Genshin Impact: Blood Night in Liyue
The iron hooves of Takeda Shingen, Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi trample over Liyue Harbor.
A brutal massacre reduces the prosperous port into a living hell.
One hundred and eighty thousand civilians dye the harbor red with their blood, with barely any survivors left.
While fleeing, Aether is slashed across his left shoulder by enemy soldiers.
When he and his companions reach the side peak of Mt. Tianheng and look back——
The entire Liyue Harbor has fallen into a slaughterhouse.
Yet the enemy generals drink and laugh atop the city tower,
vying to see who has slain more of these "foreign barbarians"...
Fire is the first thing that catches the eye.
Thick smoke, like splattered filthy ink, stains Liyue Harbor’s azure sky into a despairing ash-black. The once row upon row of upturned eaves and vermilion beams now lie mostly in ruins, twisting and collapsing in agony amid raging flames. The harbor, once crowded with thousands of ships, now floats with broken planks and unrecognizable debris. The seawater is dyed an ominous ochre-brown, lapping time and again at the piles of... bodies along the shore.
The air reeks of a grotesque, horrid stench. The pungent smell of gunpowder and burnt timber cannot overpower the nauseating metallic reek of blood—blood that streams into rivers and soaks the earth. Mixed within it is the putrid stench of scorched flesh, along with distant, inhuman howls and wails echoing faintly.
Aether grits his teeth hard, a tearing pain searing through his left shoulder. The strike came out of nowhere: a warrior in full armor charged out of a burning alley, his face twisted by greed and slaughter beneath his helmet, roaring words in an incomprehensible tongue. He narrowly dodged a fatal blow, yet the blade still cuts deep into his flesh. Warm blood soaks his sleeve at once, oozing stickily through his clamped fingers with every passing second. Each breath tugs at the wound, throbbing with dull agony.
"Aether! Hold on a little longer!" Yun Jin’s voice rings out beside him, breathless and trembling with undisguised terror. Her gorgeous opera costume is now covered in soot and flecks of stray blood, with a long tear along the cuff. Supporting Aether’s right arm with one hand, she grips a long spear wrested from a fallen soldier with the other. The spear tip trembles faintly, its tassel matted solid with grime and blood.
Yae Miko walks a pace ahead. Her always immaculate miko robes are dust-streaked and torn in several places along the hem. She is uncharacteristically silent; her amethyst eyes, always glinting with playful mockery, are now cold as ice, sharply scanning every corner ahead for hidden danger. A faintly glowing talisman rests in her grasp, ready to be unleashed at any moment. Xinyan covers their rear. Her beloved instrument is nowhere to be found, replaced by a heavy broadsword, clearly plundered from the enemy. Scrapes mark her face, and the rock singer’s signature defiance is replaced by a heavy, simmering rage on the verge of erupting. She glances back repeatedly at the hellish harbor, grinding her teeth audibly.
The four of them blend in with scattered fellow refugees, all worn with panic and despair, climbing a steep, rugged path beside Mt. Tianheng. The trail is rarely trodden, overgrown with brambles and littered with loose stones. Every step sends a piercing jolt through Aether’s left shoulder; cold sweat dampens his hair, and his vision blurs intermittently.
Behind them, the clamor of Liyue Harbor lingers close by. The clang of clashing steel, the thunder of collapsing buildings, and the bestial, triumphant howls of the victors mingle with the wails of the dying. Together they weave a suffocating net, tightening around the heart of every fleeing soul.
They pass through a charred bamboo grove, blackened stalks rising like desperate fingers pointing to the sky. A woman’s shrill cry drifts on the wind, only to cut short in an instant, replaced by wilder laughter. Xinyan freezes rigidly, her knuckles whitening as she tightens her grip on the sword hilt. She nearly spins around to charge back, only for Yae Miko to grip her wrist firmly. Miko says nothing, merely shaking her head, her gaze heavier than ever before.
