Keqing bolted home, her face buried in her hands, a streak of violet lightning through Liyue's streets.
She barricaded herself in her room, surrounded by Geo Archon figurines, and dove under the quilt.
Muffled sobs escaped as shame consumed her, her pride shattered by the broadcast's cruel jest.
Her family and servants, she imagined, were snickering behind closed doors at her expense.
"Curse that wretched trickster who dared do this!" she growled, her voice raw with fury.
"If I ever find them, I'll carve their smug face into pieces!" she vowed, fists clenched tight.
She thrashed on the bed, her sleek black stockings flailing as anger surged through her.
The thought of facing Liyue's streets again twisted her stomach into knots.
Outwardly, they'd bow and call her "Yuheng Star Keqing" with practiced respect.
Behind her back, she'd be "Master Offal Keqing," a nickname to haunt her forever.
Her dignity, her carefully built image, all crumbled to dust in that absurd video.
Tears stung her eyes, a mix of rage and despair welling up uncontrollably.
After a while, her breathing steadied, and she noticed the reward clutched in her hand.
A prize earned at the cost of her public humiliation glared up at her.
The cover read Skyward Offal Blade Technique, its title a fresh stab at her pride.
She nearly hurled it into a fire, her fingers itching to erase its existence.
"Calm yourself, Keqing, hold it together," she muttered, forcing her temper down.
She flipped it open, skimming the pages, only for her eyes to twitch in disbelief.
"This is an outrage, a mockery of my family's art!" she spat, slamming it to the floor.
The technique twisted her clan's Yunlai swordplay into a tool for slicing beef offal.
Worse still, it outshone the original in power, a bitter pill she couldn't swallow.
She stomped on it twice, venting her frustration into the crumpled pages.
Reluctantly, she scooped it up, resisting the urge to shred it to ribbons.
She'd keep this Skyward Offal Blade Technique safe, a weapon for her revenge.
When she unmasked the broadcast's creator, she'd shove it down their throat.
But where was this shadowy culprit hiding, pulling strings from the dark?
Across Liyue, at Wanmin Kitchen's second floor, a young man lounged by the window.
Xander, clad in a flowing blue coat, sipped wine and nibbled on delicate dishes.
A month ago, he'd tumbled into Teyvat, a traveler from a world beyond the stars.
His past before that leap was a blur, irrelevant to his new life here.
He'd landed on the Alcor near Guyun Stone Forest, crashing into Beidou's arms.
She'd been mid-drink at the ship's bow, catching him in a dramatic embrace.
Fate, it seemed, had a flair for theatrics in delivering him to her.
Bound for Liyue, Beidou hauled him along, his arrival sparking her curiosity.
Travelers from other realms weren't unheard of, though rare enough to raise brows.
With Beidou's hearty vouching, Xander found a foothold in Liyue's bustling harbor.
His golden ticket was the Second Creation Broadcast, a gift from his crossing.
It thrived on crafting spoof videos, feeding off Teyvat's emotional reactions for rewards.
When he arrived, it granted him a starter boon before slipping into dormancy.
That boon? A template of a demon warrior's prowess from another realm's tale.
It gifted him an enduring body, swift healing, basic magic, a blade, and spectral swords.
A severed head would still end him, but he'd survive most else intact.
His strength, though, hovered at a middling rank, far from Teyvat's titans.
The broadcast ranked him B-tier, a solid but unremarkable standing.
His profile gleamed in his mind: Name: Xander, Strength: B, Agility: B+.
Constitution: B, Spirit: B+, Abilities: Demon Resilience, Phantom Blades.
Equipment: Shadowfang Blade, Draws Remaining: 1, it listed with cold precision.
Teyvat's tiers stretched from D, mere mortals, to SS, the heavenly enforcers.
C-tier held most Vision wielders, the peak of human grit and training.
B-tier housed the likes of Jean, Diluc, Ningguang, elite yet short of divine.
Xander sat here, strong enough to fend for himself, but no match for legends.
A-tier marked the demon kin, immortals, and fallen titans like Inazuma's fox.
S-tier crowned the Archons, from mighty Morax to the frail Salt Goddess.
SS-tier loomed as Celestia's enforcers, untouchable arbiters of Teyvat's fate.
They'd surely sensed Xander's arrival, a ripple in their cosmic watch.
Yet the broadcast's origins eluded them, a mystery shrouded in its antics.
As long as he stayed subtle, avoiding the abyss or leylines, he'd slip their grasp.
Why had he chosen Keqing for his first spoof, a thunderous debut?
Simple affection, he'd claim, a twisted tribute to her fiery spirit.
She'd crack under scrutiny eventually, so why not kick things off with flair?
Each video netted him a draw, a gamble of three to five random prizes.
Rewards ranged from trivial trinkets to monstrous boons, luck his only guide.
A streak of fortune could crown him king, or misfortune bury him deep.
Xander swirled his wine, gazing out at Liyue's sunlit sprawl below.
Keqing's meltdown fed his system, her outrage a sweet currency.
He'd seen her storm off, a thunderbolt fleeing the laughter she left behind.
A smirk curled his lips, the broadcast's chaos his quiet masterpiece.
Downstairs, Maurice called orders, oblivious to the storm Xander brewed.
Beidou's laughter from that first meeting echoed in his mind, a fond anchor.
She'd dubbed him "Skyfall" for his dramatic drop, a nickname that stuck.
Now, he wielded that chaos, a puppeteer of Teyvat's unwitting stars.
The Shadowfang Blade rested at his side, its edge humming with faint power.
He'd tested it once, slicing through a hilichurl camp with spectral grace.
B-tier suited him for now, a foothold to climb this world's steep ladder.
Keqing's gift, that offal-twisted sword art, was his doing, a sly jab.
She'd never guess the man sipping wine above her city spun her tale.
The broadcast slept again, recharging for its next gleeful strike.
Xander leaned back, savoring the calm before Teyvat's next uproar.
Liyue bustled below, whispers of "Master Carver" threading through its veins.
He'd tossed the first stone, and the ripples would only grow wider.
What next? A bard's ballad gone awry, or a knight's dignity undone?
The draw awaited, a roll of fate to fuel his quiet rebellion.
For now, he ate, drank, and watched, the shadow behind the screen.
***
Support me on Patreon to read 50+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Nocturnal_Breeze