Genshin Impact: Pool Character, Nirvana of the Demon God

Naxida gently crossed her arms, her fingertips drooping slightly, her sleeves fluttering in the wind, her expression calm and resolute.

She looked at Ying and Paimon, her voice clear and melodious like morning dew in the forest, yet carrying an undeniable weight: "Regardless of whether the gilded caravan that Desia found ever abducted those royalist scholars in the desert—"

"I must meet them in person."

She paused briefly, her gaze clear and profound: "This is not out of concern for the royalists, but because we desperately need reinforcements."

A gentle breeze rustled through the cherry blossom branches. A warm yet sharp smile appeared on her lips: "Sino, Elhesen, Dixia, and you—Luminous and Paimon—are all my most trusted and reliable partners."

"There's no doubt about that."

However, his smile faded, and his tone turned serious: "But it is unwise for just a few of us to attempt to face the full force of the royalists."

“You should have deeply realized from that chase across the rainforest before that the disparity in numbers cannot be easily overcome by willpower or skill alone.”

Ying nodded, his brows furrowed with a somber, mountain-like expression: "Before we acquire the 'qualitative power' to rewrite the course of the war, our military strength is an insurmountable obstacle before us that we cannot bypass or overcome."

She frowned slightly, her voice low and slow yet carrying great weight: "No matter how outstanding an individual's combat strength is, there is always a limit."

"When thousands of troops surge in like an endless tide, even the sharpest sword will dull, and even the strongest will will tire, until they are completely swallowed up by endless consumption."

Her eyes dimmed slightly, as if she were recalling the scene at the Ziwei Star Palace: at that time, she and Yi Ya were like stars falling from the sky, invincible and defeated more than a thousand rebels.

But when the last sword light faded, exhaustion clung to him like iron chains, and he was finally bound by the swarming chains, imprisoned in the darkness.

The exact number of troops controlled by the royalists is unknown. However, the figure of a thousand men is likely just the tip of the iceberg.

That is why Naxida's words hit the nail on the head—to try to confront an overwhelming force with sheer courage is tantamount to throwing an egg against a rock.

Paimon sighed softly, her little hands unconsciously clenching the hem of her skirt, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing the air:

"Although... I really don't want to admit it... we are indeed... helpless in the face of such an overwhelming army."

She suddenly looked up, her eyes shining brightly with a hint of childlike confusion and uncertainty: "But Nasita, you are the Goddess of Grass! The real Demon God!"

"Even if one is not skilled in warfare, is the chasm between demons and mortals... easily crossed?" She tilted her head and asked earnestly.

[Second Brother: What is she saying?]

[Big Brother: I don't know.]

[↑These two are professional mortals who slay demons.]

However, to be fair, the gap between demons and mortals is indeed still quite large.

[↑How do we explain Heuria, the salt goddess who can be single-handedly killed by mortals, and the elegant lady picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence?]

[↑Lingya: Why are you looking at me? I'm a piece of trash!]

Nasita listened quietly, then nodded gently, her silver hair gleaming softly in the setting sun: "Yes, I am not skilled in combat."

"But if we only talk about 'dissolving' the military force that the royalists rely on... it is not difficult for me."

Changing the subject, she shrugged with a hint of helplessness, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the vine patterns hanging from her chest: "The problem is—they are neither enemy soldiers nor invading forces from the Abyss..."

“They are the citizens of Sumeru City, ordinary people who once lived, studied, prayed, and made a living under my protection.”

Her tone was gentle, yet it weighed heavily on my heart: "As for me... I have very little practical experience. Once I make a move, I may not be able to accurately control my power—at best, I will suffer serious injuries, at worst... I will perish and my cultivation will be extinguished."

Her bright eyes suddenly lit up, as if clearing away the clouds: "So, what you're really worried about is accidentally hurting the innocent, and you don't want the bloodline of Sumeru to bleed under your authority?"

Nasita nodded deeply, her eyelashes drooping, revealing a hint of unspoken heaviness.

Ying then continued, "Precisely because you didn't want to commit too much bloodshed, you chose not to take action personally; but with just a few of us, we are powerless to turn the tide of the battle—"

"So you turn your gaze to the distance: a force that roams under the scorching sun and red sand, a gilded brigade that worships the Red King, is unruly, yet deeply understands the laws of the desert and the way of survival."

Naxi Da smiled gently, raised her hand and clapped her hands lightly, her voice as clear as a bell: "Well done."

Ying and Paimon exchanged a glance, their tacit understanding unspoken.

After a moment of silence, Paimon pursed his lips, his expression suddenly becoming extremely solemn.

