Chapter 8

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Unbeknownst to them, two spirits who had come to find them quickly tidied up the villa—more precisely, the Grey Wolf cleaned the villa while also taking care of a fox and a cub. Crawling from the long-neglected floor was a thick layer of dust. Qing Yao’s few garments had turned into mere rags. Unaware, she used her fingers to scrape at the dust clumps on the floor and was about to shove one into her mouth.

The Grey Wolf, swift and sharp-eyed, quickly pulled her back, then fixed a piercing gaze on the fox.

The fox shook off the dust from his fur and instantly returned to his sleek, tidy form.

Qing Yao looked up for a moment, then twisted her head and body, shaking herself vigorously.

The fox excitedly hopped around her in circles. “Such a clever cub! That’s right, you have to keep your balance with your tail.”

The Grey Wolf slapped him on the head. “This is a human child, not a furry animal.”

The fox shrugged carelessly, chin raised. “But human cubs also walk on all fours at first—it’s the same. It never hurts to learn more skills.”

With that, he encouraged Qing Yao to continue crawling forward.

The two began sliding playfully around the spacious hall, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

If not for the worry that their loud laughter might attract humans, perhaps even the upstairs floorboards would have been scrubbed spotless.

The bag and clothes dirtied yesterday were still drying, and with no spare clothes, the Grey Wolf had no choice but to bundle Qing Yao into a sleeping bag, then pull the fox over to blow warm air on the damp clothes.

Qing Yao, trapped in the sleeping bag, wasn’t angry. She struggled to lift her limbs, wriggling closer to the fox, curiously looking up at the fluttering clothes in front of him.

“Ah.”

The cub emitted a sound.

The fox gently placed his paw over her hand to soothe her. “These are your clothes, still not dry. Wait a little longer.”

Qing Yao looked at him, seemed to understand, and quietly lay down to the side, soon curling back inside the sleeping bag, closing her eyes against the fox’s soft fur.

Taking advantage of this moment, the Grey Wolf returned to the mountain, bringing back her few belongings.

The route down the mountain had changed somewhat, so she avoided encountering the group of police who had already arrived at the mountain.

Although the baby was cared for by spirits, in the police’s minds, it was no different from being abandoned alone in the wilderness.

Compared to other mountains, Little Maple Mountain was small and compact, but a full circuit still took half a morning. The dense forest was filled with trees and insects, steep and difficult to navigate. For this reason, the police even deployed drones to patrol continuously from above.

The drones made a noisy hum. The Grey Wolf glanced at the sky then swiftly darted down the mountain to the house.

The fox had already dried the clothes and was now struggling to put them on the child. The soaked diaper was removed, but he hadn’t yet learned how to put on a fresh one, fumbling and gesturing endlessly without success.

As soon as the Grey Wolf set down her things, she felt her temper rising again.

“What are you doing? Blowing like that will make her sick!” she said, quickly wrapping up the cub.

Having witnessed the child fall ill once, the Grey Wolf understood instinctively that human infants were far more fragile than animal cubs. She grasped the importance of keeping the child from the wind, primarily feeling pity for humans who grew no fur and had to layer up in the cold winter.

The fox still held the diaper. “I haven’t put it on yet.”

The Grey Wolf snatched it from him, standing on either side to shield the child from the wind. “Watch my movements and learn—next time, be faster.”

Having become a spirit, the fox learned quickly from a glance. “So that’s how it’s done.”

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After changing the clothes, the awakened cub closed her eyes and fell asleep again.

The fox lay there for a moment before remembering the chicken feet he had hidden away. “Ah, ah! Did you bring my chicken feet back with you?!”

The Grey Wolf didn’t even look at him. “No.”

The fox snorted and jumped up. “I’ll go find them myself!”

He had been savoring those chicken feet, and half of them were still left.

The fox darted through the window to the side door, leapt over the wall, and entered the forest.

In the mountains, the police, fully armed and working alongside the fire brigade’s rescue team, were conducting a search. Animals scattered in fright, snakes and insects slithered and crawled.

The fox sped through the underbrush, his form nearly a shadow. Large animals were scarce on Little Maple Mountain. Though swift, his bright red fur made him highly conspicuous. He failed to notice a drone overhead capturing his shadow through the sparse foliage.

Other drones, receiving the signal, immediately converged on his location. Nearby police abandoned other search routes to gather in the direction the fox was heading.

Halfway through, the fox sensed something was wrong. The forest was unusually noisy; insects that usually stayed hidden had all emerged, and there was a strong unfamiliar human scent.

