It all started with that fateful notification on my phone—a push from the HoYoLAB app that made my heart skip a beat. I’d just wrapped up my daily commissions near the Grand Narukami Shrine when I saw it: Yae Miko was getting a rerun banner in the upcoming Version 4.7 patch. Sure, I’d been playing Genshin Impact since 2020, but back in 2022 when the Guuji first graced the limited banners, I was in the middle of a long overseas work trip with barely any signal. I’d missed her entirely, and the regret had been gnawing at me ever since. Now, in early 2026, I finally had a second chance—and I wasn’t about to let it slip. I immediately logged out of the game and started digging through old forum posts and forgotten bookmarks to piece together what Yae Miko really needs.

I remember the old leaks like they were yesterday. When Version 2.5 was still in beta, someone on NGA had spilled the beans: Yae’s ascension required Sea Ganoderma and Handguards. Over the years, I’d mindlessly hoarded a fair number of those materials, but “a fair number” isn’t exactly what a 5-star character demands. You need 168 Sea Ganoderma, along with over a hundred Handguards in three different rarities, just to push her from level 1 to 90. Add in the weekly boss drops, the talent books, and the Electro Jewels, and suddenly it’s a full-time job. Did I really want to spend my evenings chasing floating blue mushrooms and duelling ronins? Yes, absolutely, because it’s Yae Miko we’re talking about.

The first thing I tackled was the Handguard family: Old Handguards, Kageuchi Handguards, and Famed Handguards. Over the years, Mihoyo hasn’t changed the drop sources—they still come from those wandering Nobushi and Kairagi ronins scattered across Inazuma. My Adventurer Handbook quickly became my best friend. I had barely touched Inazuma’s wilder islands since the Sumeru desert and Fontaine’s underwater regions stole my attention, so the ronin populations had replenished nicely. With a few taps, I tracked every single camp on Narukami, Kannazuka, and Yashiori islands. I built a route that I could repeat daily: start from the Kujou Encampment waypoint, glide down to the cliffside samurai, then weave through the treacherous beach near Fort Fujitou. In about thirty minutes, I’d racked up dozens of handguards—and quite a few hilariously failed parries. You’d think after six years I’d learn to dodge those flaming katana slashes, but no.

Sea Ganoderma was a different beast. I vividly recall when this material first appeared in the 1.6 Golden Apple Archipelago event. It was a limited-time paradise of azure water and whimsical puzzles. Nowadays, Sea Ganoderma dots the entire Inazuman coastline like glossy blue pearls. However, unlike the ronins, they don’t drop in bulk; you have to physically pluck each one, and they respawn every two real-world days. I pulled up the official interactive map—yes, the same one that’s been saving travelers since launch—and marked every cluster. The perimeter of Seirai Island alone offers a gorgeous loop, but I also hit the shores near the Kamisato Estate and the quiet sands west of Ritou.

As I gathered those glowing fungi, I couldn't help but wonder: why did Inazuma have so many bizarre ascension materials? And why did they all seem to enjoy remote, thunderstorm-prone cliffs? I’d lost count of the times I slid off a wet rock and had to climb back up, muttering curses. But the ocean view was always worth it, and I’d occasionally spot a stray Electroculus I’d missed years ago.

The real grind, however, was the boss material. Yae Miko uses Dragonheir’s False Fin, dropped exclusively by the Bathysmal Vishaps in Enkanomiya. I hadn’t ventured down into that sunless realm since the Three Realms Gateway Offering event, and frankly, I’d forgotten how oppressive the atmosphere felt. The twin Vishaps still sit in the Dainichi Mikoshi arena, spinning and spewing their elemental breath. My Navia hypercarry team made short work of them, but the RNG of getting the right boss drop—and enough of them—was maddening. After a week of daily visits, I’d collected just enough Fins to ascend Yae to her final phase, plus a mountain of unwanted Shivada Jade. I also needed Electro Jewels, which meant sacrificing some of my fragile resin to the Electro Hypostasis. Let me tell you, nothing humbles you like watching a giant purple cube repeatedly murder your under-built support character.

Talent materials were the final piece of the puzzle. According to the old 2.5 leak notes, Yae requires the Light branch of Inazuma’s talent books (Teachings of Light, Guide to Light, Philosophies of Light), and her weekly boss material comes from the very boss that debuted back then: the Raiden Shogun’s puppet, or as we now know it, the “End of the Oneiric Euthymia” domain. I still crinkle my nose at the memory of farming that boss the first time; her lightning-fast combos and that terrifying Baleful Shadowlord phase gave me nightmares for weeks. Even now, with my fully built Zhongli shield, I approach that domain with a respectful bow and a prayer. And of course, handguards resurface here too—every talent level consumes them, so my earlier ronin genocide turned out to be a wise investment.

So here I am, in the spring of 2026, sitting on a hoard of 168 Sea Ganoderma, 18 Dragonheir’s False Fins, stacks upon stacks of handguards, enough Electro Jewels to make Lisa jealous, and a brand-new set of Thundering Fury artifacts I crafted using the Mystic Offering system. I’ve even prefarmed something I never thought I’d need: a spare Kagura’s Verity, because last year’s weapon banner finally decided to be kind to me. All that’s left is for Mihoyo to flip the switch and let the Guuji descend into my team.

Was it worth the time? Honestly, yes. There’s something meditative about methodical farming when you know exactly why you’re doing it. Each sea-wet mushroom, every severed handguard, brought me one step closer to finally filling that fox-shaped hole in my roster. And when I imagine Yae Miko gracefully pacing the Narukami Shrine with her sly smile and thunder kitsune tails, I know I’ll be ready. In the end, being a Traveler isn’t just about slaying gods—it’s about patience, preparation, and a borderline unhealthy obsession with a certain shrine maiden. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go farm more handguards for her final talent crown.