The lantern light of the Night Market flickered across the fox's illusioned face as it walked.
Calm.
Unhurried.
But its mind moved quickly.
Fifty-six thousand spent.
Nearly eighty-three thousand remaining.
More than enough.
But not enough to waste.
Three days…
It disliked waiting.
Waiting meant variables.
Variables meant risk.
And if draconic essence truly was appearing in three days, it needed to be prepared—not hopeful.
The fox slipped between two crowded stalls, turned down a narrow passage, and passed through a hanging cloth curtain as though it were mist.
On the other side—
Silence.
A quieter district of the Night Market.
Private vendors.
Unregistered traders.
The kind who did not ask questions.
It walked until it reached a low wooden structure lit by a single blue lantern. It stopped. Raised a paw.
Knocked once.
The door opened almost immediately.
An old man with clouded eyes stared at it.
"…You again," he muttered.
The fox tilted its head slightly.
"I need formation components."
The old man stepped aside.
Inside, shelves lined the walls—formation inks, spirit sand, rune stones, binding threads.
The fox's gaze moved carefully over the inventory.
"I need portable concealment arrays. High grade."
It began selecting items:
— Three high-density concealment plates.
— Spirit-suppression dust.
— Qi-disruption pins.
— A small anti-divination shard.
— Rune-infused anchor stakes.
The old man calculated silently.
"Thirty-one thousand."
The fox did not bargain.
"Take it."
A pouch appeared.
Changed hands.
The goods vanished into storage.
The fox moved swiftly through the thinning Night Market crowd, its illusion steady, its steps measured.
But its thoughts were elsewhere.
"…You again."
That tone.
Too familiar.
Too casual.
The fox's eyes narrowed faintly beneath the illusion.
I've traded there before… yes.
But never with the same face twice.
Never with the same aura signature.
Never with the same presence.
It was meticulous about such things.
Its illusions adjusted height, build, voice texture—even scent traces.
So why had the old man spoken like that?
Recognition?
Guesswork?
Or something deeper?
The fox did not slow.
It exited the Night Market through a side passage, lantern glow fading behind it.
The moment it cleared the alley—
It leapt.
Roof to roof.
Silent.
Fluid.
The wind barely stirred beneath its paws.
River M's skyline blurred as it crossed building after building, finally landing lightly near the inn. Without breaking stride, it slipped through the outer wall with a subtle distortion of illusion and stepped inside as though it had never left.
The hallway was quiet.
The defensive formation hummed softly.
Intact.
Untriggered.
Good.
It entered through the window it had used earlier. The barrier rippled faintly to admit it, then sealed again.
Inside—
Stillness.
The lizard remained exactly where it had been left.
Curled.
Unconscious.
Surrounded by faint currents of energy.
The talismans the fox had placed earlier glowed dimly, stable.
The fox watched for a long moment.
"…Still refining."
The energy around the lizard was denser now. Heavier. Occasionally, a faint spark of lightning flickered across its scales before vanishing. The air pressure in the room felt subtly altered—as though something vast slumbered beneath something small.
"This is going to take a long time," the fox muttered.
It stepped further inside, letting the illusion dissolve.
Its true form emerged in the dim lantern light.
If the private auction in three days truly held draconic essence—
There would be predators.
Real ones.
Not greedy scavengers from the forest.
Genuine factions.
Hidden forces.
And without the lizard—
It would not be able to handle the aftermath alone.
The fox's tail flicked once.
"If I win the bid…" it murmured, thinking aloud, "there will be people following. Strong ones."
Sixth layer at minimum.
Possibly higher.
Even with preparations, even with formations—
Alone, it would be pressured.
It glanced again at the lizard.
"…So wake up strong."
Silence answered.
The fox moved to the window and looked out over the sleeping town of River M.
A small town.
Insignificant on most maps.
And yet—
Private auctions.
Rumors of draconic essence.
Unusual cultivator movement.
Strange vendors who spoke too familiarly.
An old man who recognized what he shouldn't.
"…Why has River M become this dangerous?"
The fox crouched by the window a moment longer, watching the dim lanterns flicker along the streets.
Its ears twitched.
Its tail swayed once.
Then it let out a quiet scoff.
"…There should at least be a gap," it muttered.
"A small one."
"For those of us struggling to survive."
Its voice wasn't loud.
Not bitter either.
Just tired.
It turned and began pacing slowly across the room, claws clicking faintly against the wooden floor.
"Private auctions. Draconic essence. Top-tier talismans. Formation masters hiding in forests. Sixth-layer cultivators hunting in packs…"
It huffed softly.
"And this is supposed to be a backwater town."
Its gaze drifted to the curled lizard.
"Meanwhile, some of us claw our way up inch by inch. Scraping spirit stones from corpses. Refining scraps. Trading tools just to afford materials."
A faint smile tugged at its muzzle.
"Would it kill the heavens to leave a little breathing room?"
The room remained quiet except for the low hum of the defensive formation.
The fox walked closer to the lizard and crouched beside it.
"You," it said softly, studying the energy pulsing beneath its scales, "just eat, sleep, and wake up stronger."
Lightning flickered faintly along the lizard's horns.
The fox leaned back slightly.
"Some of us don't even get to close our eyes."
It exhaled.
Then its expression hardened.
"Fine."
"If there isn't a gap… I'll carve one."
It rose to its paws.
If River M wanted to become dangerous—
Then it would become dangerous too.
Not by waiting.
Not by complaining.
But by preparing.
Its eyes gleamed faintly in the dim room.
"Struggling to survive?" it murmured.
"Then struggle smarter."
The fox turned back into the room.
Three days.
It would use every hour.
Whether the lizard woke or not—
It would be ready.
But deep down—
It would rather not walk into that storm alone.