The Wuyou Sword arrived through the air.
The fox demons’ venomous hatred was instantly doused. The moment the three characters “Yan Linyuan” surfaced in their minds, terror crawled up their souls like maggots on bone, screaming at them to flee.
RUMBLE!
The sword shadows attacked with total indifference, raining down across a hundred li of mountains and kicking up enormous clouds of dust.
The foxes shrieked in agony, desperately igniting sheets of flame with their heart’s blood.
Fox fire spread across a hundred li in a whoosh.
Yan Su paid no heed to the sky-filling blaze, white robes fluttering as he tore a seam through the fire and shot like wind toward its very center. The Heart-Purifying Artifact Lin Zhuoyu had refined for him glowed azure, wrapping him in its light.
He Xing’s face streamed with tears as he pulled out every precious spiritual medicine on his person and stuffed them at Lin Zhuoyu. The bleeding had stopped, but the dark bloodstains covering the ground still looked gruesome.
“Eldest Senior Brother! Zhuoyu bled so much… It’s all my fault, all mine!”
Yan Su walked toward them expressionless against the firelight, dropped to one knee, and gathered Lin Zhuoyu half into his arms.
He Xing: “Eldest Senior Brother…”
“It’s fine.” With fox fire filling the sky, Yan Su’s expression couldn’t be seen—only his voice, as cold as ever, yet somehow steadying. “Go find the Profound Flying Steed. We’re going home.”
“Yes!” He Xing, as if he’d found his anchor, had never been so obedient. He hastily dried his tears and went to search for the steed the fire had scared off.
But just as he reached the dense woods, something made him glance back.
The peach tree burned in the flames, petals whirling through the air. The man who had seemed as unbreakable as a towering mountain bowed his head, inch by inch, where no one could see him—as if crushed by a single peach blossom.
Yan Su held Lin Zhuoyu tight in his arms. Even from this distance, He Xing could see the man’s hands shaking violently.
He Xing froze for a moment, then turned and walked quickly away.
Lin Zhuoyu’s back was soaked in blood, staining that ornate robe embroidered with hidden peach blossoms scarlet. His body was icy cold. Holding him, Yan Su felt his heart wrung by some unseen force; the taste of blood even rose in his throat.
His ears couldn’t tell whether it was ringing, or the tangle of countless voices.
“Eldest Senior Brother, may you go a thousand li smoothly and return soon!”
“…You’ll be eaten in three bites by a Great Demon halfway there, and then you won’t see me even if you want to!”
“Return to Floating Jade Mountain.”
“I’m only staying one night…”
It was my fault, Yan Su thought.
If he hadn’t stubbornly insisted on making Lin Zhuoyu return to the sect overnight, he would never have placed him in danger.
Lin Zhuoyu had suffered the horrific tragedy of his family slaughtered by fox demons as a child. Wanting to investigate the truth and avenge them was only natural. Even if he meant to send him away, he should have persuaded him gently.
Lin Zhuoyu was so obedient; he surely would have taken those words to heart.
But he hadn’t.
He had been cold and obstinate, berating Lin Zhuoyu in the harshest, most indifferent terms, forcing him to give up the truth within arm’s reach and return to Floating Jade Mountain to remain a caged bird.
He had carried Lin Zhuoyu onto the Profound Flying Steed with his own hands—and delivered him straight into the Great Demon’s grasp.
Guilt and self-blame pressed down on Yan Su’s chest like a mountain, and the clamor of voices seemed to grow louder and louder, nearly swallowing him whole.
Finally—thump.
A faint heartbeat rang through his ears, scattering the Inner Demon’s whispers like a charm.
Half-asleep, Lin Zhuoyu smelled a familiar, steadying scent and unconsciously nuzzled into the embrace.
Yan Su’s breath caught; his chilled hand slowly reached toward Lin Zhuoyu’s face.
“Zhuoyu.”
Lin Zhuoyu’s voice was barely audible as he murmured, “Senior Brother…”
In that instant, Yan Su let out a heavy breath, his large palm trembling faintly as he stroked the side of that face. “Mm. I’m here. Don’t be afraid.”
Whether Lin Zhuoyu was awake or talking in his sleep, none could tell: “Senior Brother, my hand is bleeding, it hurts so much… Let’s make up, okay?”
