Genshin Impact: Pool Character, Nirvana of the Demon God

"cooperate?"

Dixia raised her eyebrows slightly, her gaze sharp as a blade, staring silently at Rahman—there was no gullibility in her eyes, only a sharp scrutiny and a calmness honed by long years of trials.

Rahman nodded, his voice low but firm: "Indeed, it is cooperation. Admittedly, we do not see each other well: you see me as a stubborn and conservative remnant of the past, and I do not hide my alienation and wariness of the sanctimonious attitude of rainforest scholars."

"But at this moment, we are standing on the same scorched earth, and the same sword of Damocles is hanging over our heads—the royalists are our true common enemy, aren't they?"

Before the words were even finished, both Dixia and Seno's eyes sharpened, and a faint light seemed to flicker deep in their pupils, like starlight flashing across a dry riverbed.

indeed so.

Rainforest scholars revere the 'wisdom' bestowed by the Grass God and regard reason as their guiding principle; desert people, on the other hand, have worshipped the afterglow of the Red King for generations, believing in the truth that cannot be disguised under the scorching sun.

Their beliefs are vastly different, their rituals are incompatible, and even the wind blowing across the oasis and the desert seems to carry completely different auras.

But tonight, under the ever-lowering iron curtain of the Church and the raised scepter behind the sand-proof wall, the divine chasm that had stretched for millennia was quietly filled by an even more turbulent tide of fury—

That was the burning pain shared by the oppressed, the resolute last stand before the setting sun extinguished.

However, can trust be easily given when a crisis forces one to do so?

Even though the distinction between friend and foe is clear, their positions remain irreconcilable:

One side is rooted in classic texts and deductions, while the other's blood is filled with sandstorms and vows.

Rahman was incredibly perceptive; with just one glance, he noticed the hesitation flickering between the two men's brows.

He took a half step forward, his sand boots crunching over the gravel, his voice suddenly becoming steady and fervent: "The enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my best friend, but he can be a blade that stands shoulder to shoulder with me for the time being—and I, Rahman, have never stooped to taking advantage of others' misfortunes, much less to reveal my dagger to my allies before an alliance is formed."

His gaze swept over Dixia's resolute profile and Seno's cold jawline, each word as if carved into a rock face:

"If we really want to settle those old scores between the rainforest and the desert... please allow us to first tear off the veneer of the Church of Christ's hypocrisy, and then slowly recount them on the ruins."

The wind suddenly stopped.

The undulating silhouettes of the distant sand dunes are rendered into silent shadows under the moonlight, as if the entire desert is holding its breath and listening.

He looked up at the sky—where the radiance of the Crimson King's past journeys should have been, but now only a deep, dark blue remained.

The voice then slowed down, but grew heavier: "We have waited too long... long enough for the sun to dim, long enough for the earth to crack like dry bones, long enough for even memories to begin to weather away."

"Now, fate has personally handed this trump card to my hands—not a gift, but a mandate."

"As long as you are willing to lend a hand, and with the information provided by the scholars I kidnapped, we will have the opportunity to break through the sand barrier with lightning speed and step through that door that has been sealed for a hundred years!"

Dixia frowned, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the gilded hilt of the scimitar at her waist, her voice clear and cold like a spring striking stone: "Rahman, you are not a naive person."

“You should understand—you alone, even if you used the full strength of the Red Sand Tribe, could not shake the Order of the Church in the slightest.”

Even if... it's just half of its skeleton.

Rahman suddenly raised his hand, palm facing upwards, as if trying to catch a falling star: "That's precisely why we need to cooperate!"

"A lone wolf howling at the moon can hardly shake a mountain; but if a pack of lions leaps together—even if the odds of victory are less than one in ten thousand, it is enough to tear a bloody path!"

His gaze was intense, penetrating to the core: "And you, you have already prepared your spears and the sparks. You dare to lay your net under the very nose of the Council of the Church, you dare to let the truth quietly take root in the midst of prohibitions... This in itself is a trump card heavier than any contract."

