At that moment, the Hilichurl camp had fallen into a deathly silence of pure terror.
If the first companion being suddenly "teleported" and then instantly annihilated by a soul-shattering elbow strike to the magic orbs could still be explained away as confusion or rage—
Then the second one sealed it.
They watched with their own eyes as another companion, once again without the slightest warning, had its body blur, lose control, and instantly relocate—
Delivering its most fragile, sacred area directly to the elbow of that human demon.
The result?
Another blood-curdling scream.
A scream so piercing, so despair-filled, that every male creature present felt an involuntary chill surge straight up from below the waist.
Then—
Another limp, broken body went flying.
"WAAAAAA—!!!"
A Hilichurl archer was the first to break.
Its scream cracked completely out of tune as the bow slipped from its hands and clattered to the ground. It didn't even try to pick it up—turning around and scrambling away as fast as its stubby legs could carry it.
That scream flipped an invisible switch.
"WUGHH!!"
"YAAAHH!!!"
The entire camp collapsed into hysteria.
Club-wielders, archers, even the freshly awakened Mitachurl clutching its wooden shield—everyone panicked.
Weapons were discarded.
Sticks, bows, shields—gone.
Even the Mitachurl abandoned its treasured shield without a second thought.
At that moment, nothing—nothing—mattered more than preserving their magic orbs.
They wailed, screamed incomprehensibly, and fled in every direction like headless chickens.
They tripped over one another, shoved each other down, stomped over fallen comrades—utter chaos.
The massive Mitachurl ran while clutching its groin with both hands, roaring in absolute despair as if issuing a final warning to the world:
"There's a pervert here! One who only attacks the lower half! RUN—!!!"
In the blink of an eye, the once-noisy Hilichurl camp was empty.
Only a flickering bonfire remained.
Scattered crude weapons.
A few trampled cabbages.
And—
Two Hilichurl "martyrs," lying on the ground in positions so humiliating they defied dignity itself.
Dust hung thick in the air, carrying the lingering stench of terror.
Yichen stood where he was, still holding the posture of a completed elbow strike.
He looked at the battlefield—no, the evacuation zone—and clicked his tongue in mild disappointment.
"Eh… they ran already?"
"Was the pressure really that intense?"
He casually shook his elbow, as if he'd just swatted a couple of flies.
Beside him, Kaeya was still gripping his lower body with both hands, face pale as parchment.
Watching the fleeing Hilichurls—all of them instinctively shielding the same area—he inhaled sharply.
At this moment, Kaeya was absolutely, unquestionably certain:
Yichen was the natural enemy of all male life in Teyvat.
A walking, civilization-ending weapon of mass sterilization.
"U-um… Yichen…"
Kaeya spoke with a trembling voice, carefully positioning himself well outside elbow range.
"The assessment… you pass! Outstanding! Full marks!"
"Let's—let's hurry back and report! This place is NOT safe!"
He was terrified that staying one more second would inspire Yichen to invent something even more abstract, even more inhumane.
Several hours later,
Knights of Favonius Headquarters — Acting Grand Master's Office
Sunlight streamed through the clean windows, illuminating a desk buried beneath towering stacks of documents.
Jean Gunnhildr sat behind it, focused yet visibly fatigued.
In her hands was the freshly submitted evaluation report for Trainee Knight Yichen, the ink barely dry.
The handwriting was messy.
The contents were… emotionally damaging.
It detailed:
The no-wind-up instant teleport elbow at the training grounds
• The road-clearing operation that could only be described as "male-extinction combat doctrine"
The report was filled with Kaeya-style exaggeration—but it couldn't hide the genuine shock.
And the faint sorrow.
(Mainly concentrated around a certain body part.)
Jean's brows knitted tighter the more she read.
She looked up at Yichen, who stood straight before her desk, posture perfect, wearing a standard sunny smile.
This combat power…
It was beyond powerful. It was abnormal.
But that fighting style—
Jean's lips twitched slightly.
Unbidden, certain descriptions replayed in her mind, making her feel an inexplicable chill.
She set the report down and took a breath.
"Welcome officially to the Knights of Favonius, Yichen."
Her voice was calm and firm.
"From today onward, we are comrades, protecting Mondstadt together."
She paused, then asked as procedure required:
"As for your assignment… do you have a preferred position or squad? Reconnaissance, perhaps, or—"
"Grand Master Jean!"
Yichen spoke immediately, eyes shining with sincerity.
"I don't want to join another squad!"
"I want to be your assistant—directly helping to ease your burden!"
This was exactly what he and Lisa had planned.
Jean froze.
She glanced again at the report describing his horrifying battlefield presence.
Having this man as a desk assistant felt… wasteful.
But—
She remembered the phrases:
"Extremely visually disturbing"
"Likely to cause severe discomfort to male civilians"
"Strongly recommended to avoid public deployment"
If he led a unit…
If he operated freely in the city…
If he ever elbowed a drunken troublemaker—
Jean's imagination stopped itself.
Better to keep him where she could see him.
And if he helped with paperwork?
That was genuinely helpful.
After a long internal struggle, Jean nodded.
"…Very well. From today onward, you will serve as my assistant."
Then she immediately straightened, assuming her authoritative tone.
"However—during work hours, you must remain professional."
"And regarding your… confessions…"
Her cheeks tinted faintly red.
"I said it's fine—but they must not interfere with official duties. Understood?"
"Absolutely! Mission accepted!"
Yichen snapped to attention.
Then—
With flawless timing—
He pulled out a tiny white flower, clearly plucked straight from a roadside flowerbed, dew still clinging to the petals.
He held it out solemnly.
"Grand Master Jean! I like you!"
"Please date me with marriage as the goal!"
Smooth delivery.
Perfect expression.
Textbook execution.
Jean: "..."
She stared at the pitiful yet stubborn little flower.
Then at Yichen's expressionless, businesslike confession.
Her temples began to throb violently.
Maintaining her composure, she replied in the fastest, most official tone possible:
"I'm sorry, Assistant Yichen. I acknowledge your feelings—but I refuse."
Instantly, the "deep affection" vanished from Yichen's face like flipping a switch.
He calmly stuck the flower into a pen holder on her desk.
Then gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Understood! Then what's our next task?"
"Organizing files? Patrol duty? Monster suppression?"
"I'm fully ready!"
Jean stared at him.
At this emotionally instantaneous, logic-defying, absolutely inhuman assistant.
Her grip on the quill trembled.
What… did I just recruit?
With a resigned sigh, she pushed forward a stack of documents nearly half her height.
"…Start by sorting these reports… from three months ago… by date and region…"
"No problem! I'll handle it efficiently!"
Yichen lifted the mountain of files and marched toward the assistant desk like a soldier heading into battle.
Jean watched his back and took a long drink of tea.
A powerful premonition surfaced:
This new assistant's "work efficiency" would soon shake the Knights of Favonius—
In ways she could never have predicted.