Chapter One

A cold wind blew through the deep night, and the entire city of Xinghuan had already sunk into slumber.

Yet by the lakeside villas, two animals stood by the roadside—creatures that by all rights should not have appeared here—frozen in place, lost in thought for a full five minutes.

Two pairs of eyes, glowing in the night, were fixed intently on the infant swaddled before them. The baby was plump and fair, exceedingly adorable, and at that moment she slept soundly, her lips mumbling in her dreams.

After a long silence, the flame-red fox let out a sigh. "She smells so good."

The gray wolf beside her stepped forward, lowered his head to sniff the baby, and a thread of drool at the corner of his mouth betrayed his thoughts. Clearly, he too found the scent irresistible.

"She’s worth more than many chickens," the fox murmured, inching closer and nudging aside the blanket to sniff at the baby's chubby little foot. The fox opened his mouth, measuring it against the foot—it would fit in one bite.

"The old priest left her to us. We can do whatever we want. Let’s just eat her. That old priest might not make it out alive, and if he dies, no one will ever find us."

The fox’s eyes gleamed with hunger as he began to coax the gray wolf at his side.

The gray wolf glared at him, pulled the blanket back over the baby with his paw, and blocked the fox with his body.

"We promised the old priest we’d take care of this infant. If we break our word, we might be struck by lightning. Don’t forget, humans are cunning, and that priest is powerful—he might have cast a spell on us without our knowing."

The red fox paced restlessly. "Impossible. I watched him the whole time. That’s just your imagination. Coward. You’re just afraid of humans. Pathetic."

But no matter how the fox insulted him, the gray wolf remained silent and unmoving, refusing to yield. Fox and wolf stood at an impasse, while behind them, the baby slept on, unaware of the drama unfolding around her.

All of this had begun half an hour earlier.

The fox and the wolf were both spirits who had recently descended from the mountains. They wandered the city, ill at ease in this transformed world of humans, finding it hard to hunt for food and constantly wary of being captured.

They only moved about at night, and had not known each other until recently, when the fox had stolen a meal the wolf had just hunted. The wolf chased him all the way to the lakeside villas.

Before they could fight, they witnessed a familiar old priest—battered and bloodied—staggering from one of the villas, carrying a baby girl of three or four months.

Upon seeing them, the priest’s eyes lit up. He placed the infant before them and asked them to take care of her.

This priest was, in fact, their benefactor. Not long after they had come down from the mountains, ignorant of the world and causing endless trouble, it was the priest who had resolved their mishaps and even rescued them from zoos and traffickers.

Owing him so much, neither spirit could refuse his request.

But the moment he left, they sobered. This was a human child—how could monsters like them care for a human? Besides, they had no idea how to care for her; it would be simpler just to eat her. They’d only promised to look after her, not for how long. The priest had been gone long enough—it was time.

The fox’s mind whirled with schemes.

The gray wolf thudded his paw against the ground. "We’re only caring for her temporarily. The priest will come back."

Both spirits looked toward the direction the priest had gone—a grand, standalone villa, the sort owned only by the very wealthy. Even at this late hour, the villa was ablaze with lights, as though a party were underway, yet there was no sound within.

"What’s happening in there?" The fox’s curiosity was piqued.

The gray wolf replied coolly, "I don’t know, but I advise you not to go near. There’s a dangerous aura."

The wolf had become a spirit a hundred years before the fox and was stronger. Now, every instinct told her to keep as far from that villa as possible.

As the two spirits watched, the villa’s lights suddenly went dark, and a deafening explosion rocked the building. Several windows shattered, and wisps of energy leaked out, swirling into visible black mist above the roof—a writhing mass of deathly, vengeful, and sinister energy that formed a hideous, terrifying ghostly face.

From afar, the ghostly visage seemed to notice them. The moment their eyes met, the fox involuntarily took a step back, his fur bristling. "What is that?"

The gray wolf did not answer; she had never seen such a thing before.

The black mist thickened, about to burst from the villa, when suddenly a beam of golden light shot up, piercing the darkness. The ghostly face shrieked and was instantly forced back inside.

"That must be the priest—he’s really powerful," the fox said awkwardly, his appetite for the baby now completely extinguished. He had always sensed the priest’s strength and felt no urge to defy him, but now he was truly glad he had not.