Yan Su stiffened. A long while passed before his trembling voice emerged.
“Okay.”
Lin Zhuoyu’s head tipped against Yan Su’s chest, and he sank into deep sleep.
The fox fire died out; corpses lay everywhere.
The Profound Steed neighed; He Xing finally panted his way back, leading the carriage.
Yan Su gathered Lin Zhuoyu up in his arms, the killing intent in his eyes undispelled as he looked coldly at the two foxes that had survived in the distance.
Yuan Jiucang arrived late; upon landing and seeing the corpse-strewn ground, he silently drew a cold breath.
Yan Su ordered, “Take them back to the Demon Suppression Bureau. Guard them closely.”
Yuan Jiucang: “Yes.”
Yan Su had always been imperious and held demons in the deepest loathing; live demon captives were exceedingly rare. Normally he would personally escort demon captives back to the Bureau—this time was an exception.
But one look at the blood-soaked Lin Zhuoyu in his arms, and Yuan Jiucang understood.
The Profound Flying Steed rose from the ground, heading toward Floating Jade Mountain.
The Demon Suppression Bureau executed countless demons and suppressed countless evils each year, yet foxes skilled at hiding were hard to come by. Slaughtering dozens of Violet Foxes and capturing two alive this time shook the entire Bureau.
The two Violet Foxes were imprisoned tightly on the lowest level of the Bureau’s cages.
Two of the Bureau’s three Commanders arrived—Ling Wensong and Bo Xingshu came together to search for traces of the Great Demon, but were forced back empty-handed by the restriction in the Violet Fox’s sea of consciousness.
At first light, the Violet Fox lay bound at all four limbs, trapped in the narrow cage, at its last gasp.
Every gold brick of the prison was carved with sigils that bound demonic power, preventing the foxes from holding even half a human form and forcing them to curl in the corners as wild foxes.
After who knew how long, footsteps sounded again.
The Violet Fox wearily opened its eyes.
Probably just more humans trying to pry the fox clan’s whereabouts from them.
But this time seemed different. The footsteps were light and unhurried, strolling at leisure through this gloomy, eerie underground prison—and listening closely, one could even hear the person humming an unfamiliar tune.
The Violet Fox stared blankly.
Soon the person finally reached the depths of the prison. With a snap of fingers, the chains shattered and crashed to the ground.
“Hm? Still alive?”
The Violet Fox’s gaze traveled slowly up the trailing robe: a purple hem, a cinching waist sash adorned with a wildly out-of-place jade pendant carved with a Peach Blossom Pattern, on which the character “Zhuo” could faintly be seen.
Higher up was a soft-featured, strikingly handsome face.
The Violet Fox froze for a heartbeat, then instantly rejoiced, struggling to crawl toward him: “Young Master! Young Master, save me!”
Qingshan Qi held a small fan of gold thread inlaid with jade, its face painted with a few peach blossoms. Standing in the blood-smeared, dim prison, he had the look of a gentle, refined gentleman, yet was somehow unspeakably eerie and ghostly.
Qingshan foxes are usually born in human form, but this one’s fox ears and tail had yet to vanish. His eyes curved slightly as he spoke in a voice soft and gentle: “Don’t be afraid. Where is Shuixi?”
The Violet Fox said in grief and indignation, “Killed. Not even bones left.”
Qingshan Qi sighed. “How pitiful.”
The Violet Fox had no desire to linger one more moment in this sunless hellhole, and gazed at him eagerly: “Young Master, I didn’t tell those humans a single word about the chieftain. You’re so powerful and capable—can you get us out?”
The other gravely wounded Violet Fox cowering in the corner also lifted its head, eyes pleading.
Qingshan Qi leaned down slightly and used the small golden fan to lightly hook up the Violet Fox’s throat, tilting its head up. He said gently, “Shuixi betrayed us. To save its own skin, it gave my father’s name to the humans. Even if I got you out, the Violet Fox clan still could not escape annihilation.”
The Violet Fox froze; its ears slowly drooped.
But it quickly grasped Qingshan Qi’s position and immediately prostrated itself: “As long as you save me, Young Master, I will follow you faithfully for the rest of my life!”