They pass the mouth of an unassuming cave, where muffled sobs of a child echo faintly from within. An elderly man curls in the shadow of the entrance, a ghastly gash torn open in his chest, already lifeless. His clouded eyes stare blankly up at the gloomy sky. Yun Jin turns her head away, her shoulders trembling slightly.
Aether’s foot slips suddenly, sending pebbles clattering down the mountainside. The jolt wrenches his shoulder wound brutally. He lets out a muffled groan, his vision darkening as he staggers, nearly collapsing. Yun Jin and Xinyan brace him up at once.
"We’re... almost at the summit." Yun Jin gasps, her voice thick with tears she struggles to hold back.
After what feels like an eternity of scrambling upward, the path finally levels out. They break through a thicket of low shrubs, and the view opens up abruptly—they have reached the top of Mt. Tianheng’s side peak, a massive jutting rocky platform overlooking the land below.
Aether pulls free from Yun Jin and Xinyan’s support, staggering forward to stand at the cliff’s edge.
And then he sees it.
The entirety of Liyue Harbor stretches unobscured beneath his feet.
The once prosperous, glittering port, a city that never sleeps thronged with merchants from all seven nations, filled with boatmen’s chants and the bustle of street life, has now devolved entirely into a hellish scroll of fire and blood.
Nearly every inch of the harbor burns, thick black smoke billowing upward as walls of flame rage through streets, devouring everything combustible. Familiar landmarks—Yujing Terrace, Chihu Rock, Feiyun Slope—are barely recognizable now, only broken silhouettes swaying amid the blaze. At the docks, where he once fed seagulls alongside Paimon, countless bodies lie piled high. Discarded like unwanted cargo, they stack layer upon layer, filling alleyways and choking the waterways.
Countless soldiers clad in three distinct sets of armor swarm like ants across the city’s ruins. Wielding katanas, lances and harquebus spears, they hunt down every surviving Liyue native still able to run. Where blade light flashes, lives fall like weeds. He watches a silk-robed merchant flee a burning shop with his head in his hands, only to be surrounded by foot soldiers and pierced through from all sides by spears. He sees soldiers batter down the door of a home, dragging out a screaming young woman and tearing at her clothes...
Looting unfolds in broad daylight. Crates of Mora, gold and silver vessels, fine porcelain, antiques and calligraphy are hauled from shops and residences, piled in the streets and sealed with marked plaques. Relics embodying Liyue’s millennial heritage, artworks forged with artisans’ devotion, are all crudely branded as spoils of war.
Yet the most harrowing sight of all looms atop the still grand, though damaged, Tenshukaku Tower.
Once the council hall of the Liyue Qixing, the seat of Liyue’s highest authority, the tower now glows with lamplight, shadowy figures pacing within. Several imposing generals in ornate full armor lean against the railings, gazing down upon the bloodbath below and chatting casually. Worse still—glinting wine cups rise to their lips.
A mountain wind laden with smoke and blood gusts over the cliff, carrying fragmented, mocking words torn by the breeze:
"...Lord Shingen... one hundred and seventy-three slain..."
"Haha... Lord Nobunaga... one hundred and eighty-nine... even that old man counts..."
"...Lord Hideyoshi... just now... those two children... make it a full two hundred..."
A killing... contest?
Aether’s stomach lurches violently—not from his shoulder wound, but from an icy chill surging from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. His blood seems to freeze in his veins. One hundred and eighty thousand Liyue civilians... barely a hundred left alive. These cold numbers collide brutally with the mountain of corpses before his eyes and the demons’ tally ringing in his ears.
"They’re... they’re..." Yun Jin has heard it too. All color drains from her face, her lips trembling too much to form a complete sentence. She staggers backward, unsteady on her feet, the light in her eyes snuffed out by overwhelming horror and disbelief. The long spear she has clutched tightly clatters to the rock ground.
Xinyan lets out a low growl like a wounded beast, slamming her broadsword savagely against the nearby cliff face, sending sparks flying. "Beasts! All of you beasts!" Her roar echoes across the mountains, raw with helpless grief and fury.
