Undercover in Snezhnaya, My Teyvat Spy Life [52]

Eula stood to the side, utterly stunned by what she was seeing.

She’d originally thought that, up against Varka, Artem might not even last three rounds.

Especially now—she had lost her [Vision].

She couldn’t summon [Song of Broken Pines] anymore.

If she tried to help, all she’d do was get in the way.

Her anxiety spiked.

But to her shock, Artem was actually holding his own against Varka.

He’s this strong?

Eula rubbed her eyes, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing.

She wasn’t alone in her surprise. Varka himself was filled with complicated feelings.

He hadn’t held back at all.

Back when he’d sparred with Eula, if he’d taken things seriously, she wouldn’t have lasted more than a few moves. And that was Eula Lawrence, considered one of the top five swordswomen in Mondstadt.

But now?

Artem was going toe-to-toe with him in close quarters—with a bow, no less.

Even giving it his all, Varka still couldn’t take Artem down.

And it wasn’t as if the kid was just swinging his bow around blindly.

No, he was genuinely using a unique martial technique, one Varka had never seen before, a technique made for fighting with a bow.

Paired with that wickedly barbed, spike-studded longbow, Artem’s style was both offensive and defensive, vicious yet endlessly adaptable—far more flexible than the Favonius Swordsmanship Varka used.

On top of that, the kid could wield all seven elements.

Though Artem’s body was covered in wounds, Varka himself had already been struck seven times by this brash young upstart.

Varka—the strongest warrior in Mondstadt for decades—injured seven times by a kid not even eighteen!

It was simply unthinkable.

With a sharp clang, Artem and Varka clashed once again, finally breaking apart after their relentless struggle.

Realizing that pure martial skill wasn’t going to settle this any time soon, Varka’s expression darkened. He got serious.

He spread both hands wide—suddenly, gales whipped up all around, wild Anemo energy surging and condensing. The brilliance of [Skyward Pride] only grew fiercer.

Seeing this, Artem drew a deep breath.

He instantly conjured seven long arrows, each so saturated with elemental energy they were almost solid. Without hesitation, he loosed them at Varka.

With a piercing howl, the arrows tore through the air toward Varka.

“Hmph.”

Varka’s eyes flashed with emerald light as he swung his greatsword.

A torrent of Anemo swirled and condensed into a vivid green cyclone at the tip of his blade.

With the cyclone as its core, the wild wind found its release, surging skyward into a raging tornado.

Artem’s seven-elemental arrows collided head-on with the whirlwind.

But the earth-shaking clash he expected never happened.

Instead, the arrows—meant to ignite with the full force of all seven elements—were snuffed out without even a sound, swallowed up and erased by the tornado.

He's a Consort?!

Artem’s face changed.

He’d spent years in Snezhnaya; he could tell at a glance—Varka wasn’t just wielding ordinary elemental power.

This was the kind of ability that transcended all seven elements. Only a god could bestow such strength.

But what Varka used was clearly Anemo.

There could be only one explanation:

The power of a Divine Consort—granted by the Archon.

Since when did Varka become a chosen of the Anemo Archon?

No, that can’t be. Varka rose to prominence while the Anemo Archon was still sleeping.

So when did he become a Consort?

That thing the Doctor had Crepus steal!

Artem remembered suddenly.

Back when he interrogated Crepus, the man confessed Varka always kept that thing on him.

If both the Doctor and Varka valued it this much, it had to be this.

Never imagined Varka was hiding such a trump card.

But there was no time for further thought.

The tornado, having shredded Artem’s elemental arrows, didn’t stop. It kept pulling in Anemo from the air, growing ever larger as it advanced on Artem.

Bigger and bigger.

So massive that Artem had nowhere left to run.

The tornado’s fierce pull began dragging him in, inch by inch.

Worse still, no matter how much elemental power he hurled at it, nothing could so much as scratch the whirlwind.

The storm only intensified, tearing grass, trees—even whole swathes of earth—from the ruined castle grounds and grinding them to dust.

The decaying old castle itself was ripped apart, stones flung everywhere.

With her cover destroyed, Eula was suddenly exposed to both combatants.

