Elder 5's heart raced, yet the sudden clarity that the lizard's attention had shifted away did little to calm him. His mind snapped to the fleeing elder—Elder 1—streaking across the moonlit rooftops, Qi flaring wildly around him.
It's going after him…
Every instinct screamed caution. The lizard was wounded, yes—but even a wounded Third Layer predator could annihilate him. And yet… if they worked together, if Elder 1 and I coordinated… maybe, just maybe, they could stand a chance.
Doubt clawed at him. The one who ran… he abandoned me. Without hesitation. Without a second thought. Can I trust him?
The cold night pressed in from all sides, carrying the faint crackle of residual lightning from the lizard. Elder 5 clenched his fists, forcing his thoughts into order. No. I can't let him die—not like this. If Elder 1 falls… if the Luo Clan loses even one foundation establishment cultivator… everything is over. We cannot survive as a clan with only me left.
He took a deep breath, letting Qi surge, stabilizing the barrier around him. His resolve hardened. I can't trust him fully. But I won't let him perish either. I'll do what must be done… for the clan.
A faint whistle of wind fractured his thought.
The fox—silent, deliberate, turquoise eyes glowing like molten jade—was now standing beside him on the roof. Its presence was sudden, impossible, the way it had always seemed to materialize in the periphery of perception. And now it was here, only a step away.
Elder 5 froze.
When did it—?
The fox's gaze pinned him in place, calm and unnervingly deliberate. Its tail flicked once, slicing through the moonlit air. A soft hum of Qi radiated from it, subtle but undeniably powerful. It wasn't attacking—not yet—but its intent was unmistakable.
Elder 5's eyes widened, heart hammering. When did it get here…? His gaze darted downward, then around—anywhere but the fox—and terror caught his mind in a snap. He had been so fixated on the lizard, on its golden eyes, on its deadly precision… he hadn't even noticed the fox, silently observing all along.
He exhaled sharply, the sound shivering against the night air, and instinctively tightened his barrier. The dome of Qi flared, bright and jagged, shielding him from any immediate threat. He had not lowered it fully—not yet—and that moment of hesitation might have saved him.
Then the fox spoke. Its voice was calm, almost playful, but carried the weight of a predator that had seen far too much.
> "Hump. Guess you finally notice my presence."
Elder 5 froze, jaw tightening.
> "You were just standing there… staring blankly. I thought you'd lost your mind from the shock… from witnessing your companions' deaths."
The turquoise eyes glimmered under the moonlight, reflecting a knowing, almost cruel amusement. Every movement was deliberate, measured—tail flicking, ears twitching, body poised like a spring ready to strike.
Elder 5's pulse thundered. The barrier hummed faintly, resonating with his rising Qi, as if sensing the fox's latent power.
He swallowed hard. Shock… yes. Fear… absolutely. But losing my mind? Never.
And yet… the calm, unnerving voice, the quiet precision of its movement, the way it had simply appeared beside him—he couldn't deny the truth. His mind had frozen the moment he realized the lizard's deadly potential, the moment he understood the weight of the threat, the moment Elder 1 had fled, leaving him alone.
The fox's presence was no accident. It had been there all along, waiting, testing, observing.
> "You should be more aware, elder," it murmured, voice silk over steel. "There are many threats in the night. Not all strike immediately… but all are watching."
Elder 5's hands tightened into fists, Qi crackling along the surface of his barrier. This creature… it wasn't just a companion. It was a predator in its own right. And it was judging him.
A chill ran down his spine as the fox took a single, deliberate step closer. Its turquoise eyes locked onto his, unblinking, calculating. Elder 5 could feel its intelligence pressing against his mind, subtle but undeniable, like a weight on his very thoughts.
He forced himself to stand taller, chest heaving, barrier flaring brighter. I won't falter. I won't… lose my mind. I may not trust the one who fled… but I will not let this night—these creatures—dictate the end.
The fox's tail flicked once, slicing through the moonlit air, and it tilted its head, almost amused, almost bored.
> "Good. At least you're awake now. I was beginning to wonder if I should send you to join your companions on the floor…"
Elder 5's pulse thundered. Every rational thought screamed caution—but a new, sharp determination cut through the terror: he wouldn't be caught off guard again. Not by the lizard, not by the fox, not by the night itself.
And as he braced, watching the turquoise glow of the fox's eyes, he realized that surviving this encounter would require more than power—it would require cunning, precision, and nerves of steel.