Yae Miko stands silently as mountain wind stirs her dust-laced hair and tattered robes. She turns her gaze away from the hell below, tilting her head to stare at the smoke-shrouded, leaden sky. Her jaw is set tight, every emotion fading from her violet eyes, leaving only a hollow coldness brimming with an unleased storm. She speaks softly, her voice low and calm, yet colder than any shout could ever be:
"It seems... the Archons have been gone far too long. Some have forgotten what power once guarded this land of Liyue."
Aether stares fixedly downward, at the city wailing amid flame and blood, at the loathsome blurry figures atop Tenshukaku Tower. The pain in his shoulder lingers, yet it is overshadowed, swallowed by something deeper, hotter burning within him.
It is not sorrow, nor fear, nor even mere rage.
It is a brand seared into his soul.
A brand that demands retribution in blood, repayment in fire.
He slowly lifts his uninjured right hand, clenching it tight into a fist. His nails dig deep into his palm, piercing skin and drawing blood, yet he feels nothing.
Flames dance wildly within his golden pupils, reflecting the land that raised him—the land now dying before his eyes.
The wind wails once more over the hilltop, swirling up ashes like countless restless spirits lingering and weeping all around them.
原神：璃月血夜
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武田信玄、织田信长与丰臣秀吉的铁蹄踏破璃月港，
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一场惨绝人寰的屠杀将繁华港口化作人间炼狱。
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十八万百姓血染港湾，幸存者寥寥无几。
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逃亡途中，空被敌军砍中左肩，
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当他与同伴们逃至天衡山侧峰回望——
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整座璃月港已沦为屠宰场，
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而敌军将领们竟在城楼上饮酒谈笑，
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比赛谁斩杀的“异界蛮夷”更多……
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---
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火，是首先撞入视野的。
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浓烟像泼洒的脏墨，将璃月港湛蓝的天穹玷污成一片绝望的灰黑。曾经鳞次栉比的飞檐翘角，朱红梁柱，此刻大多成了断壁残垣，或在烈焰中痛苦地扭曲、坍塌。往日停泊着千帆万船的港湾，如今漂浮着破碎的木板和难以辨认的杂物，海水被染成一种不祥的赭褐色，一次次冲刷着岸边堆积的……躯体。
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空气中弥漫着复杂而可怖的气味。硝烟的刺鼻，木石燃烧的焦糊，盖不住那浓烈到令人作呕的铁锈腥气，那是血，汇流成河、浸透土地的血。其间还混杂着一种皮肉被烧焦的恶臭，以及远处隐隐传来的、非人的狂笑与哭嚎。
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空死死咬着牙，左肩传来撕裂般的痛楚。那一刀来得突兀，从一条着火的巷口冲出，对方穿着具足，头盔下是一张被贪婪和杀戮扭曲的脸，口中咆哮着听不懂的语言。他勉强避开了要害，刀锋仍深深咬入了皮肉。温热的血立刻浸湿了衣袖，此刻正透过他紧捂的手指，黏腻地不断渗出。每一下呼吸，都牵扯着伤口一阵阵钝痛。
