Genshin Impact: Pool Character, Nirvana of the Demon God

——Reality·Star's Live Stream

"Observe the world."

"Understanding the world".

"Finally—transform the world!"

The screen suddenly froze: the white-haired deity leaned back slightly, one slender hand lazily supporting his cheek, his left leg casually crossed over his right knee. His posture seemed nonchalant, yet it exuded an unshakeable divine pressure—an absolute presence that transcended time, laws, and all living beings.

A pair of scarlet eyes, as if forged in molten lava and as if congealed with blood from the abyss, gazed silently down at the camera.

That gaze seemed to pierce through dimensional barriers, reaching the most subtle corners of the soul's folds: blazing like the karmic fire that burns away falsehood, icy like the eternal frost that freezes cause and effect, and carrying with it supreme wisdom that sees through all things and judges the truth.

On one side of the image, ancient gilded seal script slowly emerges, its characters powerful and solemn: Red King—Akhmar

"Retrieving PV footage... If I remember correctly, this should be the last frame of the preview PV, right?"

As Xing opened the bento box, she spoke with a smile.

The moment the lid was lifted, a warm, fragrant aroma of rice and the sweet and savory scent of caramel-colored teriyaki sauce wafted out—

That was a bento box made by Kaffa herself, with a rich, glossy sauce, distinct grains of rice, and a soft-boiled egg that was half-cooked and half-runny, gleaming with an amber luster.

As always, she seamlessly integrated game streaming with impromptu mukbang (eating broadcast):

One second they were analyzing the foreshadowing of the world view, and the next they had taken a bite of a crispy seaweed roll, their cheeks puffed out and their eyebrows and eyes curved into crescents.

The barrage exploded instantly:

[I will not be a son of man!]

[It's not even mealtime yet, what right do you have to use food to mentally attack me?!]

[This aroma alone is making my mouth water three times...]

Xing glanced at the scrolling comments, chuckled, and said with a hint of slyness and a touch of self-righteousness, "Want some? Order takeout yourself!"

"This was made by my mother, and I won't lend it out—I won't even let you smell it!"

Who cares!

[You're being stubborn! Were you secretly swallowing just now?!]

[I have ordered eel rice. Please add double the sauce in the notes. Thank you.]

Despite their comments, the audience's actions spoke louder than words, as they picked up their phones to order takeout, causing a quiet surge in the app's backend data—the peak number of "Japanese food" orders on the takeout platform today quietly broke records.

Xing lightly clicked the mouse, about to continue the story, when the screen suddenly went dark without warning.

There were no transitions, no sound effects, only a deep, resonant hum, like the tremors of ancient earth veins—

The field of vision suddenly shifted:

The blue gale, like billions of sky-ripping blades, howled and cleaved through the air, swirling up tables, chairs, bookshelves, and shards of glass, shredding, throwing, and annihilating them all in the violent vortex!

Wherever the wind reached, the walls cracked, the floor was overturned, and even the light and shadows distorted and groaned... until the remaining force gradually subsided, leaving only a room full of mess and deathly silence.

The deep purple-haired youth lowered his hand, the fingertips still bearing traces of the lingering wind. He stood silently in the center of the ruins, his clothes fluttering slightly, his expression as indifferent as the first snow covering a blade.

—A wanderer.

The audience is already very familiar with this puppet who, due to a blood pact with the Doctor, hunts down the Doctor's slices all over the world:

Previously, Caesar and the Doctor's entire consciousness fragments fell into the Abyss of Dreams. The Wanderer, like a silent, cold light, traversed among countless broken bodies, cutting off the way back, so that even if his consciousness broke free from the dream, he would have no physical body to reside in.

But just now the camera was on the Crimson King standing at the top of the altar, how could it suddenly switch to here?

Xing's fingertip hovered above the mouse, and she paused slightly.

It's not that she dislikes the wandering swordsmen—it's just that the shocking confrontation between the main characters and the Red King in the previous plot hasn't unfolded yet, and the suspense is hanging by a thread.

But now that the perspective is there, let's dive in.

She chewed the last bite of teriyaki chicken, her gaze calmly sweeping over the ruins: "The rogue is cleaning up the Doctor's slices... This sudden attack on the place means there must be a 'Doctor' here."

She paused for a moment, then looked up at the profile of the boy sheathing his sword on the screen. Her speech slowed, her logic unfolding like a fine thread: "And the timing of his withdrawal just now..."

Suddenly she chuckled softly, tapping the screen with her fingertip, "Based on realistic logic—the floor of this room is most likely already soaked in warm, dark red soup."

He paused slightly, his smile deepening, with a hint of knowing teasing: "It can only be said that 12+ has once again limited miHoYo's performance."

[Wanderer! Wanderer baby, let Mommy hold you!]

Among the currently known characters, the wind element has the best storytelling potential.

[He can unleash a tornado with a mere wave of his hand; even Venti would have to ask him: "Are you the Anemo God or am I?"]

[But why did the camera cut to the ronin?]

[Soup and broth... Ah Xing, you're so good at describing things... Suddenly, the takeout I have isn't appetizing at all...]

