On the way to Sandrone’s tea room, the roaring steam pipes were gradually replaced by the crisp chirping of birds.
Tartaglia followed behind Capitano like an overly energetic large dog, looking around at the artificial garden scenery along the path.
“Senior, do you think Daigan will come?” He scratched his head, sounding somewhat uncertain.
Capitano walked with steady, slow strides, his eyes calmly fixed ahead.
“Perhaps he will, perhaps he won’t.”
“Isn’t that the same as not answering?” Tartaglia pouted, but still pressed on stubbornly.
“So…
Daigan is really strong, right?
I mean, stronger than when we last saw him?”
Last time, Tartaglia had already seen that Daigan was at least stronger than Scaramouche.
As two of the few martial purists among the Harbingers, both harbored an unusual curiosity toward someone like Daigan.
Capitano fell silent for a moment.
In his mind, Daigan’s eternally unbothered, indifferent face resurfaced.
No matter the time or place, Daigan maintained a heart as still as calm water—unmoved and doing as he pleased even when facing the Tsaritsa’s wrath.
At first, Capitano had assumed it was contempt for or indulgence from the Tsaritsa.
Later, however, he realized that wasn’t the case.
Daigan’s calm was an absolute, ultimate calm.
It was the state of “Ultimate Stillness” that all martial artists dreamed of achieving—the peak of relaxation right before unleashing power.
Such a realm…
Ordinary people might only touch upon it briefly through painstaking cultivation and meditation.
Top martial artists like themselves might control it at will, allowing them to exert full power in life-and-death duels.
Yet Daigan had integrated this state into his very breathing and daily life.
Every single movement he made retained extreme tranquility, allowing him to exert “neither too much nor too little”—a flawless, precise amount of force at any moment.
Looking at it now…
He trained in martial arts, found joy in martial arts, and lived for martial arts.
His life itself was perhaps one long, uninterrupted journey of cultivation.
“Senior?”
Capitano had already reached a conclusion in his heart.
“For now, he may not yet stand at the absolute summit.
But sooner or later, he will reach that height.
It is only a matter of time.”
“Then compared to you, Senior, who is stronger?” Tartaglia’s eyes lit up.
To receive such high praise…
did that mean Daigan was a genius too?
Daigan seemed a bit older than him, though.
If Tartaglia could defeat him…
“Right now, I am stronger,” Capitano stated candidly.
“But he will catch up.”
“Haha!
I really want to spar with him!” Tartaglia squeezed his fists in excitement, as if he could already smell the smoke of battle.
Moments later, guided by a navigation automaton, the two stepped out of the garden and into the tea room Sandrone had painstakingly arranged.
“Sandrone!
We’re here for the tea party!” Tartaglia’s voice arrived before he did.
“Pardon the intrusion,” Capitano followed right behind, his tone grounded and steady.
“Yo, Captain, Childe.” Sandrone set down her teacup and stood up to greet them.
The Captain gave a slight nod, his gaze sweeping across the room.
Inside the tea room, Columbina was blissfully clutching a piece of honey bread, her cheeks puffed out as she ate.
Unexpectedly, Daigan was also sitting nearby.
Expressionless, he raised a teacup and drained it in a single gulp.
The mechanical attendant beside him seemed to have received a specific instruction; the moment Daigan’s cup emptied, a mechanical arm would drop with pinpoint accuracy and fill it back up.
The motion was smooth and swift, as if it feared Daigan might die of thirst.
“Ah, Daigan came too!” Tartaglia spotted the familiar figure at once and dashed over excitedly.
Capitano’s eyes lingered on Daigan.
He noticed that in the few seconds Tartaglia had been talking, Daigan had already downed three more cups of tea.
“It seems Mr.
Daigan has quite a liking for Miss Sandrone’s flower tea,” Capitano nodded slightly, addressing Sandrone.
Hearing this, Sandrone rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath:
“Who knows!
Last time he suddenly crashed the place for tea, drank one cup, and bolted.
This time is even better—he’s chugging my meticulously blended ‘Moonlight Jasmine’ like plain water!
How can he even taste anything like that?
Tell me, isn’t that weird?
The second he sat down, he started drinking all by himself without even saying hello!”
Though she complained, Sandrone impatiently waved her hand and instructed, “Go brew a fresh pot.
Don’t let this big shot die of thirst.”
“Mm…”
Looking at the expressionless Daigan, who was pouring water into his stomach cup after cup, and Columbina beside him, who was solely focused on eating bread, Sandrone let out a helpless sigh and invited Tartaglia and Capitano to take their seats.
Right at that moment, Arlecchino arrived as well.
Seeing Daigan’s frost-cold face and the endlessly busy automated tea-pouring unit in front of him, a flash of surprise glinted in the eyes of the House of the Hearth’s master.
“You’re here?
Have a seat.
Pay no mind to this weirdo,” Sandrone said, pointing at Daigan as she greeted Arlecchino.
Arlecchino sat down as bid, taking a spot right between Daigan and Columbina, neatly dividing the men and women.
Tartaglia and Capitano sat down in turn.
And so, amidst an indescribable blend of cozy warmth and utter absurdity, the tea party officially began.
