The theme of this lecture was cultural inheritance.
While seated below the stage, Severin had already decided what he would speak about.
If he discussed Liyue's own culture, there was no way he could surpass Morax himself.
If he spoke of Snezhnaya's history, it would be far too monotonous—utterly lacking when compared to Liyue's rich and diverse traditions.
So Severin chose a different path.
"Everyone," he began calmly, "have you ever heard of the Seven Warring States or the era of the Hundred Schools of Thought?"
Below the stage, Morax paused. He had never heard of such a history, and genuine interest flickered in his eyes as he looked up at Severin.
The students shook their heads as well.
Of course they hadn't.
Liyue's history and that of Severin's homeland did not share a continuous cultural lineage. At most, Liyue had absorbed fragments of Huaxia aesthetics—but at its core, it was an entirely different civilization.
What Severin was about to recount was the Spring and Autumn and Warring States era of Huaxia—an age carved into human history.
"Qi, Chu, Yan, Han, Zhao, Wei, Qin—seven great states contending for supremacy. Countless heroes rose, and their names were etched into history."
"When the Qin Empire laid siege to Zhao's capital, a schoolteacher—mortally wounded—continued instructing his students. On a sand table, he traced the character Zhao again and again, telling them never to forget their roots, never to forget Zhao's culture."
"Even if a nation falls," Severin said quietly, "as long as its culture endures, its spirit lives on."
The hall grew feverish with emotion.
Many listeners felt as though they themselves were those students—listening to a final lesson while arrows rained down and classmates fell beside them.
Seeing their rapt attention, Severin continued, now drawing from a later era.
"There was once a general named Guo Xin, who led a few thousand border soldiers. Cut off from reinforcements, they faced the mighty Tibetan Empire alone—and fought on for forty-two years."
"They endured from black-haired youth to white-haired old age."
"These warriors became known to history as the White-Haired Army of Anxi."
"At the time, the Tang Dynasty believed the frontier had long since fallen. But when news arrived that the Anxi Protectorate still stood—that Tang territory in the Western Regions was still being defended—the emperor and his entire court wept openly."
"Even the enemy showed them respect. After capturing the city, the Tibetans gave all the fallen white-haired soldiers honorable burials."
"Loyal souls burn bright through countless calamities. Though the glory of the Tang has faded, the spirit of Huaxia endures—undying, unextinguished."
"The White-Haired Army held out for forty-two years not because of numbers or strength," Severin concluded, "but because of their unwavering belief in protecting their civilization."
"Cultural inheritance," he said, voice steady,
"is also the inheritance of a people's resolve to protect their homeland."
When Severin finished this segment, many scholars in the hall were already in tears.
Morax stood solemnly, as though offering silent respect to those long-departed warriors.
"And then came the age of contention," Severin continued, "when thinkers arose whose ideas shaped thousands of years to come."
"Confucius said: Learning without reflection leads to confusion; reflection without learning leads to peril."
"Laozi said: Because he does not contend, no one under heaven can contend with him."
"Mozi said: If one gives me a peach, I return a plum."
"Sunzi said: Strike where the enemy is unprepared; appear where you are least expected."
Each sentence struck like thunder.
When Severin finally stepped down, the great hall was silent—until Morax began to applaud.
Then the entire hall erupted.
These vivid histories had expanded their horizons beyond measure.
Concepts such as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trust carved themselves deeply into the listeners' hearts, opening doors they had never known existed.
Before today, Liyue had produced thinkers of its own—but compared to sages like Confucius and Mencius, the gap was vast.
"Mr. Su," a scholar exclaimed, "I've read the histories of all Seven Nations, yet none compare to this single lecture!"
"Were those stories truly created by you? They feel… real."
"Do you take disciples?"
"Will you return to lecture again?"
Severin found himself surrounded by eager students. He accepted their admiration without false modesty.
Even in Teyvat, the brilliance of Huaxia's history remained awe-inspiring.
The owner of Wanwen Bookhouse, Ji Fang, sighed in admiration.
"As expected of Mr. Zhongli's friend. The ideas you shared today will send shockwaves through Liyue's intellectual circles. Mr. Su, Wanwen Bookhouse would like to invite you as a lecturer. The remuneration will match Mr. Zhongli's."
So Zhongli actually gets paid…
Yet he served as a consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and a lecturer here—and still lived penniless.
Morax… where exactly does your money go?
"Thank you for the offer," Severin replied. "But I won't be staying in Liyue for long."
"What a pity," Ji Fang said regretfully. "If Liyue had a master like you, how could our culture fail to flourish?"
She could tell from his attire that Severin was not a native of Liyue. Hearing his confirmation only deepened her disappointment.
From a pragmatic standpoint, such a figure—if claimed by another nation—might one day threaten Liyue's cultural dominance.
She resolved to report this matter to the Liyue Qixing.
Nearby, Zhongli studied Severin in silence, murmuring to himself:
"Curious… neither a disciple of Celestia nor an apostle of the Abyss. Yet such vast knowledge, such depth of thought—even I am enlightened. That world of warring states and clashing philosophies… it truly stirs the heart."
Severin heard every word.
"That was an age where human sages shone brighter than kings," he said. "Centuries later, people remember the sages—but forget the rulers."
Zhongli exhaled softly.
"In such a nation, even without gods, culture could endure for centuries."
"More or less," Severin replied mildly. "About five thousand years so far."
Zhongli froze.
A civilization ruled entirely by humans—lasting five millennia—nearly rivaling his own age.
Unthinkable.
He recalled how Liyue had nearly perished several times throughout history, saved only because he intervened.
"Did they never face invasion?" Zhongli asked.
"They did," Severin answered. "Every invader was driven out. When crisis came, thousands of years of shared culture forged unprecedented unity. Their strength lay not in individuals—but in the collective."
"The power of the collective…"
Zhongli fell silent, eyes gleaming with realization.
"Liyue has relied on the strength of the Geo Archon alone for over a thousand years. Perhaps… it is time to cultivate that collective strength. Only then can Liyue endure, even if one day Rex Lapis is gone."
Ji Fang, unfazed by his murmuring, explained softly, "Mr. Zhongli often ponders matters of national destiny. We're all used to it."
"I understand," Severin replied.
When gods began to reflect on their own rule, it meant they were already confronting erosion.
Just as Ei isolated herself in the Plane of Euthymia.
Just as Barbatos shirked his divine duties.
Just as the Tsaritsa chose to rebel against fate itself.
If nothing changed, Morax would soon stage his own death at the Rite of Descension and hand Liyue fully to the Qixing.
Severin had not expected his words to strengthen that resolve.
"Mr. Zhongli, Mr. Su," Ji Fang interrupted, "the Wanwen Bookhouse auction is about to begin. Would you care to attend?"
Zhongli, who had spent the morning lost in thought by the window, turned around.
"Please prepare a private room for Mr. Su and myself."
"I'll make arrangements immediately."
After Ji Fang left, Zhongli remained deep in thought.
"I only told a story," Severin said. "You needn't take it so seriously."
Zhongli shook his head.
"Your identity is far from ordinary. But I won't pry—everyone carries secrets. Including myself. Tell me, Mr. Su… this people you spoke of—Huaxia. What does the name mean?"
"Great in ritual, thus called Xia.
Splendid in attire, thus called Hua."
Zhongli sighed. "Indeed… a civilization of profound depth. Liyue falls short."
Severin smiled faintly, glancing toward the doorway.
"An auction at a bookstore?" he asked.
"Mostly antiques, calligraphy, and rare treasures," Zhongli replied. "This time, there are said to be several ancient artifacts. Someone of refined taste like yourself may find them intriguing."
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