She tilted her head up, her gaze fixed directly on Nasita's eyes: "Your plan is logically sound and impeccable... but I still have one question—"

Her voice was soft yet clear: "As you've traveled along this journey, you've witnessed firsthand how the desert people's alienation from the grass god is etched into the wind, sand, and songs."

"They revered the Red King as the blazing sun, and feared the Grass God as distant fog..."

"You, as the 'god of wisdom,' have entered their camp seeking an alliance—is this a truly viable step?"

Nasida nodded and said, "That is indeed a problem."

"But actually I didn't expect to accomplish this in one go. If I had to describe it, it was more like a casual move."

Naxida smiled slightly and said, "The prerequisite for us needing reinforcements from the desert is that the royalists can truly control all the troops in Sumeru City."

"But...they won't succeed."

Meeting their questioning gazes, Narcida smiled slightly and said, "Caesar was indeed the core of the reformers, but..."

"I never said he was the only core player."

……

In the depths of the tower of the Papacy in Sumeru City, Caesar's office stood quietly in the afternoon sun.

The oak door was half-closed, and a halo of light, like fine dust, floated between the window frames. The air was filled with the scent of old book pages, ink, and a faint, bitter aroma of herbs.

“Although I was mentally prepared… the sheer volume is still too much—” Laila’s fingertips trembled slightly as her gaze swept over the mountain of documents on her desk that seemed about to collapse:

The files were stacked layer upon layer, with curled edges and dense red annotations on the covers, like a swarm of ants. The topmost file, the "Seventh Draft Amendment to the Decree," was even slightly bent up, like a weary bird that was about to take flight.

Her voice was so soft it was almost a sigh, the last syllable sinking into her throat, carrying the hoarseness and exhaustion unique to those who have stayed up all night.

If this were to happen every day, she simply couldn't understand how her teacher, Caesar, managed to complete all these paperwork tasks every day and still have time to tidy up his desk.

It's impossible to finish... it's simply impossible to finish.

The thought entwined around her heart like a vine, but it did not slow her down in the slightest.

She turned the pages with her left hand and held a pen in her right, the ink flowing like a blade in the annotation column, her handwriting clear and swift.

After processing each stack, gently push the edges with your fingertips to make the sheets neat and tidy, as if cut with a knife, and then carefully stack them into the corresponding filing compartment.

The movements were so precise they were almost instinctive, as if the fingers had already memorized the weight, thickness, and breathing rhythm of each document.

At this rate, clearing everything out is only a matter of time.

She had previously felt unable to complete it. Not because of the sheer size of the task, but because of the tension in her heart that had been building up for too long: self-doubt clung to her like a shadow, silently eroding every inch of her certainty.

This had long become a habitual whisper ingrained in her bones, unnoticed even by herself—it had quietly grown into a second skin, covering all her efforts.

All she knew was: she had to be faster. Even faster.

The Church cannot be shut down, and the reformers cannot be silenced. At this moment, the balance of power is hanging by a thread.

Just as she bent down again, and stray hairs fell across her forehead, obscuring her eyelashes—

"Squeak."

The office door was gently pushed open.

Mingyuan stood with his hands behind his back, the hem of his black robe brushing against the threshold, his brows displaying his usual coldness; Meng Jianyue Ruixi stood quietly beside him, her white skirt spotless, a jade ring on her finger gleaming with a warm glow; Zhuge Xun leaned lazily against the doorframe, his folding fan half-open, a few strokes of scribbled cloud patterns painted on its surface, a hint of mockery and nonchalance on his lips.

As his gaze swept over the towering mountain of documents, Zhuge Xun sighed, “Oh dear—this scene really makes me feel like I’m back in the days when I was one of the Seven Stars… Thankfully, it’s not me buried in this pile of papers.”

Mingyuan rolled his eyes without any politeness: "Stop talking nonsense. Are you just itching for a fight? Why don't you go help Laila relieve some of her burden?"

Zhuge Xun immediately bowed deeply, displaying a dignified manner: "True Lord Bai Ze, you are wise enough to see the truth! It is not that I am unwilling to serve, but rather—"

He snapped his fan shut and pressed it against his chest, his tone suddenly turning solemn: "Obstructing the royalists from consolidating real power in the Church of Jesus Christ was personally ordered by His Excellency Caesar. How could we dare to neglect such an important task?"

"Is it fun to play with those royalist fools?" Mingyuan raised an eyebrow, his words sharp.

“Chao—interesting.” Zhuge Xun blurted out, then raised his hand and fanned himself lightly twice, a smile on his face. “Interesting as it may be… but I, Zhuge Xun, have always been ‘playful’ but not ‘despondent’.”

