Teyvat, oh Teyvat! I’ve scoured every inch of Mondstadt’s whispering woods, braved the thunderous, lightning-scorched plains of Inazuma, and even danced deliriously through the shimmering, logic-defying mirages of Sumeru’s rainforests. Yet, nothing—absolutely nothing—could have primed my mortal soul for the gut-wrenching, gravity-defying thrill of plunging into the gaping, stygian maw of The Chasm’s Underground Mines. Even now, in the golden, post-Fontaine era of 2026, veterans still swap tales of that first descent like scarred warriors reliving a cataclysm. And you, brave Traveler, think you can just waltz in? Let me be your manic sherpa.

The path isn’t a casual stroll through a hilichurl camp.

HoYoverse, in their infinite, labyrinthine wisdom, locked the true abyss behind a celestial padlock called the Surreptitious Seven-Star Seal Sundering—a quest so obtuse it could make a Khaenri’ahn astronomer weep. You can’t just accept the Archon Quest “Requiem of the Echoing Depths” and magically phase through bedrock like a ghost. No, no! You must become a demolition artist posing as a geologist. The world quest Chasm Delvers is your only liturgy. It demands that you hunt down and utterly obliterate the Bedrock Keys—glowing, crystalline tumors of the ley lines. The map kindly marks them, but the universe loves a good prank. One of those keys lurks underground, hidden beneath a labyrinth of tunnels that would confuse a Ruin Serpent. I spent forty agonizing minutes chipping away at random walls with my Zhōnglí’s meteor until the earth groaned and the seal shattered with a sound like the sky cracking in two. My ears rang for hours. Glorious!

Now, the real fun: transitioning from the sunlit crust to the eternal night below.

With the seal gone, you face a delicious, terror-tinged choice. Do you leap like a maddened Xiao and glide into the darkness, watching the tunnel walls swallow all light until the surface becomes a distant, cruel memory? Or do you take the ornate, groaning lift, a mechanical behemoth that shudders and clanks as it delivers you into the planet’s esophagus? I chose the lift. The sheer theatricality! It’s not just a transport mechanism; it’s a slow-burn panic attack, a vertical journey where every second multiplies the pressure on your chest. The echoes of ancient machinery blend with the distant, rhythmic pound of something colossal lurking in the abyss. My fingers were frozen on my keyboard, or as frozen as they can be on my 2026-model Holo-Screen integrated tablet. You step out, and the air feels thick, oppressive, and utterly intoxicating.

But wait! You’re stumbling around in the dark like a blinded Sumpter Beast because there’s no Statue of the Seven down here to light up your map. No benevolent Archon’s gaze penetrates this deep. The ground is a void of cartographic despair. Fear not, for salvation wears the guise of a brilliant but overworked cartographer named Jinwu.

You will trudge, panting and swinging a Lumenspar Adjuvant like a holy lantern, deeper into the Chasm Delvers quest chain until you locate the exploration team’s camp—a pitiful but heartwarming cluster of canvas and hope. Speaking to Jinwu is akin to receiving a divine revelation. Part of the map blinks into existence in your interface, a fragmented zodiac of this subterranean hellhole. My god, the relief! It’s not the whole map, mind you. HoYoverse, masters of the slow drip, force you to crawl forward, to earn every square inch of illuminated cartography by pressing deeper into the narrative. The second and third chunks of the map feel even more rewarding, especially as you navigate the treacherous, upside-down eldritch geometry of the Nail’s impact crater.

Even in 2026, with Fontaine’s oceans charted and Natlan’s volcanic terrain familiar, I still reject the soulless efficiency of the Teyvat Interactive Map for my first foray. I know HoYoverse published an official one with every single nail, ore, and Lumenstone Ore meticulously pinned. But where’s the poetry in that? Where’s the soul-shaking moment you stumble upon a forgotten ruin, the soundtrack swells into a weeping chorus of strings, and you discover a Precious Chest hidden behind a waterfall of glowing blue mycelium? The endgame Abyss is just a sterile DPS check; I live for these moments of raw, unguided discovery. So I urge you: use the official map after you’ve clawed your way through the majority of the mines, screamed at a few false walls, and felt your heart stop as a Black Serpent Knight materializes from the gloom. Only then, when your own internal compass is scarred with experience, should you let data fill in the gaps.

The Underground Mines are not just a zone; they’re a primal, vertical odyssey that still stands as one of Genshin Impact’s most audacious design achievements years later. It’s a place where the surface feels like a myth, and every glimmer of a Lumenstone transforms you into a moth chasing the only light that will ever matter. So stock up on stamina-restoring dishes, equip your best healer, and jump. The bedrock is calling.