Sparks of Innovation

Mondstadt's streets glowed under a crisp midday sun, its cobblestones alive with the murmur of readers still reeling from Pupils of the Gu King as breezes carried whispers of freedom.

Ye Ruo had been the intended maestro of this literary storm, his tale of Barbatos's rise meant to soothe the city's soul and cement his legacy as a storyteller.

Yet Anthony, a humble bookstore clerk with a frail sister and a heart of quiet grit, emerged as the unexpected thread of kindness in Ye Ruo's day, his gratitude a spark that lit a deeper purpose.

His hope—forged in hardship, a mirror to Mondstadt's enduring spirit—wavered as the Wind Dragon's chaos and the Fools' schemes cast shadows over a city still basking in its novel's glow.

The plaza shimmered with life, its air thick with the scent of fresh ink and the faint sweetness of dandelions drifting on a restless wind.

Bookstores stood proud—[Wind and Bird] branches gleamed, their wooden signs swaying gently, lanterns casting a warm haze over scattered readers.

Crowds thinned—nuns clutched tear-streaked pages, merchants debated the boy's fate, voices tinged with awe and sorrow.

Ye Ruo strolled—wind tugged his cloak, his Anemo Vision a steady pulse against the dark leather of his tunic.

"Freedom—earned," he murmured, gaze soft.

A nun sniffed—"Barbatos—gentle," she whispered.

A boy sat on a crate—"Boy—missed," he sighed.

The tale lingered—Old Mond's ash settled, new life bloomed.

Barbatos played—strings sang, ice melted.

Mountains fell—peaks crashed, seas rose.

Plains stretched—green sprouted, Mond reborn.

"City—free," a smith read, voice thick.

Gurnhild vowed—sword gleamed, oath rang.

"Forever—guard," she swore, night echoed.

Readers smiled—tears dried, pride swelled.

Ye Ruo paused—bookstore loomed, door ajar.

Anthony bowed—"Thanks—Master," he stammered.

His eyes shone—gratitude warmed, hands clasped.

"Sister—better?" Ye Ruo asked, tone light.

"Medicine—works," Anthony beamed, voice cracked.

Ye Ruo grinned—"Good—stay," he urged.

Anthony nodded—"Pay—next," he insisted.

"Kind—stubborn," Ye Ruo chuckled, wind stirred.

The system chimed in his mind—panel flared.

He smirked—ten chests gleamed, luck called.

[Ding, acquired: Slippers (Otherworldly), 10,000 Mora, Coke x1, First Mora, 25,000 Mora, Black Bread x10, Nianghua Spring, 20,000 Mora, Magic Crystal Cannon Blueprint, Sweet Tofu Brain x2.]

Ye Ruo blinked—"Slippers—really?" he muttered.

Coke fizzed—memories teased, taste longed.

"Nianghua—odd," he mused, brow arched.

[Description: Soak to shift—man to girl, hot water reverts, cold water swaps.]

"Strange—keep," he decided, stash grew.

First Mora gleamed—Morax's mark, history held.

"Bread—rocks," he groaned, hardness mocked.

Tofu beckoned—sweet won, comfort savored.

"Blueprint—power," he noted, eyes sharp.

[Magic Crystal Cannon Blueprint: Otherworldly design, crafts a weapon of devastating might; powered by magic spars, adaptable to Teyvat's crystals.]

"Alchemists—next," he planned, steps turned.

A subplot stirred—wind shifted, chaos loomed.

"Dragon—stirs," he sensed, elements clashed.

Caravans faltered—gales howled, Mond trembled.

"Fools—watch," he warned, gaze narrowed.

Lady schemed—Goethe Hotel pulsed, shadows crept.

"Pantalone—gold," he muttered, Rich Man loomed.

Ye Ruo strode—wind surged, city blurred.

Knights' headquarters loomed—stone walls gleamed, banners snapped.

Sugar tinkered—lab hummed, vials glowed.

"Gran—here?" he called, door creaked.

She turned—goggles gleamed, hair tousled.

"Ye Ruo—rare," she grinned, tools paused.

"Blueprint—study," he urged, paper unrolled.

Her eyes widened—"Cannon—magic?" she gasped.

"Crystals—test," he nodded, wind pulsed.

"Electro—maybe," she mused, notes scribbled.

A twist struck—wind roared, windows rattled.

"Dragon—close!" a knight yelled, boots pounded.

Ye Ruo dashed—roof gained, sky darkened.

Teostra soared—wings beat, storm swelled.

Poison streaked—scales dulled, eyes wild.

Knights rallied—Kaeya's tigers growled.

"Hold—archers!" he barked, ice flared.

Arrows flew—wind twisted, dragon dodged.

Ye Ruo's bow bloomed—cyan arrows pierced.

"Down—calm!" he shouted, gusts howled.

Teostra wailed—poison ebbed, faltered.

Sugar gaped—"Power—wild," she breathed.

"Help—test," he grinned, blueprint waved.

She nodded—"Crystals—now," she vowed.

Mondstadt shook—dragon slept, winds eased.

A subplot brewed—Lady crept, hotel pulsed.

"Doctor—gifts," she purred, vial gleamed.

Rosalia shadowed—"Fools—move," she hissed.

Ye Ruo turned—"Church—check," he barked.

Cathedral loomed—spires cut the sky.

Fools slipped—nuns screamed, shadows danced.

Lady stood—water gleamed, cruel grace.

"Harp—mine," she sneered, cage bloomed.

Ye Ruo's gale roared—wind shredded, clashed.

Hydro lashed—ice met water, frost spread.

Rosalia struck—spear grazed, blood dripped.

"Light—burns," Lady taunted, dodging swift.

"Shadow—cuts," Rosalia growled, lunging.

Wind broke—cage shattered, harp stood.

"Heart—soon," Lady vowed, water splashed.

She vanished—echoes lingered, threat alive.

Ye Ruo panted—"Close—damn," he cursed.

Rosalia's gaze softened—"Saved—still," she murmured.

Mondstadt sighed—dragon slept, Fools stalled.

Sugar scribbled—"Cannon—soon," she promised.

Ye Ruo's tale spun—innovation sparked wild.

The system pulsed—fame a rising gale.

His vision grew—Teyvat's future burned bright.

***

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