“I have been diligently working to prevent the royalists from consolidating power while Caesar is not currently in power.”

Laila looked up at the sound, her hairpin slightly loosened, and a strand of black hair slipped down her cheek. She almost ran out from behind the mountain of documents, her hands instinctively tightening around the folds of her skirt, her voice urgent but trying hard to remain calm: "Senior Mingyuan! Teacher Zhuge! I beg you both... we really can't argue anymore now!"

Her throat tightened slightly, her gaze sweeping over the three of them, each word clear and heavy: "Teacher Caesar remains unconscious, and Little Lucky Grass King has already gone alone to the desert to seek help..."

“Now, within the Academy, only a few of us can uphold the backbone of the reformists. If you two start arguing again…” Her fingertips unconsciously dug into her palms, “I… I really don’t know what to do.”

Mingyuan and Zhuge Xun exchanged a glance for a moment.

After a three-second silence, the two shrugged simultaneously.

“I never really intended to argue.” Zhuge Xun waved his fan, a faint smile on his face. “After all—” He looked up at the deepening twilight outside the window, “the situation is, to say it is ‘not optimistic’ would be an understatement.”

Mingyuan nodded, his tone softening: "You're lacking someone in charge, and I certainly won't make things difficult for you." He paused briefly, glancing sideways at Zhuge Xun, "Just now, I was merely routinely exposing someone's laziness."

Zhuge Xun shrugged, looking completely unconcerned: "So what if you expose me? Anyway, it doesn't hurt me."

Lies don't hurt, but the truth is the sharpest knife.

If I laugh long enough, act lazy enough, and pretend convincingly enough... it will always just be a joke, not a knife.

(What he didn't say was: This laziness is real.)

Laiira let out a long sigh of relief, and the heavy stone in her chest finally loosened a little.

She turned to Mingyuan and Ruixi, her fingertips gently smoothing a fine wrinkle on her sleeve, her voice soft yet resolute: "Senior Mingyuan, Sister Ruixi... how is Teacher...?"

Mingyuan's tone was calm, his gaze slightly narrowed: "The nutrient solution has been prepared and is being administered intravenously to him. You don't need to worry that Caesar's body will not go into shock due to energy depletion."

He shook his head slightly, a hint of helplessness flashing across his brow: "But... this is all we can do."

"After all, this is neither a disease nor an injury; it goes beyond the boundaries of medicine and beyond the scope of conventional diagnosis and treatment."

Meng Jianyue Ruixi slowly stepped forward, her long silver-gray hair shimmering faintly in the dim light. She lightly touched her forehead with her fingertips, and a layer of hazy mist rose in her eyes: "I have used the 'Dream-Tracing Eyes' of the Dream Eater clan to investigate Mr. Caesar's condition—his consciousness has indeed left his body and is detached from reality."

She paused, her voice clear and resolute: "If one uses dream-entering techniques to trace the faint 'spiritual network' between consciousness and the physical body in reverse, theoretically, one could locate the realm where consciousness resides. However..."

She frowned slightly, her fingertips slowly dropping: "It's not that I can't locate him, but rather—his consciousness has actively erected a barrier. Every fold of the dream repels my perception, as if saying: 'Do not approach, this place is not to be disturbed.'"

"In other words, it's not that he can't wake up, but that he doesn't want to. As long as the hidden dangers left by the doctor remain unresolved, he will not return on his own initiative."

Laila listened quietly, her fingers unconsciously tightening the hem of her clothes. Although she had a premonition, she still trembled slightly like a candle flame touched by the wind.

She sighed softly, her voice trembling with a barely perceptible sob: "...Yes, thank you."

Then, she looked up at a point in the void and murmured to herself, like a devout prayer: "Teacher, you must return safely..."

Zhuge Xun chuckled softly, snapping his jade-shaped folding fan shut and gently tapping the top of her head: "Silly child, concern makes you confused."

He looked up at the towering dome of the Order of the Fathers, his voice calm yet firm: "Have you ever seen your teacher do something that had no chance of success?"

"What you should do now is not to wait by his bedside, but to protect the foundation of reform that he has poured his heart and soul into building."

"Don't wait until he returns under the moonlight to find a silent and desolate academy—the entire court of civil and military officials are filled with only the echoes of the royalists reverberating in the empty hall."

Laila took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slightly. Her eyes were still wet with tears, but a stubborn flame had already ignited within them.

She straightened her back, her voice clear and solemn:

"Yes! I will hold on to it—perhaps I haven't reached the level of my teacher yet, but I am confident that I can maintain the status quo and solidify the foundation!"