Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Eve of Judgment

The rift in the world slowly closed, and the power within Lu Mingfei faded along with it.

That power had been temporarily bestowed upon him by Lu Mingze, who, fearing his older brother might be instantly vanquished by the formidable beings of another world, had intervened even without Lu Mingfei’s explicit plea for help—and had done so with all his might.

It was thanks to Lu Mingze’s aid that Lu Mingfei’s Judgment had been so overwhelming—a true, complete force, the kind wielded by a fully matured Dragon King, terrifying enough to pierce the very fabric of the world.

If only I possessed such power...

Lu Mingfei turned his gaze upon the little devil, the fervor in his eyes blazing to its peak. He looked upon him like a famished spirit staring at a feast, his voice trembling with manic excitement, “Lu Mingze, I think we’ll get along famously.”

Gulp.

Lu Mingze’s throat bobbed nervously; his brother’s gaze was too dazzling, and he felt as if he were a vampire caught in the sun, his whole being scorched, ready to be reduced to ashes at any moment.

He instinctively took a step back. Lu Mingfei matched him, but his stride was even larger, closing the distance between them.

His eyes seemed to shine even more brightly!

“Bro, don’t look at me like that. You’re scaring me,” Lu Mingze pleaded, raising his hands before him like a pitiful child.

“Hehehe, don’t be afraid. I’m not going to eat you. All I need is for you to occasionally—just occasionally—lend me a little power. Your big brother has important things to do,” Lu Mingfei said, stepping forward once more, his excitement barely contained.

If he could retain that power, and luck favored him with a weak spot in the world’s barrier, he could quickly break through into other worlds, and perhaps, finally, find the path to Teyvat.

The key to entering other worlds lay in whether the little devil was willing to cooperate. As long as he agreed, Lu Mingfei could unleash the full strength of a mature Dragon King, easily shattering the weakest points in the world’s barrier—a power of critical importance.

So this is how strong I am when Lu Mingze and I work together!

Lu Mingfei had never imagined he could be so powerful, that he could wield such strength. And when the power faded, he suffered no ill effects, as though he’d used a force that was rightfully his.

Indeed, we are one!

Only with his cooperation can I wield our complete power!

“Don’t come any closer!” Lu Mingze retreated again, appearing as weak, pitiful, and helpless as a normal child.

In truth, the little devil was not afraid of death or of being devoured by Lu Mingfei—he even thought merging with his brother might not be so bad.

But!

Now was absolutely not the time!

If this guy got his hands on my power, he’d hammer at the world’s barrier every single day, convinced he could break through it one day and see what lay beyond.

Oh heavens, that’s too dangerous. He’s basically playing with his life! The little devil just wanted his brother to rule the world, not to throw his life away!

If Lu Mingfei truly died—

Wouldn’t that make Lu Mingze the fool?

What would his sacrifice have amounted to?

Hmph, you can play on your own!

Lu Mingze quickly fled, vanishing to where Lu Mingfei couldn’t see him, making a fierce face at him from the shadows. Still unsatisfied, he sneaked behind Lu Mingfei and gave him a vicious kick.

Of course, there was no real harm done—nor was it even felt.

“Sigh, I’ll have to think of another way,” Lu Mingfei muttered, watching the direction in which the little devil disappeared.

Even now, an invisible little devil was furiously kicking at his backside, muttering to himself, “Don’t look back, brother, I’m going to kick your butt raw!”

Fontaine, Meropide Fortress.

Clorinde led a vast force of mechanical soldiers, encircling the prison holding the Knave in multiple layers. The Duke of Lyney had even moved his office to a spot just outside the prison.

Under normal circumstances, Meropide Fortress wouldn’t directly detain prisoners, but the Knave was a special case. As the formidable Fourth Harbinger of the Fatui, she required overwhelming force to be contained.

Although neither Lyney nor Clorinde could defeat her outright, with both keeping watch at all times, and accompanied by a phalanx of mechanical soldiers, the weaponless and gravely injured Knave—wounded by the dreambeast—could not break out quickly. As long as they had time to respond, Neuvillette could rush in to suppress her.

Outside the Knave’s special cell, a suspicious-looking Fatui agent crept closer. He seemed to possess special clearance, for the patrolling mechanical soldiers ignored him, and Clorinde happened to be off duty at that moment.

After all,

Humans are not machines; they cannot stand watch twenty-four hours a day. Only machines could do that.

But,

Machines might not be entirely reliable either.

“Executor, are you all right?” the Fatui agent whispered anxiously as he glanced around, drawing nearer to the cell.

“Hm?” The Knave slowly opened her eyes, fixing a silent gaze upon the Fatui agent.

Given the vigilance of the people of Fontaine, it was nearly impossible for an ordinary Fatui member to reach her. This might be Furina’s trap, or perhaps the prelude to her trial. In any case, she couldn’t trust this man.

“I heard from Lyney that you were hurt. How are you now? Is it serious? Do you need medicine?” the Fatui agent asked urgently.

A fake.

The Knave closed her eyes again, ignoring him.

Even if an ordinary Fatui agent could reach this place, Lyney would never divulge her injuries so carelessly. Besides, her wounds were not physical but dream-inflicted; medicine was useless.

So, this agent was certainly a fake—most likely a Fontainian in disguise, probing for information to use in her trial.

After all, no one ever complains of having too many bargaining chips.

“Executor? Executor?” The agent called out twice more, but the Knave remained silent and cold, as unfeeling as iron. No matter what he said, she would not respond.

