The forest sang with an ancient silence.
Golden leaves fell without wind, swirling like petals frozen in time. Moss-covered trunks hid the cracks of forgotten temples, and the cracked stone of collapsed columns still bore inscriptions no one alive could read. There, beneath the canopy of eternally still branches, a small figure slept, shrouded in mist.
It was a tiny white fox, small enough to fit between the roots of a fallen tree. Her fur, though dulled by dust, still shimmered with a faint silver glow, as if the moon itself had breathed upon her. Only one tail swayed faintly with each slow, fragile exhale.
A spiritual seal —barely visible to mortal eyes— hovered above her like an inverted lotus, slowly dissolving under the weight of time.
And then, it happened.
The seal cracked with a soft, distant chime.
The little fox opened her eyes.
At first, nothing made sense. The world was a blur of light and muffled sounds. Her tiny body trembled, cold, as though she had slept through a thousand winters. She stood unsteadily, her small paws faltering. Her ears twitched, trying to make sense of the forest's whispers, the rustling branches, the faint murmur of a wind she didn't recognize.
"Where… am I?" a voice echoed faintly in her mind, though she didn't yet understand how she could speak.
She remembered nothing.
Not her name. Not her past. Not her purpose.
But deep within her spiritual core pulsed a strange warmth. Not fear —something else. A shapeless sadness, as though she had lost something precious. Or someone.
She tripped over a stone and tumbled forward, nose wrinkling. A flash of frustration bloomed, sharp and instinctive, and a tiny burst of unconscious Qi rippled from her, snapping a dry branch nearby. She froze in shock.
There was Qi inside her. Weak, unsteady… but hers.
"What… am I?"
Above her, the moon climbed high, sliding between the treetops. In the still pond nearby, her reflection wavered. And for a heartbeat, it wasn't a fox she saw… but a young girl, silver light dancing in her eyes.
She blinked.
The vision vanished.
Confused and frightened, she curled beneath fallen leaves, trembling.
And so the night passed.
And the next.
And the next moon.
Nameless. Memoryless. Alone.
Only the forest… and her instincts.
Years later…
The little fox had grown, though her size remained small. Now she moved with quiet control, a white shadow gliding through the forest without a trace. She had learned to avoid humans, hostile beasts, and the cultivators who sometimes traveled the ancient paths.
She avoided them all… until that night.
The sky shook with a roar.
A figure fell like a comet, wrapped in golden flames. It crashed into a nearby clearing, shattering trees, tearing the earth apart. Birds fled. Beasts howled. But the little fox —instead of running— drew closer.
And she saw him.
A young man in celestial robes, his body broken and bloodied, his face as perfect and untouchable as a statue carved by the heavens. His chest rose and fell shallowly. His sword, shattered. His spiritual ring, fractured. His face… serene, even in the shadow of death.
The little fox stared.
And something deep inside her —something buried and wordless— cracked.
A single tear slid from her eye.
She didn't know why.
She only knew she couldn't let him die.
With small, trembling steps, she dragged him —biting at his robe, pushing with her tiny body— until she reached her hidden sanctuary: a cave behind a waterfall, warm and hidden, a place she had found long ago.
There, not knowing her own name, not knowing his, she began to care for him.
Day after day.
Night after night.
Warming him with her body. Cleaning his wounds. Bringing him water and wild herbs.
And for the first time since she had awakened in this strange, quiet world…
She was no longer alone.