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“空！再坚持一下！”云堇的声音在耳边响起，带着急促的喘息和无法掩饰的颤抖。她原本华丽的戏服此刻沾满了烟灰和不知是谁溅上的血点，袖口被撕开一道口子。她一手搀着空的右臂，另一只手紧握着一杆不知从哪个倒下士兵手里夺来的长枪，枪尖还在微微发颤，枪缨早已被血污黏成一团。
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八重神子走在稍前，那身平日里纤尘不染的巫女服也蒙上了尘灰，裙摆被撕破了几处。她罕见的沉默着，那双总是含着戏谑笑意的紫眸此刻冷得像冰，锐利地扫视着前方每一个可能藏匿危险的角落。她的手中捏着一个微光流转的符箓，随时准备激发。辛焱断后，她心爱的乐器不知所踪，取而代之的是一柄沉重的阔剑，显然也是战利品。她脸上有着擦伤，摇滚歌手那标志性的不羁被一种沉重的、几乎要喷薄而出的怒火取代，她不时回头，望向那片已成炼狱的港口，牙齿咬得咯咯作响。
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他们这一行四人，夹杂在零星的、同样满脸惊惶与绝望的逃亡者中，正沿着天衡山旁一条陡峭崎岖的小径向上攀爬。这条路平日里罕有人至，荆棘丛生，碎石遍布。每一次落脚，空的左肩就是一阵钻心的疼，冷汗浸湿了他的额发，视线时而模糊。
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身后，璃月港的方向，喧嚣并未远离。金属碰撞的铿锵声，房屋倒塌的轰鸣，还有……那些胜利者发出的、如同野兽般的兴奋嚎叫，混杂着濒死者的哀鸣，织成一张巨大的、令人窒息的网，紧紧缠绕着每一个逃亡者的心脏。
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他们穿过一片被烧焦的竹林，焦黑的竹竿像一根根指向天空的绝望手指。空气中飘来女人凄厉的哭喊，但只持续了短短一瞬，便戛然而止，取而代之的是一阵更加猖狂的大笑。辛焱的身体猛地僵住，握着剑柄的手指关节捏得发白，她几乎要转身冲回去，却被八重神子一把按住手腕。神子没有说话，只是摇了摇头，眼神里是前所未有的凝重。
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他们路过一个不起眼的山洞入口，隐约能听到里面传来压抑的、孩童的啜泣。一个老人蜷缩在洞口阴影里，胸口有一个可怕的血洞，早已没了气息，浑浊的双眼无神地望着灰暗的天空。云堇别过头去，肩膀微微耸动。
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空的脚下突然一滑，碎石哗啦啦滚落山下。左肩的伤口因这突然的动作被狠狠牵扯，他闷哼一声，眼前一阵发黑，几乎栽倒。云堇和辛焱同时用力架住他。
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“就……就快到山顶了。”云堇喘息着说，声音里带着哭腔，却强忍着没有让眼泪掉下来。
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不知又挣扎攀爬了多久，脚下的路终于变得略微平缓。他们冲出了一片低矮的灌木林，眼前豁然开朗——这里已是天衡山侧峰的顶端，一块巨大的、向外突出的岩石平台。
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空挣脱了云堇和辛焱的搀扶，踉跄着向前几步，站到了悬崖边缘。
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然后，他看到了。
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整个璃月港，毫无遮掩地铺陈在他的脚下。
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曾经那个繁华鼎盛、流光溢彩的港口，那个汇聚七国商旅、响彻船工号子与市井喧嚣的不夜城，此刻已彻底沦为一片燃烧的、流淌着血与火的地狱绘卷。
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港口的每一寸土地似乎都在燃烧，黑烟滚滚，火龙沿着街道肆虐，吞噬着一切可以燃烧的东西。往日熟悉的建筑，玉京台、吃虎岩、绯云坡……大多已难以辨认，只剩下残破的轮廓在火光中摇曳。码头上，他曾经和派蒙一起喂过海鸥的地方，现在堆叠着数不清的……人。像被随意丢弃的货物，层层叠叠，填满了街巷，堵塞了河道。
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无数的身影，穿着三种不同甲胄的士兵，如同蚁群般在城市的残骸间穿梭、跳跃。他们挥舞着太刀、长枪、十字文枪，追逐着每一个还能移动的璃月人。刀光闪处，便有生命如草芥般倒下。他看见一个穿着锦缎的商人，抱着头从着火的店铺里跑出，立刻被几名足轻围住，长枪从四面八方捅穿了他的身体。他看见几个士兵撞开一户民居的门，从里面拖出一个尖叫的少女，撕扯着她的衣裳……
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抢劫在光天化日下进行。一箱箱的摩拉、金银器皿、精美的瓷器、古玩字画被从店铺、民居里抬出，堆放在街头，贴上不同纹样的封条。那些象征着璃月千年传承的文物，那些凝聚着匠人心血的艺术品，此刻都被粗暴地打上战利品的标签。
