The courtyard seemed to inhale.
A slow, hollow pull—like the world itself bracing.
Qianlong's fingers tightened around his sword hilt as a pulse of mid-stage aura rolled across the shattered stone again—sharper this time, more defined, like a blade sliding free of its sheath.
The fox didn't so much as blink, but inside its mind—sharp, fast, predatory—thoughts collided in rapid succession.
Why is he here?
Its tail flicked once, stiff with tension.
Was he drawn by the commotion?
By the noise of the battle?
By the moment the sixth-layer aura vanished?
No. No… that doesn't fit.
The fox's pupils narrowed.
Even if the fight was loud—and it was loud—they were not the type to intervene because of noise. They'd ignored disturbances before.
The commotion at the Shen estate hadn't made him so much as turn his head.
Then was it the disappearance of the sixth-layer presence?
The moment the barrier shattered?
The fox replayed the sequence in its mind—fast, precise.
The barrier broke.
The sixth-layer aura vanished.
And at that exact heartbeat—
He moved.
For him to reach this courtyard so quickly…
For him to appear the exact instant the aura vanished…
No.
No, that's wrong.
A slow, cold realization unfurled through the fox's chest.
He didn't move because of the battle.
He didn't move because the sixth-layer died.
He didn't rush here from across the city.
This timing…
This precision…
It was too perfect.
He was already here.
A faint tremor rippled through the fox's limbs—one it suppressed immediately, but the fact it appeared at all was telling.
He was watching.
Its mind sharpened, slicing through memory and qi patterns like a blade.
The silence after the barrier broke.
The absence of any aura.
Not because no one was present…
…but because he hid it.
Because he masked it deliberately.
This cultivator…
He didn't appear.
He revealed himself.
The fox felt its heartbeat coil into a tight, hard knot deep in its chest.
So that's it.
He had been observing the entire time.
Watching the sixth-layer.
Watching the formation crack.
Watching the elders die.
Watching us.
> "Since when was he watching us? He couldn't have been watching when we arrived in the city; that's impossible—we weren't detectable then. So was it at the Shen estate? Or was it the moment we started fighting? Was he drawn here… or was he already standing in the shadows, waiting for the right moment?"
The fox's tail lowered, instinct shifting from aggression to pure caution.
He wasn't triggered by commotion.
He wasn't reacting at all.
This was premeditated.
Qianlong—breathing hard, trembling slightly—had no idea why the fox had gone so still. He couldn't see the rapid calculations flashing behind those turquoise eyes.
He only knew that the fox, who had been fearlessly trading blows moments ago, now seemed… cautious.
The fox clicked its tongue softly.
Careless. Predictable. Human.
But its expression tightened.
If he's here…
then the other Foundation Establishment cultivator from that family is probably on the way too.
And that…
was a problem far too large to ignore.
> "Whatever happens next, I need to end this fight before anyone else arrives," the fox thought.
Qianlong looked toward the distant clash, eyes narrowed with unease. He didn't know the details the fox perceived, but he understood enough to sense danger.
"…Elder Lin Canghua… his energy seems weaker than before," he muttered quietly.
The fox's gaze snapped to him, eyes bright with sharp calculation.
"Guess you've noticed it too. His cultivation isn't what it once was. Yes, he's still mid-stage, but he isn't the same mid-stage cultivator from your clan. The energy you sensed is the mid-stage cultivator from the other family," the fox said. "And if he's been pulled here, the commotion must have been too big. The battle shook half the district. The recoil from the earlier fight with your clan's sixth-layer…"
Its claws scraped stone.
"He couldn't have ignored it."
Qianlong inhaled sharply.
"And when he approached—he sensed Elder Lin's presence just vanish."
"Exactly."
The fox's voice was flat.
Its tail flicked once—slow, deliberate.
A predator's gesture, turquoise eyes glowing.
Qianlong, still shaken from the battle, didn't notice the subtle shift in its posture.
But the fox had already begun weaving.
Deception was just another kind of spell.
"Exactly," it repeated, cool and edged with something unreadable.
Then it added—smoothly, carefully—
"But you misunderstand one thing."
Qianlong turned, confusion flickering across his face.
The fox lowered its gaze, letting its fur settle, posture easing—just enough to look less threatening, just enough to invite trust. In truth, every muscle was coiled like a spring.
"You sensed the sixth-layer aura weaken, yes," the fox continued. "But what you felt… wasn't because he was injured."
Qianlong froze, tension rising.
"…What do you mean?"
The fox clicked its tongue.
"You humans really don't know your own clan's politics. The one who disappeared wasn't the sixth-layer cultivator."
Qianlong's eyes widened.
"Nonsense—I sensed it—"
"That was a false aura," the fox interjected smoothly. "Generated by an artifact. A decoy imprint meant to mimic a sixth-layer cultivator. You think someone like him would die without a sound? Without even burning his life force to take his killer with him?"
Qianlong swallowed.
The fox watched every twitch in his expression.
He was buying it.
Good.
"Then… who was the aura we felt earlier?" Qianlong whispered.
The fox gave him the answer he was primed to accept.
"A traitor from the other clan. Someone pretending to be stronger than he was. He used a faked cultivation imprint and died when the barrier collapsed. That's why the aura vanished instantly. Impostors die fast."
Qianlong paled.
Perfect.
The fox stepped closer, its voice softening—almost pitying.
"And the mid-stage presence that approached? That wasn't who you think. No…" It leaned toward him, eyes half-lidded. "That was the Elder from the other clan."
Qianlong's breath caught.
"E-Elder? But the grand elders of the families only intervene when—"
"When someone in the clan commits an unforgivable mistake."
The fox let those words sink in.
Let them rot.
Qianlong staggered back a step.
"W-wait… are you saying he came because of me? Because I—?"
The fox didn't answer immediately.
Silence is the sharpest blade.
It lowered its head as if reluctant to speak—then whispered:
"He's coming to erase the witnesses."
Qianlong's heart cracked in his chest.
Now.
The fear was perfect.
Unbalanced.
Distracting.
Exactly as the fox planned.
Because fear blinds humans far faster than darkness ever could.
Qianlong's voice trembled:
"T-then what do I do…?"
The fox smiled inside.
Out loud, it only breathed:
"You survive."
Its muscles tightened.
Claws extended.
Qi surged like a rising tide under its skin.
"And for that…"
The fox's pupils thinned to predatory slits.
"…you'll need to trust me."
It moved.
A whisper of wind.
A killing intent concealed beneath the mask of concern.