Chapter Twenty: The Fox

Still within the stone chamber deep in the mountain’s heart.

As Chen Heng withdrew from the True Realm, his true body seated upon the central meditation mat slowly opened its eyes. Two brilliant beams flashed forth, steady and luminous as candlelight.

“Ying ying, ying ying, ying ying ying ying~”

Chen Heng glanced sideways.

From outside the dwelling, faint cries and gnawing sounds reached him, made by some small beasts. Judging from the commotion, it was not just one, but a whole pack.

“Ying ying, ying ying, ying ying ying~”

Before long, the creatures began their chorus anew. This time, the sound of impact echoed from the entrance—thudding and banging—mixed with pained yelps that made quite a lively scene.

“Fools.”

A cold smile crept across Chen Heng’s face as his heart steadied.

At first, he suspected Yan Ping had disregarded the sect’s rules, traveled across mountains to seek vengeance in Lanliang City. Thus, beneath his wide sleeves, his left hand was already gripping the Thunderfire Pearl, ready to unleash it should trouble arise—even if it meant depleting his vital essence.

But hearing this ruckus, it was clearly a group of spirit-awakened beasts causing mischief, and not particularly clever ones at that.

The banging outside was not only stones being thrown… The cries of pain and loud wails suggested some dim-witted creature was foolish enough to ram its head against the door, hoping to break it open.

Judging by the howls, not only had the attempt failed, but likely resulted in a few bumps on their heads.

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“The stone sealing the door weighs nearly ten thousand pounds. It’s moved by mechanisms for entry and exit. If you try with your head, you’ll be knocking until your next life with no success.”

Chen Heng chuckled quietly.

He ignored the “ying ying” clamor, took out a small White Sun Pill, dropped it into a bowl of water, and drank it once the pill dissolved.

Soon, a gentle warmth spread throughout his limbs, soothing him like bathing in spring sunshine. He exhaled in satisfaction.

Even though the sound within the dwelling was subtle, it was still noticed.

The pack of beasts fell silent, then grew even more excited, their cries rising in a frenzied chorus, as if wild spirits were dancing. Seeing Chen Heng refuse to emerge, they believed he feared them, howling louder and louder in triumph.

Among them, the dull thud of heads striking the door continued, stubborn and relentless.

Chen Heng paid them no mind.

Once the White Sun Pill’s medicinal power was fully absorbed, he rose at leisure, sword hanging at his waist, and took the large vermilion bow from the cave wall.

“The cries resemble foxes, perhaps?”

Listening intently, Chen Heng realized their identity.

Yang Mountain was not originally the domain of Yang Mountain Daoist; its true masters were a clan of white foxes who cultivated the incense-and-spirit path.

It was only because Yang Mountain Daoist wielded powerful talismans that he shattered their temple, drove them out, and claimed the mountain.

What became of the foxes afterward, where they wandered, remained a mystery.

Yet Chen Heng was surprised that, after the Daoist’s death, the foxes had returned to their old home, even brazenly provoking him, the rightful occupant.

“How amusing. Yang Mountain Daoist could defeat you, so why shouldn’t I be able to kill you?”

He calmly fastened the quiver to his back, his eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

“Your golden bodies are broken, your temple burned. Though you cultivate the divine path, it’s not so easy to restore your foundation. Now you come knocking—do you think my sword is powerless?”

He turned the arm that controlled the mechanism; with a grinding sound, the heavy stone slid aside.

Chen Heng stepped out, hand on his sword.

It was a night of sparse stars and bright moon, the ground shimmering like frosted silver, chill and desolate.

“Which fellow Daoist lurks here, playing spook? Will you show yourself for a proper meeting?”

Chen Heng gripped the Thunderfire Pearl within his sleeve and called out firmly.

The surrounding brush rustled, and countless phosphorescent green beast eyes flickered in the shadows, like will-o’-the-wisps.

Three times he called, and no answer came. Then, from afar, a woman’s laughter rang out—clear as silver bells, sweet and melodious, seemingly nearby.

Chen Heng recognized the fox’s ploy to lure him away, but felt no fear. He swept his sleeves and followed the sound.

He climbed several small hills, walked for half the time of an incense stick, and soon heard the rush of a waterfall.

It was a small mountain cascade, the source of water for Yang Mountain’s disciples.

There, in the pool, bathed a beautiful woman clad only in white silk, barefoot. Her beauty was strikingly seductive; her figure voluptuous and mature, the wet silk clinging to her skin, outlining her curving chest and slender waist. At a glance, desire flared in the belly.

“The long night is lonely, tormenting the heart. To meet you tonight, young master, is a stroke of fortune. Would you share a pillow with me this eve?”

She lifted her head, speaking in a honeyed, alluring voice:

“I am—”

Her words abruptly ceased.

At that moment, moonlight broke through the clouds, pouring down bright and clear, bathing Chen Heng in its glow. The ground shone like liquid silver.

The youth stood quietly in the moonlight, clad in dark robe, skin luminous as snow, bearing an air of transcendent elegance, as if he were a piece of jade freshly rinsed from pure waters—so beautiful one dared not gaze directly.

His features seemed crafted by Heaven’s own hand; though a noble exquisite aura surrounded him, his eyes, cold as deep palace snow, gave his face an aloof and timeless grace.

Stone piled like jade, pines aligned like emeralds, his beauty peerless and unrivaled.

The woman in the pool stared, dumbfounded, before snapping herself awake with a slap.

“Perhaps… give me a moment, I’ll change my face?”

She forced a laugh, nervously bargaining, “Do you mind if I wear your face in female attire?”

“Is this your answer?”

Chen Heng sneered, drew his bow, and fired!

As the arrow flashed across the sky, a thunderclap exploded, and a white-furred male fox shrieked, fleeing with an arrow stuck in its hindquarters, crashing into the stone wall behind the pool and vanishing.

His flight triggered a wave of panicked “ying ying” cries. Dozens of white foxes, big and small, scrambled to leap into the stone wall.

One particularly dim-witted fox, head swollen with bumps, circled helplessly, unable to find the hidden entrance, crying out in distress.

“How interesting—a formation?”

Chen Heng kicked the hapless fox aside, slipped through the stone wall himself.

Instant darkness enveloped him.

After a few breaths, his vision cleared, revealing a vast space.

Pavilions, towers, and houses stood in order.

Opposite him, several dozen paces away, stood a youth in yellow robes, clutching a ritual sword, watching Chen Heng with fear and astonishment.

After a moment, he summoned his courage and shouted:

“Who dares make trouble here! This… this is the Nine Sovereigns Changyang Golden Palace of the Crimson Bright Sect, you—”

Before he could finish, Chen Heng loosed three arrows in succession, sending him sprawling.

By the time the youth staggered upright, dazed, a large red-and-white pearl hovered above his head, crackling with thunder and flame.

“Fellow Daoist, fellow Daoist, I—Tu Shan Ge—was only joking with you, please don’t…”

The yellow-robed youth’s knees buckled, trembling as he pleaded:

“Please put away the pearl, don’t—don’t spoil the peace between our clans!”