Original God Zhongli BG Xiao Qinglong traveled through time

Dusk, like the thickening ink in an inkstone, stained the skyline of Inazuma Castle into a tranquil blue-gray. Inside the Yaedo guesthouse, before a sliding door painted with inky bamboo shadows, Lin Huan politely declined Xingqiu's offer to join him on a trip to the outlying island.

"I want to be alone for a while and watch the night scene of Inazuma." Her voice was gentle, like the evening breeze blowing through the pines in the courtyard. "Go ahead and have fun, but be careful."

The young man, unsuspecting, quickly blended into the throng of people in the newly illuminated streets, his emerald green robe dancing with joy. Lin Huan watched the figure disappear before gently closing the door, gently isolating the room from the clamor of the world.

Almost immediately after the door hinges stopped turning, a delicate yet undeniably pervasive scent of crimson cherry blossoms, like a surging tide beneath the moon, quietly permeated the silent room. On the pearwood table by the window, a talisman condensed from spiritual energy hovered quietly—the edges of the crimson cherry blossom petals shimmered with fine lightning, as if sealing a miniature storm.

Next to the talisman was a short note written in a romantic style:

"The tea is boiling, and everyone has arrived. It would be a shame to drink alone under the moonlight of the castle tower. —You know the way, sister Cat."

Lin Huan picked up the note, her fingertips touching the familiar handwriting, tinged with foxlike playfulness and insight. A faint, knowing smile played at the corner of her lips. What was meant to come would eventually come. She and the supreme "eternity" of this land would finally meet.

She didn't leave immediately, but walked to the window, opened it, and gazed out. The towering castle tower, eternally bathed in lightning, was like Inazuma's beating, cold, and hard heart, the most magnificent cage imprisoning her own divinity. Tonight, under the name "Lin Huan," she would officially enter that realm, not to conquer, but to... draw a line.

After stepping out of the guesthouse, Lin Huan did not use any magic to escape from the immortal family. Instead, he walked towards the castle tower step by step steadily, like an ordinary traveler, along the more than a thousand stone steps paved with bluestone slabs, which had been polished as smooth as jade by countless footsteps and time.

The higher they went, the fewer people there were, and the air grew so still that one could hear one's own heartbeat. Only the eternal, low rumble of thunder from deep within the clouds, like the breath of a god, enveloped the surrounding landscape evenly and oppressively. On either side of the road, enormous thunder cherry trees swayed silently in the night breeze, shedding tiny, shimmering crimson petals. They landed on her shoulders and hair, then slipped away quietly, as if to keep her, or more like a silent farewell.

The castle tower's massive doors swung open silently and heavily for her. Behind them, instead of the heavily guarded and clashing swords she'd imagined, she saw only a vast hall, spacious enough to swallow even the slightest sound, and a bone-chilling pressure that permeated every inch of the air. The flowing lightning, like a living being, reflected on the luminous black crystal floor, slicing the entire space into a riot of light and darkness, a grotesque spectacle.

The Thunder General, Ying, sat at the highest point at the far end of the hall. She wasn't holding her naginata in a combat stance, but rather, seated quietly behind a low rosewood table, her posture erect and sculpted. Her violet eyes, like the deepest thunderclouds gathering immense thunder, calmly and without a ripple, watched Lin Huan approach from the shadows of the doorway. That gaze itself was a judgment that needed no words.

Lin Huan walked calmly, the hem of her emerald green gown fluttering gently in the flowing lightning, like a leaf at the center of a storm, unwavering and unperturbed. She reached the center of the hall and paused, seven steps away—a distance that seemed neither offensive nor condescending. She nodded slightly, performing a standard Liyue etiquette.

"I am honored to meet you, General." Her voice was clear and melodious, evoking a subtle yet distinct echo in the overly empty hall. Her tone was respectful, yet carried a kind of aloofness that was just the right amount of distance, keeping people at a distance.

Ying didn't respond to her polite gesture, but simply raised his hand, his bony fingers pointing to the seat across from him, motioning her to sit down. On a low table, a simple tea set, reminiscent of a traditional "diaoping pot cooking" tea set, was emitting warm white steam. Next to it, a plate of exquisite, golden-fried tofu sat.

"Sit down." Ying's voice was not loud, but it had the texture and weight of gold and stone, directly penetrating the eardrum and striking the soul.

Lin Huan followed his instructions and sat down, her posture elegant and natural, her back as straight as a mountain bamboo. Her eyes quickly and meticulously scanned the tea set and the dish of incongruous snacks, knowing full well that this must be the master's "masterpiece"—using the most mundane of worldly matters to test the deity's reaction, a silent tease.

Ying picked up the quaint teapot and personally poured her a cup of tea. His movements were precise and fluid, like a pre-programmed routine, a perfection devoid of any trace of human warmth or chance. The deep azure tea poured into the sparkling white porcelain cup, creating delicate ripples.

"Your 'wind,'" Ying said, his gaze like tangible lightning, locking onto Lin Huan's face. "It has stirred Inazuma's 'eternity.'"

No small talk, no probing, just direct, heart-to-heart questions. This is Ying's style: pure, direct, and uncompromising.

Lin Huan took the cup of tea with both hands, her fingertips feeling the slight heat from the warm porcelain. She didn't shy away from the gaze that could have broken any mortal. She raised her eyes calmly, her gaze reflecting the stillness of a lake that had settled for centuries.

"The wind is invisible and formless, neither lingers nor destroys. It merely sweeps away dust, blows away fog, and allows what needs to be seen to be seen." Her response was equally direct, defining her intervention as a natural "cleansing" and "presentation," rather than a deliberate "disturbance" or "destruction." "If this disturbs the tranquility of 'eternity,' it is not my intention."