In an instant, the campfire crackled softly, embers rose, casting a play of light and shadow on the three faces.

Before the wind rose, silence fell. Only the grains of sand rolled gently along the edge of the boot, like time patiently awaiting an answer.

After a long silence, Dixia spoke slowly, her voice low and clear, like a blade being drawn from its sheath:

“Rahman, your reasons are very compelling, even inspiring… but unfortunately—I still don’t believe you.”

She met his gaze without flinching: "As a fellow desert dweller, I know how fiercely the fire of the Red King burns in your heart. You revere Him, you are loyal to Him, and you would rather burn yourself than break an inch of your faith. That is why I am certain that you will never truly believe the words of the Grass God's people—even if those words are sweetened with honey, hidden in the classics, and come from the gentlest lips."

"You won't even grant the most basic trust to the offspring of that god... so why should we believe you'll stand by our side?"

Rahman's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, then he laughed loudly. There was no explanation in that laughter, only a kind of tragic openness: "That's because—you chose to walk with them! Dixia, we've known each other for twenty-seven years, drunk from the same spring, and watched over the same waning moon. I don't believe in the decrees of the grass god, but I believe in you—I believe in the light in your eyes, I believe in the direction your blade points, I believe in the soul of this land that you have never betrayed."

He stretched out his hand, palm up, the lines of which were rough like wind-eroded rock: "If you are willing to vouch for them, I will swear an oath for you—an oath not in the name of God, nor based on the law, but only between you and me, to that untarnished past."

Suddenly, a golden-red spark burst from the campfire.

In the distance, a night owl swept across the rugged black rocks, its wings moving silently.

Sino finally spoke, his voice calm yet as deep as a cold pool: "If you don't believe in the people of the Grass God, we don't need to believe your one-sided story."

The wind and sand swirled low, stirring up fine dust that floated like mist under the moonlight.

The foundation of trust has not yet been laid, and the hourglass of fate is already pouring down at an irreversible pace.

The idea of ​​cooperation hangs on the edge; it is neither a pipe dream nor has it been put into practice.

It resembles an unsheathed scimitar, gleaming with a faint yet sharp light in the darkness.

Rahman is undoubtedly a wise leader, but I always felt he was a bit arrogant...

One second they're thinking of being our enemy, the next they're proposing cooperation. It's reasonable to suspect this person has a split personality.

If it were just me, I probably would have already agreed to cooperate.

[It can only be said that each character in Sumeru has their own role in the main storyline and can be relied upon.]

[They're all masters of wits. If it weren't for Desia and Seno, we might have already agreed to cooperate. After all, one of Nasita's reasons for sending us here was to cooperate with the Gilded Troupe.]

At this moment, Ying nodded slightly, her clear voice particularly distinct in the cool night breeze: "It seems that neither of us can convince the other for the time being."

"Here's what we'll do—let us go back and discuss this further with our two other companions who haven't arrived yet."

Her gaze was calm and resolute: "If you are truly interested in cooperating, bring your trusted confidants to meet me tomorrow. The location will be deep in the desert—I will give you the coordinates later."

Before she finished speaking, she had already quietly put her hand behind her back, and with a light flick of her fingertips, she made a secret and swift gesture.

Seno and Dixia paused slightly, as if they wanted to say something but hesitated.

Although they did not understand its meaning, they keenly sensed that this seemingly conciliatory proposal actually concealed a scheme.

Ying's tone was calm, but her eyes showed no sign of wavering, clearly indicating that she had already given it considerable thought. The two exchanged a glance, but ultimately remained silent, suppressing their doubts.

Rahman lowered his eyes and pondered for a moment, tapping his knuckles lightly on his elbows twice. Finally, he raised his eyes and smiled slightly: "Alright. As you say."

Chaos has broken out within the Academy; a storm is brewing.

