Qiu Nian didn't refuse.
He took the two flatbreads from Ororon.
"My legs are sore…"
Ororon muttered—
Then simply sat down on the ground.
He picked up a flatbread and started eating.
Qiu Nian glanced at the one in his hand—
And took a bite.
"Not bad."
"Was it made by that old man just now?"
He turned slightly, looking at Ororon with a faint smile.
"Grandpa Kunor's flatbread has always been good."
Ororon nodded.
"My name is Ororon."
"I'm from Natlan's Smokeveil Tribe."
"The one you've been observing."
Qiu Nian took another bite.
"…Qiu Nian."
"…Were you just now concentrating intensely…"
"Observing the Smokeveil Tribe?"
Ororon asked seriously.
"I was just enjoying the scenery."
Qiu Nian shook his head slightly.
"…The scenery?"
Ororon froze.
"You're saying…"
"You stood there for hours…"
"Just to look at the view?"
He stared at Qiu Nian—
Clearly unable to believe it.
Standing still for hours—
Just to watch scenery?
What a strange person…
That thought made him recall his grandmother's advice:
Be wary of beasts.
Be wary of liars.
Be wary of strange people who appear out of nowhere.
And Qiu Nian—
Clearly matched the third.
Ororon subconsciously grew more cautious.
"I know it sounds strange."
"But I've lived for a very long time."
"And what seems meaningless…"
"Has become the most interesting thing to me."
Qiu Nian smiled lightly.
"Spring, summer, autumn, winter…"
"Every moment, every second…"
"In different places, at different times…"
"There are unique sights to be seen."
"There are too many beautiful things in this era."
"That I must personally walk through…"
"See…"
"And experience."
He turned his gaze back to the star-lit tribe below.
Speaking calmly.
Ororon seemed to understand—
A little.
But in his heart—
He still thought Qiu Nian was strange.
"…Lived a long time?"
"How long?"
He asked curiously.
"About six thousand years."
Qiu Nian's answer—
Left Ororon completely stunned.
"…Six thousand years?"
He couldn't believe it.
Aside from gods—
Who could possibly live that long?
Is he… a god?
If so—
Stabilizing Natlan's ley lines might actually make sense.
But—
He still didn't want to believe it.
So he dismissed it—
As a joke.
Because right now—
That wasn't the important part.
What mattered was—
Why this person was helping Natlan.
"You don't look like someone from Natlan."
"Why help stabilize its ley lines?"
Ororon asked directly.
Qiu Nian finished his flatbread.
Then asked a question instead:
"Do you live in this world…"
"Or only in Natlan?"
Ororon paused.
Then—
He understood.
Looking at Qiu Nian—
He gave a small nod of thanks.
"But what kind of power…"
"Lets you do something like that?"
"To stabilize Natlan's ley lines…"
"By yourself…"
"And still look completely fine afterward?"
Qiu Nian turned his head slightly.
A faint smile appeared.
"In ancient Liyue…"
"There was a god named Marchosius."
"He poured his divine power into the land…"
"Calming disasters."
"And repairing the shattered ley lines left behind by the Archon War."
"He gave everything."
"Exhausted all his divine power."
"And lost most of his intellect."
Qiu Nian didn't answer directly.
Instead—
He told a story.
"…A god of Liyue… Marchosius…"
"What a great god…"
Ororon murmured.
To sacrifice everything—
To restore the land—
It was both power—
And devotion.
"What I did just now…"
"Is no different from him."
"He exhausted everything."
"I only used a portion of my power."
"Natlan's ley lines…"
"Are not as damaged as Liyue's once were."
"But…"
"The situation is not optimistic."
"So I simply gave them a slight reinforcement."
Qiu Nian looked down at the glowing tribe below.
Speaking calmly.
"Those who help themselves…"
"Will be helped by others."
"And then…"
"By the heavens."
He turned—
And smiled faintly at Ororon.
The next moment—
A white-and-crimson divine aura surged around him.
And then—
He vanished.
Ororon's pupils shrank.
Standing there—
He recalled Qiu Nian's words.
"Six thousand years…"
"Only used a portion of his power…"
"God…"
He stared blankly at the Smokeveil Tribe below.
"…A god?"
Among the Seven—
Only the Geo Archon had lived that long.
But—
Wasn't that god said to have already fallen?
Then—
Who exactly was that man just now?
"…Those who help themselves…"
"…will be helped by others… and by the heavens?"
Ororon frowned.
Murmuring to himself.
"…What did that mean?"
"…I should ask Grandma."
With that—
He stuffed the remaining half of his flatbread into his mouth—
And headed toward Citlali's residence.
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