A carver peddling offal sparked whispers across Teyvat.
Beef offal, a tangy Liyue delicacy, piqued the curiosity of many in the broadcast room.
But who could this mysterious "Master Carver" be, hawking such wares?
No one in Liyue had ever heard of a carver turned snack vendor.
Hu Tao: "So, this video's about some guy named Master Carver?"
Arataki Itto: "A snack seller? What's so thrilling about that?"
Wendy: "My gut says this is about to get wild."
Keqing: "Why do I sense a storm brewing?"
Sayu: "Am I still napping, or is this real?"
Voices clashed in the chat, a mix of intrigue and skepticism swirling like a tempest.
Then, the massive screen flared to life with a vivid scene of Liyue's bustling streets.
A cheerful melody, bright and unmistakably Liyuean, danced through the air.
The harmony of carts and chatter painted a perfect slice of the harbor's daily rhythm.
Seconds later, two figures strolled into view, captured by the unseen lens.
Zhongli, the poised guest of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, led the way with calm authority.
Behind him trailed Tartaglia, the brash Fatui Harbinger, looking oddly like a loyal shadow.
Tartaglia: "Mr. Zhongli, us together? This ought to be good."
Zhongli: "I don't recall us ever wandering the markets like this."
Hu Tao: "Zhongli, you've snagged a Fatui lackey? Make him pay off your tab!"
Zhongli: "Ahem, Director, that's entirely unfounded."
Maurice: "Last month's bill hit 14,000 Mora, Hu Tao, swing by to settle it sometime."
Hu Tao: "Zhongli, you Mora sinkhole!"
Zhongli: "Well… uh…"
Paimon: "Sounds like a fancy freeloader to me!"
Lumine: "Paimon, hush, don't stir the pot."
The screen shifted, drawing eyes to Zhongli and Tartaglia nearing the snack street.
A voice rang out, sharp and rhythmic, cutting through the hum of the crowd.
"Fresh offal here, sizzling and delicious!" it called.
"Carved perfection, a Liyue specialty, Teyvat's finest secret recipe!" the vendor boasted.
That voice tugged at memories, familiar yet twisted, stirring the chat into a frenzy.
Ningguang: "Wait, I know that tone…"
Ganyu: "It's ringing a bell, but how?"
Beidou: "No way, it couldn't be…"
The camera panned to a modest cart, its sign proclaiming Carved Beef Delights.
There, amidst the steam and spice, stood Keqing, adorned with a bold "Immunity" sash.
Keqing: "What in Teyvat is this madness?!"
Ganyu: "Oh, this is… unexpected."
Ningguang: "Keqing, really? And that outfit!"
Beidou: "Honestly, I'd rock that look better."
Jean: "Yuheng Star Keqing moonlights as an offal hawker?"
Diluc: "I thought her family dealt in estates, not snacks."
Kujou Sara: "Liyue's Seven Stars stoop to street vending now?"
Arataki Itto: "A Seven Star snack stop? I'm grabbing a seat!"
Xiangling: "Keqing cooks offal? I need her recipe secrets!"
Keqing: "I don't sell offal, I've never even touched it!"
Zhongli approached the cart, Tartaglia trailing like a curious pup.
"Bring me a portion of your finest offal," Zhongli said, nodding to his companion, "and the young master will cover it."
Tartaglia shrugged with a grin, "It's just offal, pocket change, make it two servings."
Keqing, dubbed "Master Carver," flashed a brisk smile and sprang into action.
She snatched a slab of offal, tossing it skyward with theatrical flair.
The crowd in the chat leaned in, expecting a dazzling display of sword mastery.
Then, with a flourish, she drew a gleaming cleaver, her voice booming through the scene.
"Thunder strikes true, slicing all offal in its path!" she declared.
A bolt of violet lightning crackled, her silhouette a blur as the blade wove a shimmering web.
The real Keqing, watching this farce, nearly choked on her own disbelief.
Arataki Itto: "Thunder slicing offal? I'm dying, this is peak Liyue!"
Timmy: "That swordplay's unreal, so epic!"
Ganyu: "Keqing, you're, um… quite the performer."
Xiangling: "She's a genius, turning sword skills into snack prep!"
Ayaka: "I've much to learn about connecting with the people compared to her."
Zhongli: "This is clearly a jest, I've no memory of Yuheng Star doing this."
Lisa: "Maybe I could whip up some thunder tricks for tea time too."
Keqing: "It's slicing offal, not slaying foes, I'm not a vendor!"
Her protests drowned in the chat's uproarious laughter, her composure fraying at the edges.
Why, she fumed, was this broadcast hellbent on tormenting her with this absurdity?
The screen lingered on her, cleaver flashing as offal rained down in perfect portions.
Zhongli accepted his serving with a nod, tasting it as if critiquing a fine vintage.
Tartaglia dug in too, smirking, "Not bad for street fare, I'll give her that."
The chat exploded anew, marveling at this bizarre twist of fate and flavor.
Keqing: "Stop laughing, this isn't me, it's a lie!"
Her pleas only fed the mirth, the broadcast reveling in her exaggerated plight.
Meanwhile, a small gift box shimmered into existence beside her real self.
She tore it open, revealing a tiny cleaver charm pulsing with Electro energy.
Hu Tao: "A keepsake for the snack queen, how fitting!"
Keqing glared at it, torn between smashing it and keeping it as proof of this ordeal.
The video rolled on, Zhongli and Tartaglia savoring their meal amid the bustling street.
Liyue's melody swelled, wrapping the scene in a warm, mocking embrace.
Back in the broadcast room, the crowd buzzed, hooked on this wild reinterpretation.
Kujou Sara: "Such chaos, yet it's oddly captivating."
Wendy: "A tale of swords and snacks, pure genius!"
Keqing slumped, her dignity battered by this relentless, thunderous jest.
The screen faded, leaving her caricature etched in Teyvat's collective memory.
A new message blinked: "Next up, more surprises to delight and dismay!"
Zhongli sipped his wine back at Wanmin Kitchen, the real world snapping into focus.
He mused over the broadcast's power, its origin a riddle wrapped in laughter.
Keqing's outrage echoed in his mind, a storm he'd not soon forget.
This was no mere prank, but a force rewriting their stories with glee.
The gift box at his side held a Geo trinket, a silent nod from the unseen creator.
Teyvat trembled on the edge of something vast, sparked by this thunderous farce.
***
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