In the gentle warmth woven of steam and floral fragrance, these Harbingers who usually stirred up storms across Teyvat seemed, at this moment, to possess a slice of mundane, ordinary life.
Except this “ordinary” gathering included Columbina, who inhaled bread like air, and Daigan, who chugged tea like water.
***
The atmosphere inside the tea room grew even more nuanced after Arlecchino’s arrival.
Firewood in the hearth crackled faintly.
Sandrone was animatedly sharing an anecdote about Capitano’s past mission in Natlan.
Supposedly, when the Captain had faced certain traditional festivals in Natlan, he had acted even more solemn than when receiving the Tsaritsa’s imperial decrees.
“…In the end, it turned out he couldn’t understand a single move of their dances!
And then?
Capitano just stood at the mouth of the volcano and gave those dancers a formal Snezhnayan salute!” Sandrone mimicked Capitano’s deadpan expression, sending Tartaglia into fits of laughter.
Capitano held his teacup, his face unchanged, though the tips of his ears turned slightly red.
After all, a long time had passed between his last trip to Natlan and the one before that.
Arlecchino took an elegant sip of tea and calmly added, “Compared to the chaos in Natlan, the waters in Fontaine will likely be even harder to navigate.
Still, the children at the House of the Hearth have been quite well-behaved lately—no doubt because they have a new target…”
Her gaze swept casually over Daigan’s finally filled teacup and the idling automated unit beside him.
Just then, Columbina, who had been burying her face in food, suddenly stopped.
Her stuffed cheeks moved slightly as if sensing something.
She raised her head slightly, her perpetually closed eyes focusing with rare intent on Daigan, and asked in a muffled voice:
“Daigan…
are you talking to someone?”
Daigan was currently immersed in a mental battle with the System and didn’t pay attention to her.
[Host, can you please slow down the pace a bit and show some restraint?!
Look, you just drank another pot!]
The System’s voice bounced anxiously inside Daigan’s mind, the stats on its interface refreshing frantically.
“Why is this teacup so tiny?!
And why does drinking water increase my satiety?” Daigan hadn’t heard Columbina’s eerie question and continued to complain internally.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that I could taste things here?!”
[Didn’t this feature just unlock?!
It requires Level 85+ and a special location like a ‘Tea Party’ to trigger the hidden event…
I thought telling you was useless since you only ever cared about EXP before!] the System weakly defended itself.
In truth, it could have granted Daigan access to his five senses long ago, but it wanted to prevent this host from losing his fighting spirit due to indulging in pleasure in this dangerous alternate world.
Besides, because of Daigan’s dramatic psychological fluctuations, the high-energy entity next to him seemed to have noticed something.
This world was full of hidden perils!
“Why do you think I cared about EXP?!
Isn’t it because I couldn’t perceive anything *other* than EXP?!
By the way, will eating food have taste?”
As if just realizing this, Daigan reached out, grabbed a piece of exquisite laurel honey cake from the table, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed forcefully.
[Satiety + 10]
A sweetness spread across his tongue, but though soft like water, that familiar sense of “emptiness” made his heart shiver.
“Fills the stomach, but no taste,” Daigan frowned, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Still no flavor.
Looks like at a tea party, only the tea can be tasted.”
Refusing to give up, he looked at the System, a foodie’s relentless obsession burning in his eyes.
“System, will food in a restaurant have flavor?”
[…Eating in a restaurant won’t have flavor either.] The System’s heart tightened.
It acutely sensed that the fanatical drive to grow stronger in Daigan’s eyes was rapidly fading, replaced by a longing for “everyday life.”
[Host, raising your level to 87 will unlock your sense of taste.
But when that time comes…
if you eat poisonous things again, they won’t be automatically decomposed into energy by the system.
You won’t be able to eat anything and everything like you do now.]
[The Host is great right now!
As long as it contains energy, you can consume it, and you won’t die even if you don’t eat!
You’re practically a perfect combat machine!]
“But living like this is meaningless,” Daigan sighed, holding his full teacup suspended in midair.
The feeling that whatever he ate would be converted into cold data truly made life feel completely drained of color.
[If the Host unlocks a physical body too early, it’s very easy to die in this dangerous alternate world!
Many before you died already, which is why the source code set Level 90 to open full permissions.
The best I can do is unlock minor permissions every level after Level 85.]
The System tried earnestly to persuade him, striving to awaken Daigan’s sense of crisis.
Daigan smacked his lips, reminiscing about that faint, fleeting sweetness.
He understood the logic.
When his level was lower before, he had indeed come close to dying many times.
Had it not been for his digitized body—where a single drop of HP could keep him going at full performance—he couldn’t possibly have survived this long, let alone grind to Level 86 in just a few short months.
“Fine, I can understand that.”
Daigan’s words made the System breathe a sigh of relief.
[Thank you for your understanding, Host!]
“I only have one question.”
Daigan’s eyes suddenly became deep and solemn, his body leaning forward slightly.
[What is it?]
“Can I swap taste for a CCB?”
Daigan’s voice was low and heavy, as if asking about some earth-shattering secret.
[…Pervert.] The System was silent for three seconds before delivering a human-like, red-faced reaction.
Meanwhile, from the perspective of everyone around the tea table, Daigan was merely sitting bolt upright, staring deep into his teacup in profound contemplation.