energy is being compressed and contained there. The land is resisting. It won't hold forever."
She let the wind tease her bangs. "You could have told me."
He looked at her for a moment. "You would have worried."
"I'm worried anyway."
Later, she trained.
She hadn't intended an audience.
Yet Xiao watched from the treeline, perched lightly atop a broken stone pillar, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Her fencing had evolved overnight. Gone were the dramatic lunges and theatrical flourishes. Now every motion was calculated: efficient, grounded, and deadly. Her three Salon Solitaire members moved around her like extensions of her will.
She parried an imaginary thrust, twisted, and unleashed a Hydro ripple that burst outward like a blooming shield.
Xiao's eyes narrowed.
Another sequence. Her constructs shifted formation, which is offensive now. Crabaletta spun low, shell glowing as she projected a defensive barrier. Usher fired a pressurized jet that could have felled a hilichurl brigade. Chevalmarin coiled like a serpent and struck with pinpoint precision.
Xiao rose, hand hovering reflexively over his spear.
Then the earth snapped. A tremor rippled through the cliffside.
Furina froze mid-motion. Xiao materialized beside her in an instant.
"It's close."
"Another one?"
He nodded—then paused.
The grass at the base of the slope undulated. Not wind. Something moving beneath.
"Get behind me!" He commanded.
She didn't. Instead, she stepped forward, constructs fanning out to flank her.
The ground split.
A long, serpentine abomination uncoiled from the fissure—an unholy amalgam of Geo and Hydro, its body segmented like an ancient dragon-eel hybrid. Crystalline spines of corrupted ley energy jutted along its back, pulsing with unstable light. Its hide shifted between earthen gold and deep ocean blue, as though the elements themselves warred within it.
Where eyes should have been, jagged coral and fractured gemstones twitched. It fixed its gaze immediately on Furina.
Xiao launched without hesitation.
He streaked forward in a blaze of viridescent light, spear materializing as he became a green comet across the battlefield. The first strike cracked a crystalline plate along its flank, sending shards flying; however, the armor held strongly.
"It's reinforced," he called, voice calm despite the recoil that forced him back.
Furina's constructs spiraled into position.
"Gentilhomme Usher—with me! Crabaletta, hold the left flank! Chevalmarin, prepare spiral pattern!"
Her tone carried the authority of centuries on a stage.
Usher spun, tentacles glowing, and unleashed a high-pressure blast into the fissure Xiao had opened. Steam erupted with a hiss.
The serpent screeched: a warped sound like tearing silk and rushing water. Its tail whipped across the plain, gouging earth and stone.
Xiao vaulted upward, kicking off a leaning pillar, and dove for the exposed spine.
Furina sprinted forward with grounded, practical footwork that found purchase on loose stones. A crystalline spike erupted from the beast's back, but Crabaletta scuttled beside her and caught it.
Xiao's second strike came from above. A full vertical plunge. "Evil-conquering!"
The spear cracked the spine's central seam. Golden light flared—then the beast rolled, flinging Xiao into a tree. Bark shattered. He rebounded, landing hard but upright.
"I'm fine."
Furina didn't waste breath replying. She was already closing.
The serpent began spinning, extending crystalline spines in a defensive whirl.
"Chevalmarin—spiral disruptor! Now!"
The seahorse surged, twisting into a corkscrew of hydro that slammed into the beast's side, staggering it.
Furina seized the opening. She dropped low, rapier flashing between two fractured plates where Xiao's blow had weakened the armor. A concentrated hydro burst followed her thrust.
The plate shattered.
"Perfect," Xiao said, reappearing at her side.
She blinked. "Was that… a compliment?"
He offered no answer, only the faintest tightening at the corner of his mouth.
The serpent reared, unleashing a gravitational pulse. The air warped; both combatants were hurled backward. Furina's constructs flickered, destabilized.
She hit the ground hard, cape flipping over her face. Rolling clear, she shouted, "That was unladylike and rude!"
Xiao anchored his spear in the soil mid-air, riding the shockwave.
The beast burrowed suddenly, vanishing into the earth.
"Above—!"
It erupted behind Xiao, maw gaping like a furnace of crystal and water.
Furina acted on instinct. "Usher—emergency boost!"
The octopus spun and fired a compressed hydro wave into Xiao's back, propelling him sideways just as the jaws snapped shut on empty air.
