[Hypnosis] was a handy Trait.
But Xia Zhi hadn't used it to twist Eula's will. He'd only used it to deepen her trust, to coax out the truths she kept buried.
From her confessions, he could already see it—her crushing disappointment with the relic-worshipping Lawrence elders, and her quiet dream of restoring honor by her own hand.
That was why she'd broken away so young, even joining the Knights of Favonius—the very institution her family despised—hoping her work there might one day win Mondstadt's recognition.
Her resolve was admirable.
The problem was exposure.
Eula's squad spent nearly all their time in the wild, cutting down monsters. She barely appeared in the city a handful of times a year. To her, it was constant service. To the people? Out of sight, out of mind.
So the only thing they saw was her family name. Her cold poise in the streets. That was the entire picture.
Jean, by contrast, was always visible. Always in public, calm and approachable, smiling in a way that made people instantly comfortable.
The contrast couldn't have been sharper. No wonder public opinion adored Jean and distrusted Eula.
After hearing Xia Zhi's breakdown, Eula lowered her eyes. "So you're suggesting I leave the squad? Switch to some desk job where people see me more?"
He shook his head. "Not necessary. Visibility's part of it. But what matters is publicity."
"Publicity?"
He sipped his tea. "To most of Mondstadt, you're still a sinner tainted by the Lawrence bloodline. As long as that impression holds, no matter how much you sacrifice, people will just call it penance. Something you owed them. At best, they'll resent you less. But they'll never thank you."
She fell silent. Because he was right.
Her years in the Knights had already earned her a captaincy. Her record was unmatched.
And yet—compared to Kaeya, also a squad captain—she was treated worlds apart. Even within the Knights.
A noble, yes. But always beneath others. Always under suspicion.
Sometimes she preferred the Adventurers' Guild. Adventurers didn't care about bloodlines—they respected power. And her swordsmanship demanded respect.
Xia Zhi set his cup down. His voice was gentle. "So the first step is simple. We change how people see you. Strip away the so-called Original Sin. In blunt terms? We whitewash your reputation."
"Whitewash… me?"
She blinked, then flushed faintly as her mind jumped somewhere else.
But she was sharp. Well-read. She quickly understood what he meant: not a bath, but a cleansing of the stigma attached to her name.
"That's… easier said than done."
Plenty of capable Lawrences before her had tried. Every attempt had failed.
Centuries of rot didn't scrub clean overnight. Especially with relatives like Schubert dragging the name deeper into the muck every time they schemed. One disaster undid years of progress.
Pig teammates. Too many to carry.
Xia Zhi leaned forward. "Then you cut them off. Don't let their failures stain you."
She studied him. "And how exactly do I cut them off?"
He considered. "By law, isn't a man who conspires with foreign powers meant to face trial before the tribunal? Public judgment?"
Her expression darkened. "…Yes. Unless something changes, my uncle stands trial tomorrow morning. He was caught red-handed. No chance of appeal."
"Perfect," Xia Zhi said.
She looked up in surprise. "Perfect?"
His smile was disarmingly warm. "You told me yourself—you caught him. That makes you the first witness. Which means you have every right to testify in court."
"You want me to accuse my uncle?"
"Not the point. What matters is standing in public, speaking for yourself."
"And after that?"
"After that, you shed the Lawrence curse."
"…How?"
He chuckled. "How would you do it, Miss Eula?"
"I… don't know. But exposing my uncle won't be enough."
"Exactly. To some, it might even backfire. They'll say it's theater. A Lawrence stabbing another in the back so you can climb higher in the Knights. So the family can eventually reclaim power. They'll twist it no matter what."
Bitterness shadowed her face.
Because again—he was right. Many already believed her entire career was just a scheme.
"People are like that," Xia Zhi said softly. "Call it ignorance, call it herd mentality. If everyone says you're guilty, then guilty you are. If everyone says you're good… well, you see where I'm going."
Eula leaned forward, frowning. "You mean—make the majority say I'm good, and the rest will follow?"
He nodded.
"And how exactly do I make that happen?"
"That brings us to the other lever: authority. Words weigh differently depending on who speaks them. The higher the authority, the heavier they fall."
"I know that much. But…" She exhaled. "Jean has defended me in public before. It never changed anything."
He laughed. "Did you really think I meant Jean?"
She blinked. "Didn't you? She's Acting Grand Master—the most powerful voice in Mondstadt."
Xia Zhi shook his head. "Wrong. Mondstadt has always had only one true authority. From the very beginning, it's never changed."
Understanding hit her. She whispered, "You mean… Lord Barbatos?"
He smiled. "Exactly. If the Anemo Archon himself pardoned you, what then? Do you think the people would still sneer?"
She fell silent. Then gave a pained little smile. "Impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Lord Barbatos has been gone for centuries. The last anyone saw him was five hundred years ago—when Durin struck. And even if he were here, he wouldn't intervene for something so trivial."
Xia Zhi chuckled. "You misunderstand. I never said he'd appear. I said he'd pardon you."
Her brows knit. "…What's the difference?"
He leaned in, voice layered with meaning. "The Archon doesn't need to appear to express his will."
Her eyes widened, then lit with realization. "You mean… Dvalin? The dragon was once his companion. If it descended, it could speak in his place. You plan to summon it with music, like you did during the competition, right?"
She looked at him hopefully, as if waiting for confirmation.
He only smiled and shook his head. "Would've worked once. But not now. After the dragonstorm last year, Dvalin's reputation isn't what it was. And since both I and Venti have publicly drawn it with music before, repeating the trick would raise suspicion. Too obvious."
Her hope dimmed. She chewed on her lip, troubled.
She thought and thought, but came up empty. Finally, she asked, "Then what else could possibly stand in for the Archon's will? What do you have in mind?"
His smile returned. "The answer's simple. A hint: you already carry it."
"Something… on me?"
She looked herself over. Then froze.
Her gaze landed on the Cryo Vision at her hip.
"You don't mean…" she whispered.
"Of course I do," Xia Zhi said gently. "Your Vision."
And with a flick of his hand, a second gem appeared—a green Anemo Vision, glinting in his palm.
"See? I've already prepared it."
She stared, stunned.
He went on, calm and confident. "Here's the plan. Tomorrow, when your uncle faces trial, you testify. I'll write a speech for you. Stirring, passionate. You'll lay out the Lawrence sins, then declare your break from them forever. And at that moment—this Vision descends.
"Everyone knows how Visions are born. When a mortal's will blazes strong enough, the gods answer. If you gain an Anemo Vision right then, the meaning is undeniable. Barbatos himself has recognized you. And that carries more weight than Dvalin ever could."
Eula's mind reeled. She shook her head hard. "That can't work. I already have a Cryo Vision."
"I know," he said easily. "So?"
"So no one has ever had two."
"Never doesn't mean impossible. Maybe the others weren't worthy. But you? You could be the first. Two gods, both choosing you."
Her cheeks flushed. She looked away. "Don't flatter me. I'm not that special. And besides—everyone knows you can't just hand someone a Vision. If you give me one, they'll call it a fake."
"Why would they?" he asked lightly.
"Because everyone knows you can only wield your own Vision. Pick up someone else's and it's just a trinket, nothing more."
Her words cut off.
Because Xia Zhi placed the Anemo Vision in her hand.
The moment it touched her skin, something stirred. A weightless power pressed against her heart.
She gasped.
And with one instinctive thought, a breeze rose around her, circling her frame.
Her eyes widened.
Wind.
She was holding the wind.