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而最刺目的，是那座虽然受损但依旧巍峨的——天守阁顶层。
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原本属于璃月七星议事、象征着璃月最高权力的地方，此刻竟亮着灯火，人影晃动。隐约能看到几个穿着华丽大铠、气势不凡的将领身影，他们凭栏而立，正对着脚下这片血腥的屠场指指点点。甚至……甚至能看到有人举起了酒杯。
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一阵裹挟着烟尘和血腥气的山风，猛地吹上悬崖，也带来了下方隐约飘来的、被风撕扯得断断续续的狂言：
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“……信玄公……已斩……一百七十三……”
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“……哈哈……信长大人……一百八十九……那个老头……也算……”
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“……秀吉殿下……方才……那两个孩童……凑足两百……”
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杀人……比赛？
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空的胃里一阵翻江倒海的痉挛，不是因为肩伤，而是因为一种彻骨的冰寒，从脚底瞬间窜升至头顶。他全身的血液仿佛在这一刻凝固。十八万璃月港百姓……只有一百多人存活……这些冰冷的数字，此刻与他眼前这片尸山血海、与他耳中那些魔鬼的计数，轰然重合。
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“他们……他们……”云堇也听到了，她的脸瞬间失去了所有血色，嘴唇哆嗦着，却连一句完整的话都说不出来。她踉跄后退，几乎站立不稳，眼中的光彩被无尽的恐惧与难以置信所取代。那杆一直紧握的长枪，“哐当”一声掉落在岩石上。
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辛焱发出一声如同受伤野兽般的低吼，猛地将手中的阔剑狠狠劈砍在旁边的岩壁上，火星四溅。“畜生！一群畜生！”她的怒吼在山崖间回荡，充满了无力与悲愤。
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八重神子静静伫立在那里，山风吹拂着她染尘的发丝和破碎的衣袂。她没有再看脚下的炼狱，而是仰起头，望着被浓烟遮蔽的、昏沉的天空。她的侧脸线条绷得极紧，那双紫色的眸子里，所有的情绪都已沉淀下去，只剩下一种近乎虚无的、却又蕴含着风暴的冰冷。她轻轻开口，声音低沉而平静，却比任何咆哮都更令人心寒：
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“看来……‘神’离开了太久，有些人，已经忘记了璃月这片土地，曾经由何种力量守护。”
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空死死地盯着下方，盯着那座在火焰与鲜血中哀嚎的城池，盯着天守阁上那些模糊而可憎的身影。左肩的伤口依然在痛，但那痛楚此刻仿佛被一种更深沉、更灼热的东西覆盖、吞噬。
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那不是悲伤，不是恐惧，甚至不完全是愤怒。
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那是一种烙印。
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一种必须以血洗刷，必须以火偿还的烙印。
53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR0LrAiNoz4
他缓缓抬起没有受伤的右手，紧紧握成了拳，指甲深深掐入掌心，刺破了皮肉，渗出血珠，他却浑然不觉。
53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡebKWCrxhuX
火焰在他金色的瞳孔深处疯狂跳动，倒映着那片生养了他、如今却正在死去的土地。
53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTU014q20xI
风再次呜咽着吹过山岗，卷起灰烬，如同无数无法安息的魂灵，在他们四周盘旋、哭号。
This chapter is based on real historical events. It takes place after the Japanese army captured Nanjing in 1937. After entering the city, the Japanese troops committed arson, mass murder and looting on a large scale. More than 300,000 Chinese people were killed. The Japanese army showed no mercy even to the elderly and children.
此章节有真实历史原型，故事背景为1937年日军攻占南京后，在城内大肆烧杀抢掠、无恶不作。超三十万中国平民与战俘惨遭屠戮，日军暴行残暴至极，连老人与孩童都惨遭杀害、无一幸免。
and then Add to home screen.