Mr. Zhongli, we can't slack off anymore!

Ding--

The clear, resonant sound of metal clashing filled the silent room.

The blades met, sparking dazzling sparks.

The two forces clashed fiercely in the narrow space, creating a circle of tiny ripples visible to the naked eye.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye; most people's retinas only had time to capture a blurry interplay of light and shadow.

It was almost an instinctive reaction.

The traveler drew his sword precisely a split second before the silver blade was about to reach his neck.

The blade blocked the incoming, deadly blow with a steady, horizontal motion. Her arm trembled slightly from the sudden, immense force it absorbed.

Clarind's speed was extremely fast, and her strength was even greater than the Traveler's, causing the Traveler's blade to sink inch by inch.

It's so heavy.

Even though her power had been forced to increase by countless levels, she was still no match for Clarinde in a pure contest of strength.

The power of this chief duel agent is absolute suppression, the result of countless days and nights of rigorous training.

The traveler did not hesitate. Following the downward force of Clarind, she suddenly turned to the side, redirecting the unbearable force to an empty space at a very small angle, while she quickly withdrew and moved away.

Clarind did not pursue. She sheathed her sword and stood there, her eyes fixed on the black-robed man opposite her.

However, the traveler's black robe did not emerge unscathed from the clash. In the midst of the rapid dodge, the wide black fabric was sliced ​​open by Clorind's sword, leaving a long tear.

The tear revealed a Liyue-style outfit: dark blue fabric with tassels hanging from the waist that swayed gently.

"What on earth happened?!"

Funina's voice was filled with obvious panic.

In that instant, their positions had subtly reversed. The traveler who had been blocking Fryna's path was forced back, while Clarinde had somehow taken a steady half-step in front of Fryna, her rapier pointing diagonally at the ground, her figure like an insurmountable barrier.

The surrounding security guards only then belatedly realized what was happening. Their eyes all locked onto the traveler.

And Navelette finally lifted his gaze from the testimony book and turned it to the center of the sudden conflict. He said nothing, simply observing everything calmly.

“You…” Furnessa’s voice softened slightly: “You’re not the ‘Executioner’…you’re not Blanchard…”

She finally understood what was going on.

"Please step back." Clorind remained poised to strike again at any moment, her gaze never leaving the traveler.

Her first encounter with this "imposter" had already given her a preliminary assessment of his abilities: he was definitely not someone she could underestimate.

Under the gaze of dozens of eyes, the traveler slowly straightened up.

"Yes. I am not Brownshire."

She didn't argue, but untied the knot, pinched the top of the hood, and tore off the sweltering black fabric.

The humid, stuffy air instantly dissipated, and the cool theater breeze brushed against her sweaty forehead and cheeks. The traveler took a deep breath of the finally unobstructed oxygen, feeling her lungs cleansed by the crisp air.

Wearing a hood is so stuffy...

It feels so good to be able to breathe fresh air freely!

Her true face was exposed under the cold white light of the lamp. Her bangs were wet with sweat, sticking messily to her scalp, with a few strands hanging down to her brow bone.

"murderer!"

A heart-wrenching roar shattered the brief silence.

The middle-aged man who was stopped at the door by two uniformed men completely broke down the moment he saw the traveler's face.

His face was contorted with extreme anger, his eyes bloodshot. He suddenly broke free from the blockade and lunged at the traveler without regard for anything else.

That all-out attack had no technique involved; it was nothing but a ferocious act of mutual destruction.

The traveler did not dodge, but precisely struck the middle-aged man on the back of the neck with the back of his knife.

After a dull thud, the middle-aged man's forward momentum came to an abrupt halt, and he fell straight to the ground, motionless.

The room fell silent.

"Please be quiet, thank you," the traveler added politely.

Then, she raised her head, meeting everyone's gaze, and sheathed the knife in her hand: "I come from Liyue. I am employed by the Hall of Rebirth and have been ordered to go to the Seven Kingdoms to expand the business of the hall."

"His surname is Lü, and his given name is Ren."

Linni was the first to sense that subtle familiarity, silently murmuring the name: "Lu Ren".

Next up is Funina.

"You...you're called...Lu Ren?"

Her pupils dilated slightly, and her expression gradually shifted from bewilderment to certainty.

Clarinde turned to ask Frynn:

"You know her?"

“Ah…yes.” Funina’s voice was a little unsteady. She cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to sound more composed. “We’ve known each other for a very, very long time. A very long time.”

Five hundred years.

The traveler turned to the wider audience in the room and began to speak: "As for why I disguised myself and why I participated in this selection competition..."

"It all started with a magic trick."

She recounted the magic show she was unexpectedly caught up in, the rose that appeared out of thin air and the playing cards flying everywhere, the moment she was covered by a black cloth, the unfamiliar black robe and hood she wore when she opened her eyes again, and the middle-aged man's almost collapsing plea when he grabbed her arm, "Do you still want to save your son?"

……

"...That concludes the entire process."

After she finished speaking, the room fell into a brief silence.

"So that's how it is."

Funina's tone became lighter, and she took a step forward to stand beside the traveler.

"I knew it!" She raised her chin slightly. "How could someone I've known for five hundred years be a bad person!"

She spoke the words "five hundred years" softly and quickly, as if afraid that others would overhear the weight they carried.

Then, her voice lowered a few decibels, with a hint of guilt: "It's just... it's been so long, I didn't recognize you at first."

She glanced quickly at the traveler, then looked away: "You came to the opera house to see me, didn't you?"

Funina had signed a document outlining the legacy left by Fucarus, with the Lu people listed as the beneficiaries. In other words, the person before her had seen the true water god.

“Yes.” The traveler nodded, his voice softening slightly. “I heard your name on the street, so I went to the opera house. I saw you were busy, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

"Don't worry, I know about what happened in Fontaine. I understand," the traveler said, sensing Funina's intentions.

Fulina seemed relieved: "I didn't expect... uh... that the next time we met, you would be involved in a murder case."

"It's not necessarily a murder case."

Clarinde's voice broke the conversation. She had completely sheathed her sword, but remained alert.

"Based on the preliminary on-site investigation and post-mortem examination, Blanchard, the 'executioner' lady, died from a neck injury caused by a malfunction in the stage rigging system. No obvious signs of homicide were found at the scene."

Funina seemed to have figured something out, and suddenly spoke.

"Humph."

With her hands on her hips and chin slightly raised, she seemed to have stepped back five hundred years, sitting at the highest point of the Opiclie Opera House, overlooking the entire trial stage: "No, this is not an accident."

"This is a murder case."

She paused, letting the short sentence accumulate enough weight in the air, and then her gaze fell directly on the figure who seemed to have nothing to do with him.

"And the murderer—"

Funina raised her hand, her long, slender index finger pointing straight at Linni.

"It's the great magician, Linnie."

The air froze again.