The serpent crashed down with a seismic boom, splitting stone.
Xiao rolled, rose, and met Furina's eyes across the dust. Something passed between them. Acknowledgment between one another.
They regrouped beside the remnants of a broken arch.
Furina's breathing came fast, sweat beading despite the morning chill. A tear ran down her torn tights; her rapier dripped condensation.
"It's hunting us," Xiao said.
"Then we stop letting it choose the battlefield."
He nodded once.
"Draw it to the cliff," she said quickly. "You dive. I bind."
Another nod.
Furina stepped into the open, rapier lowered, and constructed a wide triangle around her. Her voice rang clear with command.
"By my decree—come forth!"
The trio pulsed in sequence, sending bright hydro flares skyward.
The serpent reacted instantly, surging toward the light.
Xiao vanished upward.
It charged, spitting crystalline spikes. Furina danced between them—left, right, one spin too close. A shard grazed her upper arm, slicing fabric and skin. Pain flared hot, but she didn't falter.
"Crabaletta—lockdown!"
The crab planted itself, firing a harpoon of solidified water that anchored the serpent's lower segments.
That single heartbeat was all Xiao needed.
He fell like a jade meteor, Anemo howling around him.
"LEMNISCATIC WIND CYCLING!"
The spear pierced the central ley core.
Light exploded—gold, blue, and green—swirling in a violent vortex. The scream that followed was not natural: layered beneath the beast's roar came faint, illusory whispers, as though the sky itself flickered for an instant, stars stuttering like a broken projection.
Then silence.
The creature collapsed, its body dissolving into ash and mineral dust.
Smoke curled from the ruined core.
Xiao landed lightly, chest rising and falling faster than usual. His spear vanished in a flash.
Furina dropped to one knee, hand clamping over her bleeding arm. Crimson seeped between her fingers.
He crossed the distance in three strides, knelt, and gently took her arm.
"This will scar," he said quietly.
"I know."
From a small vial—adeptly crafted, glowing faint teal—he poured antiseptic over the wound. She didn't flinch.
As he bound it with precise, careful wraps, she whispered, "I thought you didn't respect recklessness."
"I don't," he replied. "But I respect bravery."
A small, tired smile touched her lips. "That's almost poetic."
He tied the final knot.
"I was terrified," she admitted, voice barely audible.
"Good," he said. "Still shows you are alive."
He rose and walked to the cliff's edge, gazing at the settling dust.
Furina remained seated in the dirt, breathing shallowly. For the first time, she wondered what it truly meant to earn Xiao's trust.
Rain began to fall—soft at first, then steady, washing ash from stone and blood from grass.
They sought shelter beneath the fractured arch where the morning had begun.
Furina raised a small dome of Hydro to keep the worst of the downpour at bay.
For a long while, neither spoke.
Then, softly: "The legends about you, Yaksha… they don't do justice to what you've carried."
His profile was unreadable against the grey sky.
"So many battles," she continued, "and the land still cries out for protection. Doesn't it ever exhaust you?"
"There is no room for exhaustion."
She looked slightly annoyed. "That's not an answer."
He closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than the rain.
"Indarias once said the same. Before the madness took her."
The name hung between them—a ghost given voice.
Furina's breath caught. He had never spoken a fallen comrade's name to her before.
She looked down at her bandaged arm. "In Fontaine, I thought I was protecting everyone by wearing the mask of a god. I smiled for five hundred years while the prophecy loomed. I told myself the performance was noble. " A bitter laugh escaped. "But I was just afraid. Afraid they'd drown if I stopped pretending."
She met his gaze. "You don't wear a mask, Xiao. But you hide more than I ever did."
He didn't deny it.
"Why did you let me fight today?" she asked suddenly.
He looked at her then, raindrops catching on his lashes like tiny stars.
"Because you wanted to prove you could."
A pause.
"And," he added, almost too soft to hear, "you didn't run."
Something warm bloomed in her chest—not theatrical pride, but something quieter. Earned.
The rain began to ease.
Furina stood, brushed dirt from her coat, and extended her uninjured hand toward him.
"We should report this to Ganyu and to the Qixing together. Whatever's waking beneath the earth… they'll need to prepare."
Xiao did not take her hand.
But he rose—and walked beside her without vanishing.
End Chapter