As the most steadfast inheritor of the Red King's faith and the actual leader of the underground forces, how could he let go of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to launch a counterattack?

The arrogance of rainforest scholars, the autocracy of royalists, the monopoly of knowledge... each and every one of these was a crack he had been waiting for for many years.

Cooperation? It's merely a stopgap measure to break the deadlock by leveraging external forces.

As for Dixia and her group—their positions and ideologies clash, but for now they can share a drink and wait until the high walls crumble and the old order collapses…

Then they would no longer be allies, but the first entity in the new order to be "redefined".

He watched the three figures gradually disappear into the shadows of the undulating sand dunes. The smile on his lips hadn't faded, but a cold, sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

……

In Aru Village, a campfire flickers, and stars hang low over the fields.

As soon as Ying and her group stepped into the village, they saw Elhesen already standing under the old banyan tree. He did not return empty-handed as everyone had expected; instead, his expression was somber, and his cuffs were covered with a little dust and dried moss.

It turned out that on the route that the royalist scholars would inevitably take during their hasty retreat, he discovered messy drag marks, several broken belt buckles, and—a half-buried metal conduit with a faint blue glow, buried deep in the sand.

He followed the trail carefully and found their abandoned device in a crevice of collapsed rocks: a finely crafted silver helmet with an inlaid crystal array and the edges etched with the long-lost Red King Inscription.

This is the core instrument used to extract and preserve "divine knowledge in a can".

"Uh... so, what exactly is this shiny helmet for?" Paimon curiously circled the device, his fingertips hovering in mid-air, too afraid to touch it.

Elheisen raised his eyes, his gaze as calm as an ancient well: "It's still unknown. But since it was hastily abandoned, it must not have been useless—"

"Keeping it is better than throwing it away."

"What if we need it later?"

Dixia ignored the device and turned to Ying, her brows furrowing slightly: "Let's put that aside for now. Ying, regarding the cooperation with Rahman... what exactly are your plans?"

Her voice was low and carried an undeniable weight: "I'm speaking frankly—I object. His gentle words now are only because the game is still in progress and the outcome is uncertain. Once the royalists fall, the first people he'll target are us."

Her gaze swept over the crowd in turn: "Sino, you were once the Grand Vigilante, the law-bearer personally appointed by the Grass God—in his eyes, you were a living monument to the old order, not a fellow traveler;"

"Elheisen, you are still the scribe of the Council of Religious Affairs, even if it exists in name only; that seal remains an indelible mark on you."

"As for Ying and Paimon... strangers in a foreign land, rootless duckweed. He may not take action immediately, but he will certainly not give you the slightest respect."

She paused for a moment, her voice growing increasingly somber: "So—even so, you're still willing to negotiate with a tiger for its skin?"

Ying and Paimon exchanged a glance, the latter nodding slightly. Ying then stepped forward, about to speak, when a soft yet undeniable azure halo suddenly bloomed—

Nasita emerged slowly from the void, her skirts brushing against the sand, as if carrying the tranquility and weight of the entire rainforest.

She looked at Dixia, her voice as soft as a sigh, yet each word clear: "Ying agreed to continue negotiating cooperation with Rahman, at my behest."

“Dishia, I understand your concerns and am well aware of the risks involved.”

She raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the tired yet resolute faces of the crowd: "But with just a few of us, and without my direct intervention, do we really think we can simultaneously shake the dual shadows of the Royalist faction and the Fools of the Church..."

"It's like trying to move a mountain with fireflies."

"Alliance with the followers of the Red King is not a compromise, but the only lever that can move the fulcrum in the quagmire of reality—it is in the fundamental interests of both parties and is the closest to the balance that can be achieved at present."

She lowered her head slightly, her fingertips lightly touching a dull red jade pendant on her chest. Her voice was a few decibels lower, but it sounded even more solemn: "Moreover, the systematic exclusion of the desert people by the Order of the Church was not something I created myself."