That day Yuhon didn't left at night and rested. Afterall his first mission was successful. So, he rested then woke up next morning and as usual left for school after breakfast.
---
The relief from his successful debut as the Grinning Fox lasted only a day.
The crash came during lunch, under the same tree, with a single, offhand comment.
Mei plopped down across from him, her friend Jin hovering nervously behind her. "So, Yuhon. The Grinning Fox."
Yuhon's heart did a little flip, but he kept his face neutral, munching on an apple. "What about him?"
"I was thinking," she said, her eyes sharp and analytical. "He moved really well, right? Took down four guys. But… he wasn't that big. I talked to the baker again. He said the Fox was fast, but kinda lean. Maybe about your height, actually."
The apple suddenly tasted like ash. My height. He'd been so focused on the mask and the voice, he'd completely forgotten the most basic thing: his own silhouette. He was a slim, fifteen-year-old farm boy. Of course he had a recognizable build. It was a monumentally stupid oversight. His father's voice echoed in his head: 'Reckless.'
Jin, trying to be helpful, piped up. "But Mei, lots of people are that height! It doesn't mean anything!"
"It's a data point, Jin," Mei countered, not taking her eyes off Yuhon. "It narrows the field. He's not some hulking outsider. He's probably local. And if he's local and that skilled…" She let the implication hang in the air.
Yuhon forced a laugh, hoping it didn't sound as strangled as it felt. "You're overthinking it. Probably just some martial arts nut from the next town over with a weird sense of justice." He stood up, brushing off his pants. "I've gotta… go check on something. For… agriculture class."
He beat a hasty retreat, Mei's suspicious gaze burning into his back. He had a new mission, far more important than thumping low-level thugs: he had to learn to change his entire physical presence.
---
That evening, the farm became his dojo.
"Dad?" Yuhon asked, finding Zerkon lifting massive sacks of fertilizer into the barn as if they were pillows. "You know how you always say a farmer needs to be strong in many ways?"
Zerkon grunted, hefting a hundred-kilo sack onto his shoulder with ease. "A strong body and a strong mind. Yes."
"Right. Well, my mind is… strong. But I was thinking… my body is kinda… wiry. What if I wanted to look… bigger? More imposing? You know, for… intimidation. To scare off pests." The lie was flimsy, even to his own ears.
Zerkon stopped, setting the sack down. He looked at his son, a slow, deep understanding in his eyes. He didn't smile, but a faint crinkle appeared at the corners. "Intimidation isn't about size, son. It's about presence. But…" He walked over and placed a massive hand on Yuhon's shoulder. "To change how you are perceived, you must first master the tension in your own body. Every muscle. From the soles of your feet to the top of your skull. You don't need to be bigger. You need to project bigger."
He demonstrated, and Yuhon watched, fascinated. His father didn't visibly grow, but his posture shifted minutely. His shoulders seemed to broaden, his chest expanded, and he seemed to occupy more space, radiating a palpable, solid energy. It was a trick of muscle control and aura.
"It is about making yourself… dense," Zerkon said, his voice a low rumble. "Pull everything in. Tense, but not rigid. Imagine you are a rock in a stream. The water—the eyes of others—must flow around you, unable to see your true shape clearly."
Yuhon practiced for hours. It was far more subtle and difficult than any flashy power. It was about micro-control, about holding his body in a state of controlled potential energy. By midnight, drenched in sweat, he could hold the pose for a few minutes. In the mirror, his slim frame seemed thicker, his shoulders squarer. It was a start.
---
Two nights later, his new skill was put to the ultimate test. He was on a late-night "walk"—really just listening for trouble from the rooftops—when a shrill scream cut through the quiet night, followed by the roar of a powerful engine.
He dropped to a lower roof, peering down an alley. His blood ran cold. A black van was idling. Two men in sleek, tactical gear—a world away from the Black Pigeons' street clothes—were forcing a struggling figure into the back. The streetlight caught the victim's face for a split second.
Mei.
"—told you she was a snitch," one man growled, his voice muffled by his helmet. "Her little report to the Guild tip-line got our operation in Lanzhou raided. The boss wants to have a… conversation."
"Just get her in. She's feisty for an E-rank civvy," the other grunted, shoving her inside.
A-rank. They had to be. The gear, the confidence, the mention of a multi-city operation. This was leagues beyond anything he'd faced.
Panic threatened to freeze him. A-rank. They'll kill you. Run. Get your parents. But his parents were miles away on the farm. By the time he got them, Mei would be gone. There was no time.
The Fox had to act. Now.
He leaped from the roof, landing between the van and the mouth of the alley. He immediately fell into the posture his father had taught him. His frame seemed to swell in the shadows, no longer a lanky teen but a solid, menacing figure.
"Let her go," the voice that came out was deeper, distorted by more than just the mask. It was filled with a projected, resonant power.