The screen glowed with a cold, eerie light. The wanderer sat upright in the center of the screen, his fingertips holding a yellowed, curled map.

The paper was covered with ink-stained marks—red circles, arrows, and scribbled annotations—like a silent, spreading network of death.

He slowly drew a silver-core fountain pen, paused for a moment, and then decisively drew two sharp, intersecting "x"s on one of the scarlet marks. The ink was not yet dry, but it already conveyed an undeniable sense of finality.

“Another one…” he whispered, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against rust, “Let me see where the next one is.”

The camera panned slightly, switching to an observer's perspective—Xing leaned against the shadows, her fingertips lightly tapping the armrest, gazing at the menacing figure on the screen, and couldn't help but click her tongue: "Tsk... For the Doctor's fragment, who now has no power to even protect himself, how can this be considered finding a way?"

“It’s clearly like checking in before the King of Hell—one name, one checkmark, the ink on the Book of Life and Death is still wet.” Her eyes dimmed slightly. “I hope… the person hasn’t ‘passed away’ yet.”

But "death" is ultimately the most certain end point in this hunt.

All they could pray for was for the pine trees to remain evergreen before their graves, for the tombstones to be dust-free, and for the wind to pass silently.

Even though it was just a single frame of flashback, Xing still clearly captured the map—the dense cross marks had long since overlapped into a glaring gray-white, as if the entire piece of paper was being eroded away by death stroke by stroke.

Clearly, the wanderer never returned empty-handed from this hunt; every intersection marked a point where he shattered his old fate and drew closer to the end.

In the scene, he puts away the map and gets up to leave—before his boot heels leave the ground, a sudden change occurs!

His expression suddenly hardened, his pupils contracted sharply, and a blue wind wheel burst open from his back like two ancient runes tearing through the air.

His body transformed into a tearing streak of light, retreating violently. Before the afterimage dissipated, the ground where he stood collapsed with a deafening roar.

The ground cracked, bricks and stones tumbled, and shockwaves flew in a ring, leaving a huge depression more than three feet deep in the center, with charred and cracked edges. The aftershocks continued to rumble.

"Oh?" A voice rang out, calm to the point of laziness, yet carrying a chilling intent like an ice blade scraping through bone. "You actually... dodged it?"

The camera then slowly pans, zooms in, and focuses—

Studded boots crunched on the gravel, and black trousers draped down like the night sky.

The pure white cloak billowed inexplicably in the still room, a cold arc of light flashing past the hem;

The mask covered her face, its lines as sharp and cold as if carved by a knife, concealing her expression, leaving only a pair of deep, dark eyes, still as a deep pool, yet with undercurrents surging beneath; her light blue medium-length hair fell over her shoulders, gleaming with a metallic sheen under the backlight of the camera.

The most breathtaking shadow currently looming over the continent of Teyvat—

The doctor personally attended.

[Born and arriving.]

[Is this because they were worried about the fragments being completely wiped out, so the true entity descended personally? This must be the true entity, right?]

[↑If there are no survivors, this should be the real person.]

Although the character design is a bit rudimentary, the modeling is still quite good.

"Dotore!"

The wanderer hovered in mid-air, his robes fluttering in the turbulent air, his eyes blazing with an intense, unyielding hatred. His teeth clenched, he uttered the forbidden name, each word deliberate and deliberate.

It was as if every syllable was tempered with blood and fire.

Although "Dotole" may not be the doctor's real name, at this moment, the name is no longer a title, but an imprint, a verdict, and the lingering words of a deceased friend.

The wanderer had no other thoughts but one unwavering conviction: to swear an oath with his blade, to offer his life as a sacrifice, to seek justice for Danba...

"Hearing your warm greeting, I really thought we were old friends, Demon Doll."

The doctor stood in the void, his face covered by a silver mask, only the corners of his lips slightly upturned, forming a smile that was neither a smile nor a frown. That smile did not reach his eyes, but was like a cold current surging beneath the ice, both disdainful and dangerous.

The rogue remained unmoved, his face as cold and stern as ancient iron, his voice low and sharp: "Logically speaking, all the fragments of consciousness should have been guided by Caesar to the depths of the dream..."

"But you stand here unharmed."

His gaze was like a knife, piercing straight into the depths of the other person's pupils—

"Therefore, there is only one answer: you are not a projection, not an echo, and not a fake... you are the real Dotole."

Upon hearing this, the doctor gently clapped his hands, the clear applause echoing three times in the deathly silence, neither hurried nor slow.

"Ah—you truly deserve a round of applause." He nodded slightly, his tone languid yet laced with a sharp edge. "I originally thought that a demonic puppet, who only knew how to act recklessly, was nothing more than a delicate marionette..."

"I never expected that such an accurate conclusion could be drawn."

He leaned slightly forward, his voice low and seductively playful:

“I have stepped out from behind the curtain and appeared before you—I wonder if this is enough to make you…feel honored?”

The wanderer suddenly chuckled softly, a short, hoarse laugh that abruptly tore through the air—

“Glory?” He slowly raised his eyes, the smile on his lips suddenly twisting, and a dark blue flame ignited deep in his pupils. “Compared to glory… what I feel is the rush of blood and the trembling of bone marrow… excitement.”