But she couldn’t worry about that now.

Because that raging tornado had already sucked Artem in.

“Lin Feng!!”

Eula screamed, stumbling desperately toward the whirlwind.

“Hm?”

Varka, still controlling the storm, heard Eula’s cry.

He frowned and muttered to himself, “Lin Feng?”

“Shouldn’t she be calling him Artem?”

“And why’s it a Liyue name?”

The distinctly Liyue-sounding name sparked a nameless anger in Varka’s heart, causing his Anemo energy to swell even further.

Eula, barely able to stand, looked like she’d be pulled in any second as well.

Just then, within the emerald tornado, a sudden flicker of violet light appeared.

That purple glow erupted, wild and unstoppable.

In less than a heartbeat, it blossomed into a blazing violet sun.

“What…?”

Varka stared at the violet sun, face grave.

That power...

He recognized it instantly.

It was the same class of might as his own god-bestowed Anemo—yet purer, more refined.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think a god had descended right then and there.

Beneath the force of that purple sun, the mighty tornado was shredded apart—dissipating in an instant.

The world went silent.

Artem, clad in radiant purple armor, slowly drifted down from the sky.

The moment he touched the ground, the armor of godly power unraveled, vanishing into streaks of purple light.

Completely spent, Artem collapsed, coughing violently.

His throat and chest burned as if set alight, his whole body wracked with pain, as if torn apart.

The gap is too big. Just too big…!

Even after devouring a Blackflame Serpent and gaining a surge in strength—

Facing Varka wielding the power of a Consort, he still couldn’t put up any real resistance.

If not for obtaining a god’s might himself, that tornado alone would have ended him.

At last, Artem fully understood Varka’s strength.

Without using the power granted to him by the Anemo Archon, Varka was somewhere between the Fourth and Fifth Harbingers.

With it, he was easily among the top three.

True god-tier power.

This old man was hiding his real strength all along…

“Hmph.”

Varka’s eyes narrowed.

Hoisting [Skyward Pride], he strode across the shattered ruins toward Artem.

Just as he was about to reach him,

Eula burst out of nowhere, flinging herself in front of Artem and shielding him with her arms, pleading desperately.

“Grand Master, please—don’t kill him.”

“Don’t kill him.”

“I’m begging you.”

“Move aside,” Varka said coldly.

“Grand Master, please, I’m begging you…” Eula seemed not to hear, repeating herself over and over.

“Move. Out of respect for your service as a Knight, I won’t say it again.”

“Grand Master—”

Varka said no more. He simply swung [Skyward Pride], striking Eula hard and sending her flying dozens of meters away.

“Eula!”

“Varka, you bastard!”

Artem’s eyes instantly reddened.

In a fit of rage, he tried to stagger to his feet and charge Varka.

But the godly power he’d unleashed had drained him completely.

Each time he tried to stand, his legs gave way, and he crashed back to the ground.

On his fifth attempt, Varka thrust his sword forward—impaling Artem clean through the left side of his chest.

Blood spattered.

Artem didn’t cry out in pain. Instead, he stared at Varka in shock.

He’d started to sense something was wrong the moment Varka revealed he was a Consort.

Now, he was sure.

The old man really was trying to kill him—not just faking it as they’d agreed.

If he hadn’t toughened his body by consuming the Blackflame Serpent, that blow would have killed him outright.

“Why…?”

Clutching the wound as blood poured out, Artem asked weakly.

“Traitors can only wash away their sins with death.”

Varka’s eyes glimmered cold and merciless.

With that, he raised his greatsword again, this time aiming straight for Artem’s neck.

Just as the blade was about to fall...

A frigid aura erupted nearby, turning the summer air to bitter winter.

The wind howled, snow and frost swirling in a storm.

And then—a sword of ice, as huge as a city gate, appeared out of nowhere.

Beneath the towering blade stood Eula, gripping the [Song of Broken Pines].

In that moment, having finally chosen between Mondstadt and Artem, Eula made her decision.

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This is a fan translation of 提瓦特之我在至冬做臥底 by 曉風殘月聽荷 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!