Gradually, the agent grew anxious, his voice rising as he poured out a torrent of desperate words, his sentences disordered with panic.

But the Knave was unmoved.

She was certain he was a fake, and even if he wasn’t, it was surely a ploy. She was absolutely sure that no one could break through such an intensive patrol.

Thus, time trickled by. The agent’s situation seemed to grow more precarious. Gritting his teeth, he tossed a wad of paper into the Knave’s cell and finally urged, “Executor, this is the quickest way to escape prison. You must take it!”

“Hm?” The Knave opened her eyes again, puzzled.

She didn’t know what message he intended to deliver, but it was at least intriguing. She watched the agent flee, then glanced at the crumpled paper by her side, unable to resist opening it.

“Confess and you’ll receive leniency; reform and you’ll be rewarded.”

Arlecchino crushed the note in her hand, reducing it to ash with a flicker of Pyro.

What a tiresome game.

She had known from the start that no ordinary Fatui agent could reach her under these circumstances. It was all a Fontainian ploy.

Not long after, a familiar figure appeared not far from the Knave’s cell.

It was Lyney.

And now the question arose: was this the real Lyney, or a fake? Had Lyney reached her through his own skill, or because the guards had turned a blind eye, hoping to collect her confession? Was this a genuine accident, or part of the Hydro Archon’s script?

She didn’t know. She knew nothing anymore. The self-assured, haughty Hydro Archon in her dreams, and the succession of fake Fatui agents trying to trick her, had all deeply muddled her judgment.

It was as if the Hydro Archon was saying in another way: “I know what you intend, and I’ll give you this chance, but do you dare seize it?”

So,

By now, the reason for Lyney’s appearance hardly mattered. What mattered was that the Knave could not trust him. No matter how reliable he seemed, she could easily imagine him as a mere pawn, with a plausible explanation for every detail.

This was—strikethrough Lu Mingfei—this was Furina’s wisdom: you can guard against a thief for a thousand days, but even the most precise machines and guards have their lapses. It’s nearly impossible to prevent every mistake.

So, she chose to strike at the root, to make the very act of prevention less crucial, to strip from the threat its credibility, and thus make it less necessary to guard against.

“Father, I’ve come,”

Lyney announced as he approached the Knave’s cell. But he was met only by her cold, indifferent expression.

“Father? Father?” Lyney called out again, gauging her reaction.

The Knave did not respond. She merely watched him, waiting to see what message or performance he would present.

Time passed quietly.

The Knave and Lyney watched and studied each other.

After a while, frustration colored Lyney’s face, and he muttered, “Damn it, another fake. She seems so real. That’s the fourth one—how can I tell which is the real one?”

He felt sure he’d been found out. After all, so many fake “fathers” must have reported him, but the jailers never caught him, letting him roam “in secret” as if he were a mouse in a maze of traps.

But what else could he do?

Should he stop searching for his father just because he knew it was a trap?

Should he give up?

No, never. He couldn’t. Even knowing the risks, Lyney had to find his true father and deliver the intelligence he’d gathered, to finish this game of “Where’s Dad?”

So it was that the Knave, unable to trust Lyney, met Lyney, who could not trust the Knave. Like strangers passing at a crossroads, each suspected the other of playing a part, for they had seen too much of this charade already.

This was Fontaine, domain of the Hydro Archon—a goddess with a love for drama. Perhaps, from some lofty vantage, she was watching it all with a smile, sipping expensive wine and savoring her daily ration of sixteen pastries, the spectacle curving her lips in amusement.

“Sigh.”

Lyney left with a sigh, while the Knave suspected he was still trying to trick her into believing he was the real Lyney. And even if he was, what could she do? Could she dare to communicate with him?

Besides, there was no guarantee he was real.

What should have been a hopeful exchange of intelligence between kin had become poisoned with suspicion.

The Knave could have tried to verify his identity, received his information, and passed on her instructions. But she didn’t know if her every move was being watched; if she made that choice in the open, the result...

With irrefutable evidence, Fontaine could execute a Harbinger of Snezhnaya without protest. After all, when the Lady was struck down by the Raiden Shogun, Snezhnaya had not objected.

In Fontaine, the Knave could not die in obscurity, but she could be judged in full view.

The end was the same, but the nature of it was utterly different.

At Mermagn Palace—

“Lady Furina, just as you predicted, Lyney found a chance to meet with the Knave. We did not intervene,” the staff member reported with a bow.

“Just as I expected,” Furcalos crossed her elegant legs, gently swirling her teacup and watching the ripples form. She inquired, “And after?”

“They spoke only briefly and parted soon after. The mechanical sentinels found no trace of paper scraps during their patrol, but we cannot be certain no message was passed,” the staff member replied.

“Arrest Lyney. He’ll be tried tomorrow as well,” Furina said, sipping her tea.

When a fish knows it’s biting the bait, yet bites anyway, it’s only natural for the angler to reel it in—the only question is when.

The Knave was an exceedingly dangerous woman.

Furina had never considered trying to fully control her, for the Knave was not the kind of person anyone could master. The madness within her was perilous; even the Tsaritsa herself might one day find the Knave’s blade turned against her, given the right motive.

A mix of mockery and intimidation was the best precaution. While playing games, one must keep the proper distance—not too close to her, nor too far from Neuvillette—and always be ready to communicate with Lu Mingfei, lest he launch a sudden attack.

The pieces were set.

Tonight was the final rehearsal.

(End of chapter)