[GI:CIC] C9. Liam’s Divine Debate

Liyue Harbor glittered under the night sky, its status as Teyvat's bustling trade heart evident in the lantern-lit streets teeming with merchants, travelers, and restless nightlife.

Since arriving in Liyue, Liam had holed up in his Internet cafe, pouring his days into its opening, too wary of his own frailty to explore beyond its safe walls.

Now, armed with Dante's power, he ventured out, marveling at a city far grander than its game version, its sprawling architecture and warm humanism wrapping him in a nostalgic embrace akin to his old world's ancient past.

Foreign faces dotted the crowd—Fontaine traders, Snezhnayan envoys—lending the streets a vibrant, Tang Dynasty-esque sleepless energy that stirred his wanderlust.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind: what if he'd landed in his homeland's Tang era instead, a place where a weak golden finger might've left him dead within days?

Liyue felt safer, its peace assured under Zhongli's watchful gaze, a haven for a stranger like him as long as he steered clear of trouble or the abyss's dark taboos.

He ambled through the throng, his stomach rumbling, and set his sights on Wanmin Hall, craving a hearty supper to cap his triumphant first day.

Xinyue Pavilion tempted him with its refined dishes, but its reservation list barred entry, leaving Wanmin Hall's affordable, bustling charm as the night's victor.

Unlike the game's quaint stall manned by Master Mao and Xiangling, the real Wanmin Hall towered as a three-story culinary fortress, its kitchens alive with chefs trained under Mao's seasoned hand.

Fate nudged him as he spotted Zhongli near the entrance, his amber eyes catching the light, and Liam called out, "Mr. Zhongli, here for supper too? Join me if you'd like—I'm buying!"

Zhongli inclined his head with a polite smile, "Very well, I'd be delighted," his tone smooth as ever, though Liam wondered if this meeting was truly chance or something more deliberate.

They secured a small private room, the air soon thick with the scent of tea as Liam ordered a spread of dishes, settling in to chat with the Geo Archon over steaming cups.

Zhongli sipped his tea, then leaned forward slightly, his voice laced with curiosity, "Tell me, Liam, what sort of world is your hometown? I find myself intrigued by its nature."

Liam cradled his cup, a wistful glint in his eye as he replied, "It's strikingly like Liyue—its ancient days, at least—with buildings, customs, and foods that feel like echoes of home."

He paused, then continued, "But there's no Celestia, no gods—just humans ruling it all, no divine laws to guide or bind us, for better or worse."

"My life there was set to be ordinary, another face in the crowd, until a twist of fate flung me across worlds, landing me here in Teyvat," he added, his tone steady with a rehearsed ease.

He'd crafted this tale—a mundane man from a godless realm, stumbled into adventure—to fit his outsider status without raising too many flags.

Zhongli's brows lifted, intrigued, "A world with no gods, no heavenly principles, entirely in human hands? How do mortals fare without divine oversight?"

Liam knew this struck a chord—Zhongli was edging toward retirement, plotting Liyue's shift to human rule, and this glimpse of a godless land held his full attention.

He sighed, his voice dipping, "Humans grow through conflict—wars between nations, brothers turning on brothers, a cycle of chaos stretching back millennia."

"In my homeland's history, dynasties rose and fell every few centuries, leaving famine and ruin in their wake; only my generation tasted peace and plenty," he explained somberly.

"Without a god's sword overhead, human greed runs wild, darker than any demon's heart—nature's worst impulses unchecked," he said, meeting Zhongli's gaze.

"That's why I envy Liyue," he went on, "Under a guide like you, humanity bends toward good, its evils restrained by a steady hand few worlds ever know."

His words subtly unveiled Zhongli's identity, a quiet nod to the Rock King's reign, and Zhongli didn't blink, accepting the recognition with calm grace.

The Archon pondered, his expression clouding as he weighed Liam's tale against his own plans, "A world of human rule so fraught with strife—does it always end so?"

He mused aloud, "Kanria's fall proves it, doesn't it? War and abyss-tainted folly—then Mondstadt's nobles, wreaking havoc in Barbatos's absence."

"Without a worthy god to steer them, humans do wield a fearsome knack for chaos," he conceded, his voice heavy with the weight of centuries.

Liam's story struck home—Zhongli's dream of stepping back wasn't a full retreat; he'd linger in the shadows, a safeguard against humanity's reckless potential.

"Your words carry truth," Zhongli sighed, "Perhaps that's why I can't fully release Liyue—guidance and restraint may be humanity's silent needs."

The private room's door slid open, a server bustling in with steaming platters, interrupting their weighty exchange with the promise of a feast.

They shifted to lighter fare—gossip of Liyue's markets, tales of odd travelers—letting the serious air dissolve into the clink of chopsticks and shared laughter.

Liam savored the meal, the flavors grounding him, though Zhongli's probing lingered in his mind, a reminder of the delicate dance he played with Teyvat's powers.

His Dante-enhanced strength thrummed beneath his skin, a secret bolstered by the day's 20,000 Mora and 3,300 emotional points, gifts from his cafe's chaotic pull.

This supper wasn't just a meal—it was a step into Liyue's beating heart, a chance to gauge Zhongli's mind while cementing his place in this divine-guided world.

The night stretched on, Wanmin Hall's clamor a comforting backdrop, and Liam felt Teyvat's vastness shrink just a little, his roots sinking deeper with every bite.

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