"With such power, he should be able to survive," the fox muttered, lying down dispiritedly. Another night wasted—he would go hungry again tomorrow. He hadn’t eaten his fill in days; every time he found food, he was discovered and driven off. Even today, the fat rat the wolf had caught was snatched away before it could be eaten.

He could feel his bones pressing into the earth as he lay down.

But he could not return to the mountain.

The gray wolf, still spirited, kept her gaze on the villa, occasionally glancing at the baby, who slept deeply, undisturbed even by the earlier explosions.

Inside, the chaos only grew, flashes of golden light appearing now and then in the ongoing battle. How long the struggle would last, they could not tell.

Suddenly, another violent explosion rocked the house, nearly blowing off the roof.

The baby, who had been sleeping soundly, was jolted awake and began to wail, her cries startling both animals. The gray wolf hurried over to her, seeing the infant’s tiny fists clenched, face flushed with tears.

"What’s wrong? Why is she suddenly crying?" The fox peered over, baffled. He’d never raised even a fox cub, let alone a human child; he had no idea how to care for a baby.

The gray wolf was at a loss as well, but she recalled tending to cubs in her pack long ago. She used her paw to gently pull aside the baby’s blanket. The child was dressed neatly in soft clothes, with an open-crotch pant over a diaper.

The wolf tilted her head, removed the diaper, and found it clean and dry.

"Is she hungry?"

The fox looked away at once. He himself hadn’t eaten—where could he find food for a human infant?

The gray wolf was uneasy as well. Such a young child needed her mother’s milk—where was her mother?

But before they could ponder further, the chaotic energy inside the villa surged to a terrifying peak, the explosion of force withering all the lush vegetation around, stripping the land of life.

The baby, who had been crying, fell abruptly silent, as if frightened.

The gray wolf wasted no time. She gripped the baby’s blanket in her mouth and, with the child bundled up, fled as fast as she could.

Damn it, damn it, what on earth was in there? That aura was terrifying! Was the human world always this dangerous?

Both spirits thought the same thing: they wished they could flee back to the mountains and never descend again.

As deathly energy spread, a faint but steady breath of vitality slowly seeped out from the villa, mingling with the darkness, fighting against it, gradually suppressing and finally dispelling it altogether.

The dying of the vegetation ceased, and both energies withdrew into the house.

The gray wolf, curious yet hesitant, halted and gazed at the villa from afar.

All was quiet.

They waited a long, long time—long enough for the fox to grow restless, his tail twitching with impatience.

"Is it over? Who won? Was it the priest? Why hasn’t he come out?"

No one emerged—neither the priest nor anything else. It was as if the villa had never been inhabited.

The moon drifted slowly across the sky. Soon, dawn would break.

They needed to leave, and they had to deal with the human child—neither wanted to take her with them.

"You go check," said the fox.

The gray wolf gave him an impassive look.

The fox faltered, "Then you take care of the baby. I’ll go hunt, or I’ll starve again tomorrow."

But before he could turn, the gray wolf pinned his tail with her paw, making the fox bristle in alarm.

"We go together," she said calmly, picking up the baby and heading toward the villa.

The fox moved slowly, almost dragging his feet, but the wolf did not rush him, matching his pace.

Before they reached the house, however, they heard the roar of an approaching vehicle. A car sped toward them at racing speed, and the wolf, quick as lightning, darted into a patch of withered grass with the baby. The fox had already vanished.

The car screeched to a halt before the villa, and a middle-aged man in priest’s robes leaped out, his face filled with anxiety as he shouted for his senior.

"Senior Lingyun!"

Several others followed, some in priestly robes, others in monk’s garb, all with grave expressions.

"This is the place? The energy is so strong—it’s draining the life force. I’ve never heard of such an evil thing!"

"We’re not enough. Get more people, quickly. Who knows how Master Lingyun is? I can’t even sense his presence."

"No, it’s the opposite—I feel as if he’s everywhere."

The others were startled, then rushed into the house.

Soon, the fox and the wolf heard sobbing from inside—it was the voice of the priest who had arrived first.

"Senior, it’s all our fault for arriving too late. You sacrificed yourself to suppress this evil, oh…!"