“I know about Shuixi’s affair; it shouldn’t have implicated the rest of you.” Qingshan Qi said. “But the Bureau’s cages are layered with restrictions. With my abilities, I can only take one fox.”
The Violet Fox stiffened, staring blankly at its kin in the corner.
The eerie prison fell into dead silence in an instant.
The next instant, both Violet Foxes lunged simultaneously, fangs and claws bared, at each other.
Blood sprayed at once.
Qingshan Qi stood where he was, watching the caged-beast slaughter his single idle sentence had provoked, opening the peach-blossom fan with great interest, violet fox pupils glinting with a smile.
The other Violet Fox had already been gravely wounded by the Wuyou Sword; soon its neck was being torn at, and it breathed its last.
The victorious Violet Fox, drenched in blood, staggered to its knees at Qingshan Qi’s feet, looking up at him desperately: “Young Master…”
Qingshan Qi’s smile widened. As if beholding a rare and splendid sight, he laughed loudly, rapping his palm with the closed fan: “At the edge of life and death, the true nature of man and demon alike is selfishness. To survive, they’ll kill even their own kin. Good, good—very good.”
The Violet Fox froze.
The fox clan’s Qingshan Sheng had sired seventeen sons, every one talented—except this Young Master Qi, whose aptitude was so poor his fox ears and tail could not be hidden, and who was once regarded by the chieftain as a disgrace.
Legend had it that Qingshan Qi was sinister and perverse, an aberration among foxes and demons alike—for he never ate humans. He only liked toying with human hearts, watching them slaughter one another as he laughed and applauded.
No one had imagined he toyed with his own kin the same way.
The Violet Fox trembled all over, knowing today might not end well, and instinctively tried to flee.
But this was the Demon Suppression Bureau. If it could have escaped, it wouldn’t have begged Qingshan Qi for rescue in the first place.
Qingshan Qi watched it with a smile: “They say a Violet Fox’s heart can disguise itself as anything—even the Spirit Refinement Realm cannot see through it…”
The Violet Fox startled, immediately kneeling to beg: “Young Master! Spare my life! I-I… I can bring you an Exquisite Heart to help you attain human form!”
Qingshan Qi’s brow arched. “Exquisite Heart?”
“Yes!” Seeing his interest, the Violet Fox hurried on. “Lin Wuyou of Floating Jade Mountain carries a rare Exquisite Heart! Obtain his heart, and your cultivation will advance by leaps, crossing straight over the Spirit Solidification Realm! I’ll go through fire and water for you—I only beg you…”
Shk.
The Violet Fox’s eyes flew wide; it stared down in shock.
Qingshan Qi’s sharp fox claws had lightly pierced its chest, blood spattering the man’s smiling face. “What a waste.”
The Violet Fox couldn’t understand the words; it felt its life draining from its heart and clutched desperately at his wrist, mouth flooding with blood. “You…”
Qingshan Qi condensed three drops of heart’s blood into blood beads with spiritual power and fastened them at his wrist. Fox ears and tail vanished in an instant; even the violent demonic aura on his body was drawn in, thread by thread.
His sharp fingers didn’t stop; he lightly tapped the Violet Fox’s brow and flicked it casually aside.
Blood sprayed instantly. Through the hazy blood mist, the “Exquisite Heart” from the Violet Fox’s memory appeared before his eyes.
A young man in a jade-green peach-blossom robe, black hair spilling down like silk, features of inhuman, breathtaking beauty. Appearing suddenly in this ghost-haunted place, he seemed to sweep away the surrounding gloom, leaving behind only the spring of the third month.
Qingshan Qi’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the figure frozen in the blood mist, the corner of his lips curling upward.
Bearer of an Exquisite Heart, a heart pure and clear, like an immortal…
Qingshan Qi’s smile grew wider; his hand stroked the figure in the blood mist, his breathing trembling with excitement.
“Lin Wuyou… Lin Wuyou…”
To drag the lofty Immortal Lord down from his altar; to turn the benevolent immortal into a mere mortal;
to watch him fall into despair, his gentleness and kindness gone, slaughtering his own kin to survive, baring the ugly face of selfishness;
to watch the Exquisite Heart stain with filth…
That would be far more interesting than eating him.
