The sun was still low, painting the sky a soft pink as Li Xiyan slipped quietly through the morning mist. The outer sect was waking—doors creaked open, disciples stretched, and the scent of boiling herbs drifted from the medicinal hut.
But Xiyan's steps were purposeful, heading toward the garden behind the herb shed, where the wild spirit beasts roamed free. This was her secret refuge, the one place where she felt less invisible.
She had remembered: today, exactly ten years ago, a small injured fox spirit had limped into this patch of bamboo and curled beneath the twisted branches of an ancient pine tree. No one had cared. No one had bothered to help.
But she would.
The garden was silent except for the soft rustle of leaves and a faint whimper.
Xiyan's breath hitched. She knelt beside a small figure tangled in brambles—a silver fox with eyes as luminous as moonlight, its leg twisted unnaturally.
"It's okay," Xiyan whispered, her hands trembling as she brushed away thorns. "I'm here now."
Carefully, she examined the injury. The fox's leg was fractured, and the spirit energy around it was jagged and unstable, flickering in uneven pulses.
Xiyan's fingers glowed faintly with her nascent spiritual qi. She touched the wound, feeling the fox's pain spike sharply, but she held steady.
"I'll fix this. You don't have to suffer."
The healing process was slow—spirit energy was fragile in her body, and each pulse drained her a little. But the fox's whimpers softened to gentle breaths.
As the sun climbed, the outer sect disciples bustled around, their conversations loud and careless. None noticed Xiyan kneeling in the grass, invisible as ever.
She smiled softly. In her past life, this was a moment she'd missed—too caught up in her duties, too small to matter. But this time was different.
She whispered, "I'm going to protect you. And maybe, just maybe, we'll protect each other."
From the shadow of the pine, a figure watched quietly.
A tall young man in sleek black robes, his expression unreadable beneath sharp brows.
He was the sect's famed sword prodigy, known for his icy demeanor and ruthless skill. Few dared approach him. Fewer still saw beyond the cold mask.
But now, his sharp gaze lingered on the girl who tended the fox.
No one called her name. No one noticed her.
Except him.
And something in his heart shifted, a small spark amid the frost.