[EARLY ACCESS] SHRINK IMPACT | GENSHIN IMPACT - CHAPTER 33

The Cloud Retainer’s Spring shimmered with old magic, a hush of mist and ripples echoing under the mountain’s shadow. Mona and Ganyu paused at the edge, you held safe between their joined palms. Both wore the exhaustion of a long journey, hope mingling with fear as they beheld the fabled waters.

It was Ganyu who called out, clear and deferential:

“Cloud Retainer—Xianyun, please! We seek your wisdom. We have someone here who has been caught in a magical accident, and we believe the spring’s power might restore them.”

The air changed at once.

A swirl of blue-gold light condensed into a tall woman in flowing black and teal, her hair swept up with an artisan’s pin, red glasses flashing in the sun. Her expression was grave, her bearing almost regal, yet there was warmth beneath the solemnity.

“One hears the plea of Ganyu, and perceives both urgency and sincerity.”

Xianyun’s voice was melodic and formal, each word chosen with care. Her eyes, sharp as a crane’s, fell upon you—small as a berry in Mona’s hands.

“This one is indeed Cloud Retainer. The Traveler’s plight is unusual, yet not without precedent. However, it must be known that this spring, refined by thousands of years, cannot be polluted by stray curses or unstable magic. Prudence compels this one to examine the afflicted before allowing them to enter the waters.”

She extended her hand, talon-like fingers curling gently. Mona hesitated, but after a nod from Ganyu, surrendered you to Xianyun’s palm. Her touch was unexpectedly delicate—cool, featherlight, but unyielding.

“Wait here,” Xianyun instructed. “One’s duty is to Liyue’s protection first; only the pure may receive the spring’s blessing. Any taint, left unchecked, could have dire consequences for all who dwell below.”

She glided away, her long robes whispering over mossy stone.

The path behind the Cloud Retainer’s Spring twisted through ancient rock and dripping moss, each step echoing with the surety of Xianyun’s stride. She had carried you gently, and you felt fairly relaxed and assured that finally, you were in the hands of someone who would actually help you.

So you thought. 

Xianyun’s quarters were strange and beautiful: shelves of blueprints, mechanical birds in glass domes, lanterns casting trembling gold shadows. But what drew your eye—what chilled your blood—were the rows of glass jars and lacquered boxes along the far wall. Your jaw dropped when you realized what you were seeing.

Inside, you saw them: other people, each no bigger than you. A middle-aged scholar, a merchant’s daughter in festival silks, a small, frightened couple. Some paced restlessly. Others curled up, pale and exhausted, resigned.

Shrunken people!? Like me!?

Xianyun placed you atop her worktable, talon-like fingers lingering for a heartbeat too long. Her glasses glinted in the lantern light. For a moment, she seemed to study you with the detached curiosity of a scholar.

“One must commend your companions for their loyalty,” she intoned, her voice still formal but colder now, the warmth gone. “It is no short journey they made. Alas, their cause is a futile one.”

You stared at her, heart pounding. “W-what do you mean? You said you’d help—”

She interrupted, voice crisp and quiet, “Such is the story told to mortals, yes. That the Cloud Retainer’s Spring is a place of healing. That an adeptus is bound by duty and benevolence alone.”

Her smile widened, the faintest edge of hunger in her eyes.

“One is, above all, a creature of appetite. Why else keep such delicate morsels? For study? For quarantine?” She laughed softly—a musical, chilling sound. “No, little one. One finds mortals…delicious.”

You recoiled, unable to help it. The glass jars, the pale faces—they weren’t guests or patients. They were food. The spring, the quarantine, her careful formalities—it was all a pretense, a way to lure the unwary.

Xianyun stepped closer, looming over you. The tips of her taloned fingers clicked gently on the table.

“Worry not. One is not without grace. You shall not go to waste. In truth, it is rare to find a mortal so attuned to magic—flavored, as you are, by passion, fear, and longing. Your friends will be told a gentle lie. Your fate, however…” Her smile was impossibly wide now, eyes bright behind her red glasses, “…is to be savored.”

You backed away, stumbling, every instinct screaming.

Xianyun’s silhouette filled your world, her hand closing off escape, her gaze gleaming with centuries of patient, predatory hunger.

“One is not unkind, little Traveler,” she crooned, almost gently. “But one is always…hungry.”

You understood then that there was no help here. Only a fate you would have never believed—until you saw the truth for yourself.

You stared up at Xianyun, still refusing to believe what you’d heard. Surely this was some kind of cruel jest, or a test of character—a riddle to be solved, not a truth.

“You…you’re joking,” you managed, voice trembling. “Adepti don’t—no, you wouldn’t. You said you’re here to protect Liyue—!”

Xianyun let out a small, delicate laugh, her eyes glimmering behind her red glasses.

“One did not lie about one’s duties. But protection takes many forms. One’s hunger is simply another law of nature—ancient and absolute. To deny it would be to betray the balance of this world.”

Her taloned fingers tapped on the glass lid of a jar, where the merchant’s daughter—a young woman in silk, her hair still half-done for some festival—looked up in mute dread.

“Perhaps you require proof, little Traveler.” Xianyun’s tone was casual, almost instructional. She lifted the jar, removing the lid with a practiced flick. The captive shrank away, pressing herself into a corner of the velvet lining, her hands shaking.

Xianyun’s talons curled delicately around her chosen victim, the merchant’s daughter trembling in her grasp, eyes wide and shining with fear. The adeptus regarded the tiny woman for a moment, lips parting in a faint, pleased sigh—as though she were savoring the aroma of a rare delicacy.

She drew the girl toward her face, her breath a soft, humid draft that sent wisps of the captive’s hair fluttering. Xianyun’s eyes half-lidded with anticipation, her lips parting to reveal a wet, glistening mouth and a glimpse of her tongue, pink and inviting. The girl’s cries went thin and shrill as Xianyun traced her against her lower lip, teasing herself—and her meal—for a breathless moment.

“One must admit, the anticipation is almost as sweet as the taste,” she purred, her voice reverberating against the small body in her grasp. “Few mortals realize the privilege of being consumed by an adeptus.”

She slid the merchant’s daughter into her mouth slowly, savoring every twitch and whimper. Her tongue pressed up, rolling the captive against the roof of her mouth, swirling her in a slick caress. You saw her throat ripple with pleasure as she suckled gently, eyes fluttering closed in delight. Xianyun let out a quiet, almost lewd moan, her cheeks tinged with color as she drew the struggling woman further in with another lazy sweep of her tongue.

Finally, her jaw flexed and she swallowed, a long, slow movement that sent a shudder down her entire frame. The bulge traveled down the graceful line of her neck, Xianyun’s throat working with languid, sensual satisfaction. She pressed her fingers lightly to her throat, as if feeling the faint, panicked thrashing within, savoring every fleeting sensation.

When the bulge disappeared, she exhaled—a breathy, contented sigh. Her lips glistened, parted in an expression of deep, quiet ecstasy.

Xianyun dabbed the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, her composure restored, but her eyes glowed with lingering hunger and delight. She turned her gaze back to you, smiling serenely as if she’d just tasted the rarest wine.

“One is always grateful for such exquisite morsels,” she murmured, her voice low and honeyed. “Does one still doubt the gravity of your situation, little Traveler?”

The room felt colder, the air thinner. You could only stare, heart hammering, as Xianyun’s tongue flicked across her lips—hungry for more.