The child stepped closer until she stood directly in front of the lizard.
Then she reached out.
Soft fingers pressed against its scales.
Warm.
Curious.
She giggled faintly and patted its side as though testing whether it was real.
The lizard did not move.
No attack.
No threat.
Just… small hands.
She continued touching it—tracing the edge of its wing membrane, pressing gently against its cheek as if fascinated by the texture.
Then—
She grabbed one of its horns.
And one ear.
And pulled.
The lizard's body stiffened instantly.
A low growl rumbled from its throat.
A warning.
Not violent.
But unmistakably clear.
The child blinked—
Then smiled wider.
The fox watched the scene with mild amusement, one brow lifting slightly.
"I think she likes you," she said lightly.
The lizard's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Unnecessary contact," it thought.
The fox's expression shifted as her gaze drifted past them—across the ruined village.
Dark.
Silent.
Heavy with the lingering residue of death.
Broken doors. Collapsed beams. The faint scent of blood still clinging to the night air.
"We can't stay here for the night," she said, her tone turning serious.
"I was almost killed by a Golden Core cultivator just a moment ago."
Her eyes hardened, a thin line forming at the corner.
"I don't intend to brush against death twice in one evening."
She glanced toward the distant horizon.
"If there's a village here, there must be a larger settlement nearby. A city. Or at least a town."
Her gaze returned to the child, who was still stubbornly gripping the lizard's horn.
"We can't leave her here."
A brief pause.
"We'll bring her along."
She adjusted the pouch at her waist.
"Drop her somewhere safe in a city or town."
Practical.
Temporary.
Nothing more.
The lizard growled again as the child tugged its ear with renewed enthusiasm.
Its tolerance thinned.
But still—
It did not attack.
Not prey.
Not a resource.
Just small.
And loud.
The child tugged harder.
The lizard's eyes narrowed sharply.
"Stay away," it said, voice firm and clear.
It pulled back in one smooth motion. Its wings spread with controlled precision, and with a single powerful beat, it lifted into the air.
Mid-flight, its body shrank.
More compact.
More manageable.
Control flawless.
It circled once above them before descending and landing lightly atop the fox's head. Its claws rested carefully against her hair, balanced and steady.
Distance restored.
Below, the child stood still.
Her small hands remained half-raised in the air.
She blinked slowly.
Then tilted her head back.
Red eyes stared upward.
Watching.
Unmoving.
As if trying to understand why it had left.
She continued staring.
No tears.
No fear.
Just quiet confusion.
Then—
She lifted both arms fully this time.
Reaching.
Small fingers opening and closing toward the lizard perched above.
The lizard looked down at her.
Expression blank.
One ear twitched.
"Persistent," it thought.
The fox exhaled softly.
"She's attached already," she murmured.
The child took a small step forward.
Then another.
Still reaching upward.
The fox shifted her stance to maintain balance as the lizard adjusted its footing atop her head.
"We don't have time for this," she said quietly.
Her gaze swept across the dark horizon beyond the ruined village. The air still carried faint traces of death qi.
Lingering danger.
Unknown observers.
"We're leaving."
She stepped back from the village's center.
The child followed immediately.
Small steps.
Unsteady.
But determined.
The lizard observed from above.
"She is following," it thought.
No command had been given.
No bond had formed.
Yet she followed.
The fox noticed as well.
She stopped walking.
The child stopped too.
Watching her.
Watching the lizard.
Waiting.
The fox let out a slow breath.
"If we keep walking, she'll trail behind until she collapses."
Her gaze lowered to the child once more.
Small.
White-haired.
Red eyes fixed on the lizard as if nothing else in the world mattered.
"…Troublesome," she muttered.
She bent down and lifted the child into her arms.
The girl was light.
Too light.
Cold from the lingering yin qi that still clung to the ground.
The moment she was lifted, her hands reached upward again—toward the fox's head.
Toward the lizard.
The lizard shifted slightly to avoid her grasp.
"Persistent," it thought again.
The child made a soft sound of dissatisfaction but did not struggle. She simply leaned against the fox's shoulder, eyes still angled upward.
The fox adjusted her hold and turned away from the ruined village.
"Alright. Let's go," she said quietly.
No more lingering.
No more investigation.
The traces of the earth serpent had long since faded.
The ghosts were sealed.
The puppet destroyed.
Nothing of value remained.
She stepped past the broken gate and onto the dark path leading away from the village.
The night wind brushed against her robes.
Behind them, the village stood silent.
Dead.
Abandoned.
The lizard glanced back once.
No movement.
No pursuit.
Still—
Risk remained.
The fox increased her pace.
Not running.
But swift.
Controlled.
The child rested quietly in her arms now, small fingers gripping the fabric of her robe.
Her red eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.
They moved through the forest path.
The fox's steps were light.
Measured.
Never reckless.
Distance first.
Rest later.
The child remained quiet, watching the world blur past with wide, unblinking eyes.
Above, the lizard's ears twitched constantly.
Wind direction.
Ground vibration.
Distant movement.
Nothing hostile.
For now.
Time passed.
The ruined village was far behind them.
The density of yin qi in the air gradually thinned.
Life returned to the surroundings.
Insects chirped softly.
Small beasts rustled in the undergrowth.
Normal night sounds.
Then—
Lights.
Faint at first.
Golden specks flickering on the horizon.
The fox slowed.
Ahead, rising beyond the treeline—
City walls.
Tall.
Solid.
Lanterns burned steadily along the perimeter.
A proper settlement.
Guards stationed at the gates.
Even at night, there was movement.
Carriages creaked across the road.
Late travelers approached.
Merchants arriving before dawn.
The fox narrowed her eyes.
"A city," she murmured.
Better than a small town.
Safer.
Harder for a demonic cultivator to act openly within fortified walls.
The child shifted slightly in her arms.
The lizard studied the structure carefully.
Structured.
Organized.
Human territory.
The fox adjusted her robe and approached at a normal pace.
No need to attract attention.
Just another traveler passing through.
Just another woman carrying a child.
The city gates loomed closer.
Lantern light flickered across stone and steel, casting long shadows across the road.
For tonight—
This would be their refuge.