The fox crouched beside Elder 5's broken form, turquoise eyes glimmering beneath the moonlight. Its tail flicked lazily, cutting through the still night.
> "Since you're… unable to repay me yourself," it said, voice smooth and deliberate, "I suppose I'll have to do it for you."
A faint shimmer traced the air above Elder 5's chest. Slowly—almost reluctantly—the storage pouch began to lift, tearing free from the ruined fabric of his robes. Blood glistened along its surface, dripping in steady, dark beads.
> "This will suffice as partial repayment," the fox continued, its tone clinical, almost thoughtful. "Not nearly enough to settle the favor in full, of course. But I am… amenable to compromise."
The pouch hovered, rotating gently, suspended by some unseen force. Elder 5's fingers twitched weakly, as if reaching for it, but failed to grasp. The fox's eyes glimmered with the faintest trace of amusement.
> "Consider it a lesson in generosity," it murmured. "I take what is owed, and you live to bleed a little longer."
A gust of wind carried the coppery scent of blood as the pouch drifted higher, then slid effortlessly to the fox's side, leaving Elder 5 sprawled and helpless.
> "Debts," the fox added softly, almost conversationally, "are best resolved promptly. They fester if left unattended… and I do dislike complications."
It paused, gaze sweeping across the rooftops, tail flicking with calm precision, before turning back to its prize.
> "I'll carry this for now. But remember, Elder—nothing comes without a price."
The storage pouch hovered obediently at its side. For a moment, the fox studied it—then its gaze returned to Elder 5's collapsed body.
Its ears twitched.
> "Of course," it said lightly, as if recalling an afterthought, "that still leaves the greater imbalance."
The fox stepped closer, stopping beside the dark pool of blood spreading across the shattered tiles.
> "You're dead now," it continued calmly. "Which makes repayment… inconvenient. No will. No gratitude. No future service."
Its turquoise eyes narrowed—not in anger, but calculation.
> "So I'll collect the remainder myself as well."
The air shifted.
Blood trembled.
At first it was subtle—just a quiver in the dark pool beneath Elder 5's chest. Then the corpse jerked.
Slowly.
Wrongly.
Elder 5's body began to rise.
Not with strength. Not with Qi. But as if something unseen had hooked beneath his spine and pulled.
Blood streamed from the gaping wound in his chest, dripping in thick, sluggish strands onto the tiles below. His head lolled to the side, jaw slack, eyes rolled white and unfocused—utterly lifeless.
The fox watched, utterly composed.
> "To you, this corpse has value," it said matter-of-factly. "Memories linger. Residual Qi clings. Even a shattered foundation leaves traces behind. To you, it would all rust and rot in time—but to me, it still has worth."
The body lifted higher, feet scraping briefly against the rooftop before losing contact entirely. Blood pattered down like slow rain.
> "Since you won't need it anymore," the fox added gently, "I'll be taking it for myself."
The corpse hovered upright, swaying faintly, as though unsure how to exist without its owner inside. The fox's tail flicked once, and thin threads of Qi—dark, precise, and nearly invisible—tightened around the body.
> "Consider this the remainder of your debt," it murmured. "Your possessions… and yourself."
The fox turned away, already losing interest, the storage pouch drifting beside it and Elder 5's lifeless body floating behind like a grotesque shadow.
> "I do hate unfinished accounts."
It paused at the edge of the rooftop.
Moonlight washed over its slender form, turquoise eyes reflecting faintly in the dark. The pouch at its neck swayed, glowing softly.
The air folded.
The hovering storage pouch—Elder 5's last possession—drifted closer. With a subtle pulse of Qi, its mouth yawned open, darkness stretching far deeper than its size should allow.
The fox regarded it briefly.
> "You were prudent," it said calmly. "Prepared. Careful."
The pouch slipped inside.
There was no resistance. No sound. It vanished without ceremony.
Then the fox turned its attention to the corpse.
Elder 5's body floated forward, limp and obedient, blood still trailing faintly behind it. The fox studied the ruined chest, the lifeless face, the empty eyes stripped of will and defiance.
> "As for you…" it murmured.
Dark threads of Qi tightened, drawing the corpse closer. The fox's pouch opened again—wider this time, swallowing moonlight itself.
The body slid in.
Bones. Blood. Shattered foundation.
All of it disappeared.
The pouch at the fox's neck twitched once… then stilled.
Silence reclaimed the rooftop.
The fox lowered its paw and stood motionless for a long moment, tail swaying slowly as it considered the invisible weight it now carried.
> "Even so," it said at last, voice thoughtful, faintly disappointed, "you still failed to repay the favor in full."
Its turquoise eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but calculation.
> "A corpse has value. Memories. Residual Qi. Traces of technique."
"But value is not the same as equivalence."
The fox exhaled softly.
> "And now you are dead."
It glanced down at the blood-stained tiles where Elder 5 had fallen—empty now. No spirit. No future. No will to bind.
> "There is nothing else to take."
Its tail flicked once.
> "No heirs worth pursuing."
"No debts transferable."
"No life remaining to leverage."
For the first time that night, something like mild dissatisfaction touched its expression.
> "An incomplete account," it said quietly. "How inconvenient."
The fox adjusted the pouch at its neck, brushing its surface as if weighing what lay within.
> "Still… a loss is a loss."
Its gaze lifted toward the distant horizon—where lightning had torn the sky earlier, where another elder had fled.
> "I will remember it," the fox continued. "And should opportunity arise… I will correct the imbalance."
The fox paused once more.
Its ears twitched.
Far in the distance, beyond layered rooftops and jagged silhouettes, the night flickered—violent flashes of light splitting the clouds. Thunder rolled moments later, distorted and heavy, carrying the unmistakable residue of clashing Qi.
The fox turned its head slightly, turquoise eyes narrowing.
> "Still fighting," it muttered.
Its gaze lingered on the distant glow, where lightning fractured the sky again—wilder now, less controlled.
> "So the Fourth-Layer cultivator hasn't fallen yet…"
The fox's tail stilled.
> "Hmph. As expected."
It tilted its head, listening—not with ears alone, but with something deeper, sensing the turbulence of colliding forces.
> "A Fourth Layer cultivator," it continued softly. "Normally, handling one would be quite troublesome."
A pause.
> "And in its current state…"
"Dealing with someone of that level would not be effortless."
There was no frustration in its tone—only calculation.
The fox exhaled quietly.
> "Recklessness would be inefficient."
Its eyes drifted once more to the blood-stained rooftop—empty now, stripped clean of value.
> "There is nothing left for me here."
The pouch at its neck swayed as it turned away, already dismissing the place from its thoughts.
> "I should observe," it decided calmly. "See how the battle unfolds."
The fox stepped forward.
The night folded around it like water disturbed by a passing shadow. Its form blurred, thinned, and vanished—leaving behind only faint ripples of Qi that dissolved into the air.