Humans typically only walked established mountain paths and rarely ventured into the woods—it was too dangerous for them.

Something unusual was happening. The fox wanted to turn back immediately but couldn’t bear to leave behind the half-bag of chicken feet.

Those were enough to last until tomorrow—a precious food.

After some deliberation, he decided to act quickly: grab the food and run.

Unbeknownst to him, a few other search police had already found the small den where the Grey Wolf had initially sheltered. This spot, hidden under leaves, contained half-buried diapers, opened medicine packets, and dried milk stains on the ground.

“Found it. It’s here. Lots of signs of habitation—deep scratches on the ground and nearby tree trunks.”

“Looks like they’ve left already. No other belongings here.”

“Could they have left Little Maple Mountain?”

“Even if they left, it can’t be far. Keep searching.”

“Captain, drone reports indicate a red fox running wildly through the forest, heading this way.”

“They’re coming!”

The police who knew about spirits were both excited and tense. The firefighters assisting them were unaware of the situation; they only assumed an animal had taken a baby into the mountain and were prepared to kill the animal if necessary.

The fox, though usually sharp, now sensed danger. Many humans were near his home. When he stopped, drones above began to descend, several circling with a loud buzzing. The rotor wind rustled the treetops.

Looking up, the fox didn’t hesitate and bolted.

These humans wanted to capture him.

He ran at twice his previous speed, his red form a blur that vanished in an instant, snapping branches and leaves as he passed.

Fear gripped him. He recalled being hunted by a seasoned hunter in his youth. Many adult foxes in his family had died at the hands of hunters. Young and weaker in speed and stamina, the hunter closed in, arrows whizzing past his ears.

That was the closest he had come to death. He had thought he would be caught and skinned like the others, but in desperation, he plunged off a cliff.

He tumbled through the air, wind roaring in his ears, mind blank, unable to think.

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Yet, he was extraordinarily lucky—he fell into a pond at the cliff’s base filled with a milky white liquid. He gulped it down, feeling his body slowly transform.

Thus began his path of cultivation.

The fox once felt fortunate to have escaped the hunter’s pursuit and gained the chance to become a spirit—a luck few in his clan ever had.

But now, he again sensed imminent danger.

Humans no longer had bows and arrows but had weapons akin to divine artifacts. Drones hovered ceaselessly overhead; no matter how fast he ran, he could not shake them.

Not daring to return to the villa, he fled down the mountain, racing toward the city outskirts. The city was crowded; he sought less populated places.

But in this age, few places were truly empty. Busy highways at the city’s edge teemed with vehicles. Even near farmland there were concrete roads, and every village had cars. He had nowhere to hide.

The fox did not want to use magic against humans—he had never killed one.

As the police closed in, quickly coordinating with traffic officers to block him off and preparing tranquilizers, the fox finally saw the intercepting officers.

At the crucial moment, his wits kicked in. He darted into a patch of grass, emerging as an ordinary human spectator.

His pace was unhurried, glancing around before quickly leaving.

Suddenly losing their target, the police realized normal methods were ineffective against spirits. They summoned Daoist Wen Yuan, who was resting nearby.

This time, he did not perform divinations but reviewed nearby surveillance footage. Soon, he pointed to a person. “This is the fox spirit. Look at that hair—such vibrant color. His transformation technique is impressive. Wonder how many years of cultivation he has.”

With a new suspect, the police quickly launched their search.

Unfamiliar with human technology, the fox never imagined he would be discovered so soon, despite blending perfectly into the crowd.

As he prepared to flee again, a traffic officer blocked his path, raising an electric baton. “Don’t run. There are cameras everywhere—you can’t escape.”

Stunned, the fox realized why weak humans ruled the world: they could create tools as powerful as magical artifacts with their bodies.

“Why are you trying to catch me?” he asked, feeling deeply wronged. He didn’t understand what crime he had committed to be hunted so relentlessly—just because he was a fox? Were the Grey Wolf and the cub safe, or had the humans captured them too?

The traffic officer only followed orders, unaware why the fox was being pursued.

“Come with us, and you’ll find out.”

The fox did not want to go, and this time, no Daoist spirit came to save him.

If humans could not accept him, then he no longer needed to tolerate them.

His eyes darkened with ferocity; his ears flickered faintly above his head, as if in the next moment he might leap forward to tear the humans apart.

At this critical moment, a familiar voice crackled through the officer’s radio.

“Dear little red fox, please don’t be agitated!”