"Excited?" The doctor raised an eyebrow, gazing at him with great interest, as if examining a rare weapon about to awaken.

The rogue's smile shattered completely, transforming into a ferocious and fiery totem of vengeance:

"Excitement—because I've finally waited for this moment! Finally... I can personally sever your head and avenge Niwa... the blood debt!"

Before he finished speaking, the wind ring behind him suddenly surged, and azure light poured down like a waterfall, tearing through the sky!

He burst forth with lightning speed, his afterimage barely fading before he arrived, cutting through the wind with his arms like blades, unleashing a series of sharp, incomparably fierce cyan wind blades that sliced ​​through the air and emitted a piercing buzzing sound!

The fierce wind howled like a thousand blades, rushing towards him, even cutting a strand of hair that fell across the doctor's forehead, causing a slight stinging sensation on his skin.

He merely narrowed his eyes, his smile deepening, and softly uttered two words:

"……interesting."

In the blink of an eye, two figures passed each other—silently, without a sound, only the muffled sound of air collapsing remained.

The wanderer's pupils suddenly contracted, his Adam's apple bobbed violently, and all color drained from his face, leaving only disbelief and astonishment.

"but……"

The doctor had his back to him, his robe sleeves fluttering slightly, his voice calm to the point of being gentle.

"This reunion ends here."

As soon as he finished speaking, the dazzling halo behind the wanderer suddenly dimmed, shattered, and vanished like smoke.

His body stiffened, then, like a puppet with broken strings, he plummeted straight down into the boundless abyss below—

The wind howled, as if heaven and earth themselves held their breath.

[One-hit kill?]

[We didn't even see him make a move.]

The gap in strength is huge.

[Wanderer! Let Mom hug you!]

[The rogue killed the doctor's dissections like slaughtering dogs, yet the doctor only needed one move to defeat him?]

The top three seats of the Fools are comparable to gods, on par with their elder brothers, so it's not surprising that they possess such power.

The doctor moved with lightning speed, catching the wanderer who was falling from the sky. His fingertips trembled slightly, as if he were weighing a rare treasure. He lowered his eyes to gaze at the unconscious figure in his arms, a slight smile playing on his lips, and whispered as if in murmur: "Excellent experimental material... we can't let it go to waste."

Xing's pupils constricted sharply in front of the screen. He slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly, speaking rapidly into the live stream: "Brothers! I'm getting chills—this inhuman doctor is probably going to target us, the Wanderer!"

Unfortunately, it came true.

The camera suddenly shifts: the wanderer is still in the doctor's arms, and the scene has already cut to the deep dome of the Church House. Between the pillars where cold light flows, the giant purple mech that once made a stunning appearance stands once more—its metal joints gleam with a cold light, and the patterns on its shoulder armor pulsate slightly as if it were alive.

With a swift and decisive movement, the Doctor tossed the rogue into the mech's chest. A muffled boom echoed as the cockpit roof swung open—a dark red light poured out, and inside, floating runes spun ceaselessly, densely packed with forbidden and scorching theological circuits, like the maw of an abyss waiting to devour wills.

The wanderer fell silently in, and the hatch closed instantly, shutting completely, as if swallowed whole.

The doctor stepped forward slowly, his fingertips lightly tapping the cold armor, his voice deep and pleasant: "This supreme divine power... is just missing a wielder who can fully awaken the 'Heart of God'."

He paused, his smile deepening, and said meaningfully, "And you, of all people, have come to me of your own accord—I should really thank you."

The camera slowly zooms in from below, the upward angle outlining his tall and imposing silhouette. Beneath the silver mask, the corners of his mouth are slightly upturned, the curve as bright as the rising sun, yet devoid of any warmth, only a chilling control and an unquestionable coldness.

The screen suddenly went black.

Just as Xing held his breath, thinking the final chapter was over—

A soft glow spread out, and the screen slowly lit up.

Amidst the rosy clouds and drifting mist, the space is gentle and tranquil—a long-awaited secret realm deep within the roots of the World Tree.

A cluster of crimson-gold flames suddenly ignited, pulsating like a heartbeat.

In the center of the flames, a tall, slender figure sat cross-legged, dressed in pristine white robes, his white hair cascading down like a waterfall, his crimson eyes just opening, as if molten lava were gushing forth from their depths—

Nirvana Demon God, Jun Bai.

"Ah!!! Brother Bai—!!!"

Xing's voice cracked instantly, and she jumped up and down in excitement. Her goose-like honking broke through the door and echoed in the corridor for a long time.

The barrage of comments had already exploded into a crimson torrent, with the screen filled with phrases like "tears welling up," "my youth is back," and "a miracle has occurred."

At that very moment, a line of gilded ancient seal script quietly appeared in the lower right corner of the image, each character silent yet carrying immense weight:

[Chapter 3, Act 4: The King of the Red Earth and the Wise Men of Three Dynasties – The End]

"No way—!!! Stopping the story at this crucial moment?!"

The star's wailing was heart-wrenching, causing the windowpanes to tremble slightly.