The third story—of Barbatos, the Anemo Archon—came to an end.
Below the stage, the audience buzzed with discussion, talking about Barbatos, the bard named Venti.
From the story's conclusion, the listeners finally understood.
No wonder they had thought the story seemed too unbelievable.
It was not that the storyteller had done a poor job, nor that the story was full of holes. It was that Barbatos had hidden himself too well.
Who would have thought that a bard with two small braids, who looked like a young girl, who stood on street corners singing "old songs" for a few coins, who worked all day and still could not afford a drink, who seemed so ordinary—that such a person could be the legendary Anemo Archon?
Was that even possible?
A powerful god, hiding behind a disguise for over three thousand years?
It was absurd.
Under normal circumstances, they would never have believed it.
But now, hearing it from the storyteller Li Mo, most were uncertain. They dared not confirm it, for fear of offending the Anemo Archon. They dared not refute it loudly, for fear of angering Keqing of the Qixing.
"If only Barbatos were here. Then we could verify the truth of the story."
"Do you think the wind will carry this story to the Anemo Archon's ears?"
"I've seen that street-singing bard several times in Liyue Harbor. I never imagined he was the Anemo Archon. Could it be that Mondstadt's Anemo Archon is still in Liyue?"
"If the story is false, will the Anemo Archon be angry enough to kill the storyteller?"
"Don't slander him. You can call the Anemo Archon a slacker, but you can't say he kills people. That's not something he would do."
The audience murmured among themselves.
Many were struck by sudden realization. They had heard Barbatos's songs right here in Liyue Harbor.
In a corner of the inn, even Keqing, who had been sitting quietly, and Hu Tao, who had been teasing Qiqi, were moved by the story. They dabbed at the corners of their eyes.
"Just as moving as Qiqi's story—"
"So it wasn't only Liyue. Even ancient Mondstadt had its hardships, and its story is just as beautiful."
"What a pity Rex Lapis is gone. If he were still here, he would surely have enjoyed these stories."
At the mention of Rex Lapis, a shadow of sorrow fell over them.
Losing Rex Lapis had left them all adrift.
Among them, only Shenhe remained sharp-eyed, her gaze fixed intently on Li Mo, her expression thoughtful.
She was thinking about one thing.
Among the boy's reincarnations, could there be one in which he had crossed paths with her?
Even Shenhe was startled by this thought. Her heart grew uneasy.
Surely not.
Even if she had lost a part of her memory, it could not be connected to some reincarnated boy.
Surely not.
Shenhe bit her lip lightly. Her heart, long frozen, began to waver.
Keqing noticed her strange expression and asked with concern, "Shenhe, what's wrong? What were you saying couldn't be?"
Shenhe's expression returned to calm. "Nothing. I was just moved by the Anemo Archon's story."
...
While Keqing and the others were moved, while Shenhe was deep in thought, while the audience's attention was fixed on the stage, no one noticed a gentle breeze stirring the doors of Wangshu Inn.
A bard stepped through—wearing a green cap, a green cape, carrying a small harp, his hair in two small braids.
The moment he entered, a soft wind began to blow through the inn, startling everyone.
Where had the wind come from?
Then, as if carried on the breeze, the sound of a harp reached their ears, along with a voice singing:
"Free god of wind—"
"Let me see the blue sky, let me see the green earth, let me see the birds flying free—"
...
Hearing the harp and the song, every listener was startled.
What was this? The harp, the song—they were just like the ones in the story?
Could it be that Barbatos had come?
The moment the thought crossed their minds, everyone in the inn turned to look at the entrance.
A slight figure stood there, one foot already through the door.
A green cap, a green cape, two small braids, like a young girl.
At any other time, seeing this bard, some might have teased him: "Look, a little harp girl. Oh, it's a boy."
But now, seeing the boy with his harp, no one could laugh. Their faces grew tense, as if confronted by something fearsome.
He was identical to the boy in the story.
There was only one possibility.
This boy was Barbatos, the Anemo Archon, in the form of that young boy.
All were frozen, unsure what protocol demanded for greeting one of the Seven Archons, the ruler of Mondstadt.
No one moved. No one spoke. They could only stare as Barbatos, playing his harp and singing his songs of freedom, walked to a corner of the inn and sat down beside Zhongli without a word.
Seeing this, everyone in the inn breathed a collective sigh of relief.
He had sat down.
It seemed Barbatos had not come to confront anyone, but to listen.
Thank the heavens.
Their storyteller was safe.
The tension in their hearts eased.
But for the listeners, the fact that Barbatos himself had come indirectly confirmed one thing: the storyteller's tales were likely true.
Now, the audience turned their attention to Barbatos in the corner, growing more curious.
With so many better seats, why had the Anemo Archon chosen to sit in an ordinary corner with that fellow Zhongli?
Did that good-for-nothing have some special charm?
Zhongli and the Raiden Shogun had, of course, noticed Barbatos long before.
As he sat down, Zhongli's expression remained unchanged. "Old friend, you've finally come."
In that moment, the rulers of Liyue, Inazuma, and Mondstadt had gathered together for the first time in a thousand years.
Hearing Zhongli's voice, a smile appeared on Barbatos's face.
"Old man, aren't you alive and well?"
"I thought you were really dead. I drank three bottles of old wine in your honor."
Zhongli said calmly, "Never mind the details. Today, someone else is paying. Would you like tea or wine?"
Barbatos said, "Wine, of course. But I prefer Mondstadt's wine."
With that, he produced a bottle of Dandelion Wine from somewhere and set it on the table. He poured a cup for himself, then one for Zhongli.
He looked at the Raiden Shogun. "Care for a cup?"
Her gaze cold, the Raiden Shogun said, "I have no interest in such intoxicating liquids."
With that, she resumed her cold silence, ignoring them, her eyes fixed on the stage, waiting for Li Mo to continue.
Three lives had passed. When would the final reincarnation come? When would she meet her brother again?
At that moment, Barbatos drained his cup of Dandelion Wine and looked up at the stage.
With a hint of sorrow in his voice, he said, "Storyteller, I have a question."
Li Mo kept his composure. "Please, ask."
Barbatos said, "I want to know—is Venti, the boy in the story, still in the cycle of reincarnation?"
"And if so, where is he now?"
Over thousands of years, he had long accepted the reality of his friend's death.
But now, hearing these stories, hope stirred in his heart.
Could he and Venti meet again?
Could they fulfill the promise they had made three thousand years ago?
Now, seeing Barbatos again after three thousand years, Li Mo felt a surge of emotion.
But he took a deep breath, steadied himself, and said slowly, "You are very clever. You guessed correctly."
"After Venti died, he did not enter the underworld like other souls. He entered the next cycle of reincarnation."
"And he continued his journey of reincarnation."
Hearing this answer, Venti let out a sigh of relief.
As long as he had entered the cycle of reincarnation, there was still a chance they could meet again.
The next moment, Li Mo added, "Not only did the boy continue to reincarnate—"
"In his fourth life, you and he once met."