The difference between something broken and something unraveled.
The thought lingered like a taste of iron in the back of the fox's throat.
It turned its gaze back to the three elders, who now stood shoulder to shoulder—bloodied, wary, their qi fields flaring bright in defiance. For all their composure, fear still clung to them, subtle but palpable, woven into the rhythm of their breathing.
The fox tilted its head slightly. Perfect.
"Tell me, Elders," it said, voice soft as mist. "How long has it been since your formation failed this way? Or do you believe it's coincidence—that your barrier collapsed the same instant your Sixth Layer guardian fell?"
Meirong's jaw clenched. "Don't speak his name."
The fox smiled faintly. "I don't need to. You already know what that means."
It let the words sink in, letting silence fill the spaces between. Each breath, each heartbeat was a weight on the air. The spear hovered beside it, turning in a slow, deliberate circle—a predator idly tracing its prey.
"Do you even know what tore it down?" the fox asked, stepping forward just enough to make the tiles creak. "Because I didn't. I was inside your walls when it was destroyed. I didn't even touch your array."
Qianlong's eyes flickered for the barest second—doubt, quickly smothered.
"Nonsense. It's not coincidence that you appear exactly the moment the barrier shattered."
"Maybe it is," the fox said. "Maybe not. But tell me—why can't you no longer sense your other two elders?"
That struck. Meirong's knuckles tightened; the fourth elder's aura spiked involuntarily. Qianlong said nothing, but his sword arm trembled slightly, the glow around it flickering.
The fox lowered its gaze as if in pity. "No response from either of those two. The barrier gone. And me—" it gestured lazily with its tail, "—still standing here. You think that's an accident?"
It leaned forward, eyes gleaming turquoise in the moonlight. "I wonder if they're already gone too."
The courtyard fell silent but for the rustle of wind through ruined beams. Even the air seemed to hesitate.
> They're swallowing it whole, the fox thought, watching the smallest twitch of their expressions. Good. Let them believe they're surrounded.
Qianlong finally found his voice. "You speak nonsense," he said, but his tone lacked conviction. "The Lin Clan does not fall to tricks."
"Then prove it," the fox whispered. "Attack me. Right here. If you think this is truly all you face."
The three hesitated—just for a breath, but the pause was enough.
The fox's turquoise eyes glowed. Its smile widened, not in mockery but in quiet satisfaction. "Thought so."
The spear rose, its hum filling the air again. "Now, let's see how long your courage lasts when even your shadows start answering back."
It flung a pulse of qi—not lethal, but perfectly tuned. The energy struck the courtyard, splintering the air with echoes: three phantom heartbeats, deep and resonant, as though unseen figures had stepped into existence behind each elder.
Meirong gasped, spinning—nothing there.
Qianlong felt a presence brush the edge of his mind—cold, vast, gone in an instant.
The fox watched them flinch and took a slow, measured breath.
> Fear's a finer weapon than any blade.
It turned away, tail swaying, letting the illusion linger a few moments more. "You'll be seeing me again, Elders. But when that happens…" It glanced back, eyes like polished glass. "…it won't be mercy that comes for you."
Then the fox blurred, its outline dissolving into the mist. The spear followed—one streak of black vanishing into silence.
The courtyard fell still again. The remaining elders stood frozen, their senses straining into the night.
Qianlong's eyes widened. His voice came low, steady but hoarse. "What was that? Was it an illusion? Something else is here. Find the others. Now."
Qianlong drew breath to issue another command—
—but the words never came.
A wet, metallic spray split the air.
Blood hit his face.
His eyes widened, frozen. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the red streaking down his cheek, the warm trickle running over his jaw. Then, out of the corner of his vision—movement.
The two elders beside him—gone.
One lay sprawled on the tiles, a gaping hole torn clean through his chest; the other, who had just moments before stood upright, now had his head slide from his shoulders, crimson spraying in a perfect arc under the moonlight.
The body toppled.
CLANG!
The spear streaked straight for Qianlong's head. But a golden barrier erupted, sparks flying where the black tip slammed into the protective qi. The air rippled from the force, electric and sharp.
The fox stood beyond, tail swaying lazily, eyes narrowing. It clicked its tongue softly.
"Tch. Too bad," it murmured. "I thought you'd be as careless as the others."
The spear pulled back, circling obediently before hovering beside its master. The fox tilted its head, studying Qianlong through the shimmer of his barrier.
"At least one of you isn't completely stupid," it said.
Qianlong's breath came harsh, uneven. Blood still dripped onto the barrier's surface, hissing where it touched his qi. His gaze flicked from the fox to the corpses, disbelief and fury warring in his eyes.
The fox's expression remained calm, voice almost conversational.
"Still, that won't save you for long."
It raised one clawed hand—the spear tilted forward, perfectly poised.
"Now, Elder," the fox said softly, "let's see how much longer your defense lasts when you're the only one left to hold it."
The spear shot forward again—CLANG! Sparks flew. The barrier held, but the spear still pushed.
The barrier shuddered violently under the sheer force of the strike. Cracks spiderwebbed across its golden surface, sparks flying where the edges of his protection met the unrelenting pressure. Qianlong remained frozen, eyes wide, mind spinning.
What the hell just happened?
Both elders… they had been standing there, alive—one to his left, the other to his right. And in the next heartbeat, one's chest had been pierced, the other's head severed, blood spraying, their bodies collapsing as though gravity itself had conspired against them.
He blinked, trying to process the impossible. His heart hammered. He hadn't seen anything—no movement, no shadow, no trace of attack—but both were dead.
His thoughts raced. I still can't wrap my head around what just happened. How can two Fourth Layer Foundation Establishment cultivators be killed so easily? It's like a dream.
His eyes widened. Was I dreaming up to the point I felt the warm blood splash across me? It felt like I was in some kind of illusion. An illusion… that's it. That must be it. That explains what just happened.
The golden barrier wavered as the spear struck again, though this time it stopped short, hovering inches from his face. Sparks showered around him, and Qianlong's grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles whitened.
A soft, knowing chuckle cut through the tension.
"Took you a while," the fox said, its turquoise eyes glinting in the moonlight, a faint smile brushing its muzzle. "But… it's a little too late."
Qianlong's breath caught. His mind, still scrambling to reconcile the impossible, could barely form words.
The fox tilted its head, tail swaying lazily, spear humming faintly in its grasp. Every movement was calm, precise—yet the weight behind it was undeniable.
"You've figured it out," it murmured. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if it would take even longer."
The barrier, his final line of defense, cracked further—tiny golden fractures racing across its surface as the fox studied him, patiently, almost indulgently.