Suddenly, everything froze.
Elder 5's eyes widened in shock as the world around him tore apart, splintering like the surface of disturbed water. He coughed violently, blood spattering his lips, as fragments of his shattered barrier rained down beside him. Disbelief rooted him in place.
A black spear shot past him, cutting the air with lethal precision. It streaked straight toward the fox, who remained eerily calm, standing as though nothing at all had happened.
> "Your defensive barrier was tough," the fox said, its voice calm—almost teasing. "Breaking through it took longer than I expected. I thought you might shatter the illusion before I finished… but I managed to complete it first."
Elder 5's mind reeled.
Illusion…?
He coughed again, blood hot in his mouth, and glanced downward—then froze.
A jagged, bloody hole yawned through his chest.
Not real…? Or was it?
His legs trembled and gave way. He collapsed to his knees, shaking, muttering through blood-stained lips.
> "It… it was an illusion… everything… was it all an illusion?"
The fox tilted its head, the black spear hovering effortlessly at its side. Turquoise eyes glimmered beneath the moonlight.
> "No… not really," it replied. "Maybe… just from the moment you started talking to yourself."
Elder 5's chest heaved as panic surged. His pulse thundered in his ears. The world felt unstable—uncertain—as though the night itself had shifted. He had survived… or had he?
Every instinct screamed caution. Every ounce of his cultivation demanded clarity.
The fox's gaze never wavered.
Calm. Predatory. Testing.
For the first time that night, Elder 5 understood: illusions were merely tools—and the fox had already demonstrated how lethal its game could be.
The fox continued, voice steady and conversational, as the black spear slowly rotated beside it.
> "You're only at the Third Layer. In a direct, head-on clash, your chances of winning were close to zero."
Its turquoise eyes narrowed—not in mockery, but in calculation.
> "But I couldn't afford to let my guard down. Not even once."
The spear hummed, a low, ominous vibration that resonated through the shattered rooftop.
> "That would've been stupid," the fox added calmly. "Who knows what kind of technique you're hiding… or what spirit artifact you haven't revealed yet."
Elder 5's vision swam. Blood dripped steadily from his mouth, splashing onto the broken tiles beneath his knees. His Qi churned wildly, instinctively trying to stem the bleeding and stabilize his shattered core—but the wound was deep.
Too clean. Too precise.
So this is it…
No grand clash. No final exchange of techniques.
Just… control.
He forced himself to look up.
The fox stood exactly where it always had—unharmed, unhurried, untouched by the chaos it had created. The illusion, the barrier, the fear—it had all been a test. A careful dissection of his reactions, his awareness, his limits.
> "You never intended to confront me fairly from the very start…" Elder 5 rasped.
The fox tilted its head slightly.
> "Fair?" it echoed, amused. "No. I intended to survive."
Its gaze flicked briefly toward the distant sky—where Elder 1 had fled—before returning to Elder 5.
> "And those who fight fairly don't live long."
The spear drifted closer, stopping just short of Elder 5's throat. Near enough for him to feel the cold, void-like Qi radiating from it.
> "Now," the fox said softly, "tell me something, Elder."
Its eyes gleamed.
> "Do you still believe this was ever under your control?"
Blood pooled around Elder 5's knees. His vision wavered, colors bleeding into shadow, the edges of the world curling like smoke. Every breath was a struggle; every heartbeat sounded distant and hollow, as though it belonged to someone else.
This… this is it, he thought dimly. I'm… dying here…
And yet—defiance, stubborn and sharp, cut through the haze.
He forced his eyes toward the fox. It stood calmly, the black spear rotating lazily beside it, turquoise eyes unblinking.
> "Your situation… isn't entirely hopeless," the fox said, its voice smooth, almost gentle. "At least… now, you'll reunite with your companion."
Elder 5's lips twitched painfully, forming a ragged whisper.
> "Y-you… piece of—"
His voice cracked. Blood spilled from his mouth as the words tore free.
> "You… lying… snake…"
The fox tilted its head, amusement flickering across its features.
> "Lying? When did I—no… perhaps I did you a favor," it said softly, almost kindly. "Though I admit, your dramatics are entertaining."
Elder 5's vision spun. Darkness crept in from the edges as his body trembled violently, life draining away. Yet even as his knees buckled and he slumped toward the cold rooftop, his fierce gaze remained locked onto the fox.
> "I… I'll… kill… you… if I… live… again," he rasped, each word a jagged shard of defiance.
The fox's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, its tail flicking lazily.
> "Perhaps," it murmured, "but that is for another night."
Elder 5's eyes finally rolled back. His strength failed, Qi dissipating like dying embers. Even in the haze of death, one thought burned bright and bitter:
He had not—would not—submit.
And with that, his consciousness slipped into darkness, leaving only the fox and the cold, silent night.
The fox watched as Elder 5's body slumped fully onto the shattered tiles. For a moment, there was only the whisper of the night wind and the faint hum of the black spear.
Then the fox spoke again.
> "That favor I just did…"
Its voice was light, almost idle, as though discussing the weather rather than life and death.
The fox stepped closer, stopping beside the fallen elder. Moonlight traced the sharp lines of its silhouette, turquoise eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
> "…I would like it to be repaid now."
It crouched, gaze drifting over Elder 5's broken form, studying him with calm, clinical interest. The smile on its muzzle deepened—small, precise, unmistakably foxlike.
> "I don't like someone owing me," it continued softly. "Debts have a way of lingering. Festering. Turning inconvenient."