The two men froze, surprised by the sudden appearance. One recovered, laughing. "What's this? The neighborhood watch? Scram, kid, before you get hurt." He drew a knife that hummed with faint energy—a monomolecular blade.
The other wasn't as dismissive. His eyes scanned the Fox's stance, the deliberate, powerful posture. "Wait. Look at his build. Intel said something about a local vigilante."
The first thug sneered. "This guy? Please don't make me laugh." He lunged, the energy knife slicing through the air where Yuhon's throat had been.
Yuhon didn't dodge. He moved. He flowed inside the man's guard, his movements economical and brutal. He caught the knife-arm, his grip like a steel vice, and twisted. There was a sickening crack. The man screamed, the knife clattering to the ground. A sharp elbow to the temple silenced him.
The second thug's eyes widened. He didn't see a kid anymore. He saw a predator. He backpedaled, raising his wrist-comm. "We've got a problem! The Fox is here! He's—!"
Yuhon was on him in a flash. A low kick swept the man's legs out. As he fell, Yuhon drove a knee into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He ripped the comm from the man's wrist and crushed it in his fist.
The side door of the van burst open. A third man, bigger than the others, emerged. This one radiated danger. "Enough games," he snarled, his hands crackling with raw electricity. A-rank for sure.
He unleashed a torrent of lightning. Yuhon's instincts screamed to counter it with his Scarlet Thunder, to dominate it. But he couldn't. Not without giving everything away.
So, he moved. He became a blur, weaving between the bolts that scorched the alley walls. He closed the distance, but the electric hunter was ready, meeting him with a punch supercharged with power.
Yuhon took the blow on his crossed arms. It hurt. It really hurt, the electricity jolting through him, making his teeth rattle. It burned through the sleeve of his hoodie, searing the fabric.
The hoodie!
An idea, born of desperation and cunning, flashed in his mind. As he skidded back from the force of the punch, he let his own Blue Flame erupt—not from his hands, but across his chest and shoulders, just for a fraction of a second. It was a controlled, precise burst.
The blue fire consumed the already damaged hoodie, vaporizing the cloth from his torso upwards in a spectacular flash, leaving his upper body exposed.
The electric hunter paused, stunned by the sudden display of fire. And in that moment, he saw. The figure before him was not the slim boy he might have expected. The torso revealed was corded with defined, powerful muscle, the physique of a seasoned warrior, not a teenager. The Fox's build was now completely, undeniably different from Yuhon's.
From inside the van, Mei gasped, her eyes wide, taking in the shocking transformation.
"You…" the electric hunter breathed.
"Me," Yuhon growled, his voice a promise of violence. He didn't give the man another second. He surged forward, no longer holding back his speed. He moved faster than the A-rank hunter could track, a fist clad in Silver Frost connecting with his jaw. There was a sound like ice cracking. The man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
Yuhon yanked open the van door. Mei was tied up, staring at him with a mixture of terror and awe.
"You…" she whispered.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice still low and rough as he tore the bonds from her wrists.
She shook her head, mute. Her eyes were fixed on his chest, on the clearly muscular torso that belonged to a fully grown man, then traveled up to the same grinning fox mask.
"Your… your clothes…"
"A minor inconvenience," he grunted, pulling her from the van. "Can you run?"
She nodded, finding her voice. "Yes. Thank you. I… who are you?"
"Just a fox passing through," he said. He pointed down the alley. "Go. Now. The police will be here soon. Tell them everything… except this part." He gestured to himself.
She hesitated for only a second before nodding and sprinting away into the night.
Yuhon stood alone in the alley, surrounded by three unconscious A-rank hunters, his secret safe behind a mask of ceramic and a newly forged physique.
---
Yuhon returned, quietly slipped back into his room, the adrenaline slowly fading, replaced by a deep, satisfying fatigue. He stored the mask away. The muscular tension left his body, and he shrank back to his normal, slim self. He pulled on a simple t-shirt and padded downstairs for a glass of water.
His mother was in the kitchen, brewing a late-night pot of tea. She looked up, her eyes sweeping over him. "Couldn't sleep, dear?"
"Just thirsty," he said, his voice back to its normal pitch.
She nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on him for a moment too long. She took a slow sip of her tea, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips.
"You know, Yuhon," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "It's a strange thing. I was reading the news earlier. There was a report about a failed kidnapping tonight. They said the Grinning Fox showed up again. Apparently, he's far more… well-built… than anyone suspected."
Yuhon froze, the glass of water halfway to his lips.
Aoqi's smile widened, just a touch. "It's funny how appearances can be so deceiving, don't you think?"
She didn't wait for an answer, simply turning to leave the kitchen. "Don't stay up too late. We have a lot of weeding tomorrow."
Yuhon stood alone in the quiet kitchen, his mother's words hanging in the air. She knew. She had to know. And the fact that she hadn't confronted him directly was the most terrifying, and exhilarating, thing of all.