Moyu's mind raced.
> To think something this strong slipped in… without setting off the alarm. Without triggering the formation. Not a single elder stirred—not even Shen Zhen, who was supposed to be monitoring the array himself.
His breath slowed, becoming shallow.
> The whole point of the array was to detect intruders… to alert us before something like this could happen.
His jaw clenched. He forced his stance to remain steady.
> It didn't just stumble in here. This wasn't random. It came for something.
> It killed Shen Zhen deliberately—and then went straight to the Formation Pavilion. It knew exactly where to strike.
The weight of that realization settled over him like iron. Fear pressed at the edges of his mind—but he shoved it aside.
His gaze flicked to the strange lizard perched atop the fox's head, then back down to the fox's gleaming turquoise eyes. Still calm. Still watching.
He inhaled slowly, steadying his voice.
> No matter what its goal is… I just need to stall for time.
His fingers curled slightly, channeling a slow pulse of Qi through the sleeves of his robe.
> The elders should be arriving any moment now. I sent word before I left. The guards must have reached them by now...
Moyu didn't back down. His Qi rippled faintly — calm but ready.
> "You picked the wrong clan, fox."
His voice was low, even — not a shout, not a plea. Just iron beneath silk.
> "You think killing one elder means victory? You've only made yourself a target. You don't even know what you've stepped into."
He moved half a step to the side — slow, deliberate — forcing the fox to track him.
> "You were after something. Don't bother denying it. Nobody risks this much for sport."
The fox stared back, unblinking. For a heartbeat, the courtyard felt as still as frozen water.
Then the fox spoke, voice smooth and almost amused.
> "Is that the best you can come up with?"
A pause. The lizard's tail gave a lazy flick atop its head.
> "Tch."
> "You're just stalling, aren't you?"
The fox tilted its head, eyes narrowing slightly, turquoise light cutting through the shadows.
> "Let me guess… buying time until those Foundation Establishment cultivators of yours arrive?"
Moyu's breath caught—his pulse jumped. How—
Before the thought could finish, the fox's voice slid in, silencing it.
> "Don't bother."
Its smile widened, calm and merciless.
> "They're all already dead."
---
Moyu's breath hitched.
> No. That… can't be possible.
His mind rebelled, grasping for some flaw, some crack in the facade. The elders… dead? All of them? Even—
His eyes dropped, almost involuntarily, to the faintly glowing pouch hanging from the fox's neck.
It pulsed once, then flickered open with a delicate shimmer. From within floated a fan—white silk stretched across pale bone ribs, ink-brushed with an elegant mountain pattern.
Moyu froze.
> That's…
The fan drifted lazily, catching the wind as if hovering low beside the fox.
"Take a good look," the fox said, voice smooth as mist.
Moyu didn't need to. He knew that fan.
It was the spirit tool of Head Elder Lianhai—the fifth-layer elder. The strongest among them.
His knees nearly buckled. His throat went dry. He didn't move—didn't need to. The truth crashed into him without mercy.
> Then it's true.
> They really are… all dead.
Elder Huang. Shen Zhen. The entire defense hall. All of them—dead.
No warning. No resistance. No survivors.
The weight of it hit not like a strike, but like a hollowing—as if someone had scooped the breath from his chest and replaced it with silence. For the first time, the courtyard felt empty.
He was standing alone on broken ground.
And the fox.
Moyu's fingers twitched.
The fox watched him with calm eyes in silence for a breath, the fan still drifting gently beside it before it flew back into the pouch.
Then it spoke again, softer now—but the steel underneath had sharpened.
"Now that you understand your situation," it said, voice dropping low and cold, "I suggest you act wisely—and do as I say."
The courtyard darkened slightly as a gust passed overhead. The lizard's wide gold eyes blinked; its tail flicked.
The fox's Qi leaked from its form, pressing outward.
"If you don't… your entire clan will share their fate."
---
Moyu didn't speak at first.
He couldn't.
His mouth was dry, his pulse thudding in his ears. The courtyard felt too still now—the breeze too loud, the sky too far.
Qi pressed against him like a tide. The fox didn't move, but the air around it shimmered faintly—thin threads of killing intent slipping from its form like smoke.
> They're all dead.
The thought wouldn't leave him. His mind tried to push past it, to find footing, but it circled back again and again.
> Head Elder Lianhai. Elder Huang. Shen Zhen. Everyone.
Gone.
Still, Moyu didn't flinch. Not now. Not in front of this thing.
He forced a breath through his lungs. Shaky, shallow—but steady enough.
His fingers loosened slightly, drawing his Qi back into his center. It wouldn't be enough—not against something like this—but it was something to hold onto.
His voice came low and quiet, scraped raw around the edges.
> "What do you want?"
Just that.
No challenge. No posturing. He barely had enough left for either.
Only the question. The one that mattered now.
The fox smiled—not triumphant, not mocking. Just… pleased.
It sat back on its haunches, the lizard shifting slightly on its head, curling its tail once more.
"I was wondering," the fox said, tone light again, "how long it would take you to ask."