In Liyue Harbor, if one sought a place steeped in metaphysical resonance, Yujing Terrace reigned supreme.
It towered as the city's highest perch, a sacred stage for the annual Rite of Descension.
Here, Morax, the Geo Archon, once graced his people with divine presence.
To Liyue's folk, it brimmed with an ethereal aura, a nexus of celestial favor.
Thus, Xander set his course for this hallowed ground, intent on tapping its luck.
Ascending the steep, weathered steps, he caught sight of Granny Ping beneath a gnarled tree.
Her gentle smile met his, a quiet warmth amid the morning bustle.
He nodded back, a flicker of reverence for the old woman's steadfast vigil.
She could've retired ages ago, yet she lingered, a silent warden of Liyue's soul.
Back in his old world, players had clamored for Granny Ping to join the roster.
Her shockwave prowess was legendary—none doubted she'd be a six-star titan.
Some jested that Zhongli's demon-war victories leaned on her seismic might.
Granny Ping watched Xander pass, a whisper of intuition brushing her mind.
Could this outsider sense her true nature, veiled beneath her humble guise?
"Surely a trick of age," she murmured, shaking off the notion with a sigh.
As Liyue's shadowed guardian, she knew his tale—an otherworldly drifter.
Beidou had fished him from the sea, a wielder of powers alien to Teyvat's elements.
Beyond her half-adepti wards, only ancient peers grasped her hidden role.
Yet she saw promise in Xander, a stranger weaving himself into Liyue's tapestry.
In mere weeks, he'd blended so seamlessly, one might mistake him for a native son.
Yujing Terrace sprawled grander than any game could capture, a marvel of stone and sky.
Its expanse dwarfed the digital echo, a living monument to Liyue's pride.
Tourists and locals thronged its plateau, a vibrant mosaic of voices and dreams.
Incense burners dotted the terrace, their smoke curling in fragrant tendrils.
Lines formed before them, each soul whispering wishes to the Geo Archon's ear.
Some prayed for heirs, others for wealth, a few for martial prowess.
One bold voice even begged for divorce, a plea that drew Xander's wry grin.
He wouldn't join that queue—incense and murmurs held no sway for him.
With Zhongli retired, banking on his blessings felt like a fool's wager.
Xander half-suspected a prayer might curse his luck further into the abyss.
So why climb to Yujing Terrace, if not to beseech the Archon's favor?
He'd come to siphon the crowd's fortune, to steal their luck for his own.
Slipping among them, he let the throng's energy wash over him like a tide.
Silently, he chanted in his mind, a mantra to bend fate to his will.
"Grant me your luck, all of it—flow into me," he intoned inwardly.
"I draw it in, I claim it, I seize it whole," he pressed, fervor rising.
It was absurd, a child's game of make-believe, yet it steadied his nerves.
A psychological balm, perhaps, but he felt a surge—an emperor's mantle cloaking him.
No draw would falter now; his haul would gleam with triumph.
Time, place, and spirit aligned—the moment to pull his prize had come.
With a thought, he summoned the system, its lottery igniting in his mind's eye.
Four meteors blazed from a virtual sky, streaking toward revelation.
Their hues shifted mid-flight, a spectrum of promise taking shape.
Two burned white, one flared green—a modest yield so far.
Then the fourth shimmered purple, an A-tier gleam piercing the rest.
Not the golden S-rank of legend, but A-tier held power aplenty.
If it landed true, a demon god's kin might bow to his command.
The meteors struck, their gifts unveiled in crisp succession.
"Congratulations, host: one Asuka photo collection acquired," the system sang.
"Congratulations, host: one Rei Ayanami photobook obtained," it chimed.
"Congratulations, host: one set of enchanted instruments (C-tier) gained," it listed.
"Congratulations, host: one Infinite Martial Refinement Skill Card (A-tier) won," it concluded.
Xander's breath caught—Infinite Martial Refinement stole the spotlight.
His eyes blazed with recognition; this was no trifling prize.
A skill from the Fate realm, wielded by the heroic spirit Lancelot, no less.
It fused mind, body, and technique into a seamless, unbreakable whole.
A warrior's pinnacle, it thrived free of mental shackles or turmoil.
Even berserk, Lancelot had danced through foes with peerless grace.
For Xander, it promised mastery over every cold weapon in Teyvat's arsenal.
Swords, spears, axes—each would bend to his will with fluid precision.
His combat prowess would soar, a front-line titan in this world's fray.
No mood, no madness could dull his edge; his strikes would always land true.
He clutched the card in his system space, its potential a tangible hum.
The photo collections—Asuka and Rei—stirred a nostalgic smirk.
Relics of another life, they'd adorn his new home with quirky charm.
The instruments, C-tier though they were, might coax a tune from idle hands.
But Infinite Martial Refinement was the crown, a boon worth the climb.
Yujing Terrace buzzed around him, its pilgrims blind to his quiet victory.
Granny Ping's gaze lingered from below, a faint curiosity in her aged eyes.
Liyue Harbor stretched beneath, a city unaware of the power he'd claimed.
The Shadowfang Blade pulsed at his side, eager to test this new edge.
Xander descended the steps, a man remade by fortune's fickle hand.
Tartaglia's fury brewed elsewhere, but here, luck had crowned a new king.
The broadcast slept, its next jest a distant ripple in his scheming mind.
***
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