"Understood. Since the Fatui beat us to the lyre, we’ll just take it back from them."
"Oh? So Operation ’Take Jean’ is officially underway?"
Kamisato Satoru deliberately emphasized the word "Jean," his voice carrying an obvious hint of teasing.
Jean’s pretty face instantly turned bright red. She couldn’t shake the feeling that his words contained some unspeakable double meaning.
"Ahem. There’s no time to waste. Let’s get moving."
Diluc forcibly suppressed the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and stepped in to smooth things over.
"Then I’ll stay here and wish you all a triumphant return in advance. Good luck!"
Venti shamelessly waved his hand, clearly intending to remain in the tavern and continue drinking for free.
Thump!
Kamisato Satoru couldn’t care less about his divine status. He immediately brought his knuckles down hard on Venti’s forehead.
Ignoring the Anemo Archon crouching on the floor and clutching his head in pain, Kamisato Satoru was the first to walk out of the tavern.
Jean and Diluc exchanged a glance before simultaneously letting out deep sighs.
Their god was simply hopeless.
There was no carrying this guy. Absolutely none.
Only Kamisato Ayaka found this way of interacting with a god rather fascinating.
After all, the Shogun of Inazuma was such an imposing and majestic existence that her mere presence could make it difficult to breathe.
So the Anemo Archon was actually this strange creature with skin thicker than Mondstadt’s walls, who did nothing but con people into buying him milk tea.
If Kamisato Satoru knew what she was thinking, he would definitely tell her loudly:
This is nothing. It’s only the admission ticket to Teyvat’s convention of bizarre gods.
The group wasted no time heading straight for the ruins where the Fatui had hidden the stolen relic.
Along the way, Kamisato Satoru practically switched on invincibility mode. Every unlucky fool who stood in their path was slammed to the ground by gravity before they could even touch the hem of his clothes.
After a round of "friendly" yet deeply memorable interrogation, they quickly fought their way to the chamber where the Holy Lyre der Himmel was being held.
Clang!
Before they could approach, a massive cage of cold iron suddenly crashed down from above, completely enclosing the lyre’s case.
Whoosh!
A Fatui Agent from Snezhnaya, shrouded in darkness and wearing a sinister mask, abruptly materialized before them.
"What petty thieves dare come here and cause trou..."
"An assassin from Snezhnaya? You talk too much."
Kamisato Satoru pulled his blindfold down slightly and casually swept a finger through the air.
A suffocating torrent of Cursed Energy erupted in an instant.
Before the Fatui Agent could even finish making his dramatic entrance, all four of his limbs were violently shredded into a cloud of blood.
"I’ll leave the interrogation to you. Better hurry, though. Otherwise, he’ll bleed to death before you get anything out of him."
A wicked, cruel smile hung on Kamisato Satoru’s lips, enough to send chills down anyone’s spine.
Even Jean was stunned by the sheer brutality of the attack.
Suppressing her discomfort, she hurried forward and efficiently stopped the unconscious assassin’s bleeding.
"You really are... as decisive and ruthless as ever."
Diluc glanced at the gruesome scene on the floor. Even he found it somewhat excessive.
"Haha, you’ll get used to it. At least this is easier to clean up than burning someone straight to ash with fire or lightning, right?"
"All right, we’ve got the lyre. Let’s head back and meet up at the tavern."
"Let’s go."
...
"Oh, the heroes are back! My most loyal listeners, welcome home in triumph!"
"Hey, looks like you really did manage to recover that precious old antique."
Venti beamed at the group, seeing that none of them had suffered so much as a scratch.
"While you’re still in the mood to joke around, how about doing some actual work for once, Barbatos?"
Kamisato Satoru jumped ahead of everyone else and delivered the classic line word for word.
Right now, he genuinely wanted to fire an extra-large Hollow Technique: Purple straight at Venti and teach this guy the true price of slacking off.
"Ehe!"
"What the heck does ’ehe’ even mean?! Explain yourself!"
Paimon furiously stomped her feet in midair, utterly fed up with the little green guy who always gave vague, evasive answers.
Everyone present was completely speechless at Venti’s shameless laziness.
"Hey, Jean. Since you’re an Anemo Vision bearer anyway, why don’t you just take over as the Anemo Archon?"
Kamisato Satoru made the suggestion half-seriously.
"I consider that an extremely constructive proposal. I support it with both hands and feet."
For once, Diluc didn’t argue with him. His tone was deadly serious.
"Great idea!"
"Acting Grand Master Jean, if you agree, I’ll abdicate immediately and let you take over!!!"
Venti’s expression instantly lit up with excitement.
He looked as though he wanted to rip the Gnosis straight out of his body and stuff it into Jean’s hands on the spot.
Who wanted to be the stupid Anemo Archon anyway?
He had to worry about all sorts of annoying problems around the city every day. How could that possibly compare to the carefree life of a free wind spirit?
Diluc stared at this hopeless excuse for a god and genuinely began to feel that making Jean the Anemo Archon might be Mondstadt’s only hope.
"Lord Venti, please don’t make such outrageous jokes. There can only ever be one Anemo Archon, and that is you."
Jean helplessly rubbed her temples.
The pressure was becoming unbearable.
patreon.com/ZoroTL442