"Dust and fog are also part of 'eternity.'" Ying's voice remained steady, yet carried the absolute authority of someone who controlled life and death. "To forcefully disperse them is itself the greatest disturbance."

"General, what you're talking about is the philosophy of 'stillness.'" Lin Huan nodded slightly, acknowledging his point. But then his tone shifted like a stream, gentle yet resolute. "However, accumulated dust can blind the eyes, causing everything to lose its true color; spreading fog can engulf the path, causing travelers to lose their way. If 'eternity' means turning a blind eye to all this and absolute stagnation, then what does this 'eternity' ultimately protect? Is it this land and the people who live and breathe it, or... simply a cold, unchangeable 'concept' itself?"

Her voice was not loud, but it was like a stone thrown into an ancient pool, causing silent but violent ripples in the hall as silent as a tomb.

Ying's fingers, gripping the teacup, tightened for a moment, almost imperceptibly. Deep within those gilded pupils, a subtle flash of lightning flashed like an electric snake.

"You are questioning the meaning of 'eternity.'" This was not a question, but a cold statement, with an oppressive feeling of impending storm.

"I dare not." Lin Huan lowered his eyelashes, his gaze fixed on the tea leaves floating and unwinding in the cup. His tone was humble, but his words were increasingly like a sword unsheathed. "I was just wondering if an 'eternity' that rejects all change and isolates all pain is itself the ultimate denial and imprisonment of life. After all, life itself is about breathing, growing, remembering, feeling... and learning to say goodbye."

She said the word "farewell" very lightly, like a sigh, but it was like a sharp dagger tempered by hundreds of years of time, accurately piercing the most painful and most untouchable corner in Ying's heart - the death of her friend, the departure of her sister, and... the "doll" that she had "said goodbye" to with her own hands and sealed in the borrowed scenery.

The air in the hall seemed to freeze completely, even the flowing lightning seemed to become stagnant. The dish of fried tofu exuded an alluring, warm aroma belonging to the human world, forming an absurd and suffocating contrast with the cold, sharp aura between the two opponents.

Ying fell silent. She didn't get angry, didn't scold, but gazed deeply and probingly at Lin Huan with eyes that had seen through the passage of centuries and witnessed the rise and fall of countless lives. She saw in Lin Huan a completely different way of bearing the weight of time and wear—not by resisting it through "stillness" or "severing it," but by coexisting with it through "remembering" and "bearing it," even...making it a part of himself.

After a long time, so long that it seemed as if another hundred years had passed, Ying slowly spoke. There seemed to be less absolute coldness in his voice, and more of a very subtle, almost tired inquiry.

"Carrying the weight of an entire river... doesn't it feel heavy?"

Hearing this, Lin Huan finally let a faint, genuine smile cross her eyes. She remembered Xingqiu's eyes lighting up when he spoke of chivalry, remembered Ying and Paimon's noisy companionship during their journey, and remembered the curls of smoke rising from the lights of thousands of homes in Liyue Harbor when the sky cleared after the rain.

"Though the river is heavy, it also reflects the light of countless stars," she replied softly, her voice gentle but firm. "And those figures and moments that are remembered and cherished are the eternal starlight that illuminates the long river. It's heavy, but... I'm willing to do it, and I feel it's worth it."

At this point in the conversation, the core clash was complete. They each understood the other's stance, bottom line, and unwavering commitment. The name "Yu Qing," never mentioned from beginning to end, lingered like a vast, invisible ghost in every discussion of "eternity," "memory," and "farewell," becoming a clear, burning, and insurmountable boundary between them.

Ying said nothing more. She simply slowly pushed a talisman, shrouded in fine, pulsing lightning, toward Lin Huan. The talisman was neither gold nor jade, but engraved with the Inazuma's supreme triple thunder pattern.

"Your 'wind' can continue to blow." Ying's voice returned to its original, emotionless, absolute calm, with the final judgment of a god overlooking the mortal world, "Just don't try to uproot my cherry tree."

This is not a welcome or recognition, but a cautious permission based on equal strength and mutual understanding.

Lin Huan stood up and took the heavy talisman, imbued with supreme power and warning, with both hands. She didn't thank him, but simply nodded again, her gesture revealing the dignity and reserve of an immortal.

"Goodbye, General."

She turned, the hem of her blue gown brushing against the cold, hard, black crystal floor. As calmly and steadily as she had come, she walked towards the imperfect light of the mortal world outside the hall. The brilliant lightning, the heavy pressure behind her, and the god sitting in eternal solitude did not cause her steps to falter or hesitate in the slightest.

When she finally stepped out of the castle tower's majestic, heavy gate and breathed the free air of salty sea breeze and fresh crimson cherry blossoms, the night wind blew, quietly carrying the scholar Shen Zi's whispered, smiling voice:

"How was it? Did it feel good to leave claw marks on the rock of eternity?"

Lin Huan didn't turn around, nor did she respond with a voice transmission. She simply raised her head, gazing at the vast and free night sky above Inazuma City, illuminated by warm lights and cool starlight, and gently closed her eyes.

Claw marks might have remained, but the rock's coldness, its hardness, and the boundless loneliness it held within it, also deeply imprinted itself on her perception. This was a conversation without winners or losers, merely a conversation between two souls, each burdened by their pasts and convictions, reaching a mutual understanding tinged with regret and distance in absolute silence.

She put the talisman into her sleeve, as if sheathing a double-edged sword whose weight she knew, then walked down the long and cold stone steps, back to the warm, noisy and vibrant lights that belonged to the human world at the foot of the mountain.