Chapter Twenty: Ying Ning

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A scholar wanders the world with his sword, and at night, a seductive fox spirit comes knocking at his door…

Oh, but it seems the little white fox did not bother to knock—it slipped in uninvited through the window.

At this, Chen Jianchen gathered his thoughts and began his questioning, raising each of his concerns in turn. Soon, he received answers that satisfied him—

The white fox was originally a young fox living in the back mountains of Maple Mountain. Three years ago, during one of its wanderings, it stumbled upon a cave—“the Sleeping Pine Grotto.”

This place had once served as the secluded cultivation chamber of a human cultivator. Beneath the cave, a spiritual vein ran through the earth, rich in spiritual energy, making it an ideal location for cultivation.

That cultivator hailed from Kunlun, known by the Daoist name “Autumn’s First Leaf.” He had reached the Golden Core stage, but failed in his attempt to break through to the Nascent Soul. When his allotted lifespan ended, he passed away in meditation. Yet, he left behind his lineage, imbuing a wisp of his spirit into a single pill—a spark to pass on his legacy.

The little white fox, wandering into the cave, inadvertently consumed the pill. Enlightened by the residual intent, its intelligence awakened, shedding its former confusion and ignorance.

—To have one’s legacy inherited by a fox—Autumn’s First Leaf could hardly have anticipated such an outcome.

Upon gaining sentience, the white fox also discovered a scroll left behind by the cultivator, the “Kunlun Jade Purity Incantation.” In order to practice this Daoist art, it began to descend the mountain frequently, secretly learning the human tongue and script. Each night, it devoted itself to meditation, absorbing the essence of the moon, diligently honing its skills.

Diligence bears fruit—even for a fox. In just two short years, the white fox mastered reading and writing, and broke through to the “Yin Spirit” realm.

It could be said that, barring mishap, the white fox would have continued its solitary cultivation in the Sleeping Pine Grotto… Yet fate is ever capricious. Half a year ago, a wolf demon appeared from nowhere, prowling the back mountains of Maple Mountain.

The wolf demon discovered both the white fox and the Sleeping Pine Grotto, and thus began a fierce contest for the cave. Their cultivation levels were similar, but in truth, at the Yin Spirit stage, their spiritual power offered little advantage in battle—the outcome depended more on raw physical prowess.

Unquestionably, the wolf demon held the upper hand, overpowering the white fox in each clash. Thus, it came to pass that the little white fox, wounded, was forced to flee for its life—fortunate indeed to have encountered Chen Jianchen’s timely assistance!

Hearing all this, Chen Jianchen finally understood the sequence of events.

As for why the white fox had come to seek him out in the dead of night—it was because, three hours prior, another brutal battle had erupted between it and the wolf demon. Gravely injured, the fox was forced to flee once more, the Sleeping Pine Grotto now firmly in the wolf demon’s claws. Worse yet, the foe was bent on utter annihilation.

With nowhere else to turn, the white fox could only come to Chen Jianchen, seeking temporary refuge, hoping to recover before planning its next move. As for why it did not flee farther afield, there were two reasons: first, it could not bear to abandon the Sleeping Pine Grotto—though the world is vast, places blessed with spiritual veins are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns, and those that exist are almost always claimed; second, the scroll of “Kunlun Jade Purity Incantation” had also been seized by the wolf demon. For the white fox, this Daoist scripture was of vital importance—no matter what, it would strive to reclaim it…

So, it had come as a refugee from calamity. It seems even being a demon is not easy—under the boundless sky, conflict is everywhere.

Chen Jianchen did not hesitate long before agreeing to take in the white fox. The fox was overjoyed, bowing and kowtowing in gratitude.

With the truth revealed, the atmosphere grew warmer, and the man and the fox found, to their surprise, much in common—at one point, Chen Jianchen asked about the fruit the white fox had brought as a gift.

The little white fox replied, “It is called the ‘Great Luo Fruit,’ born in remote mountains and vast marshes, exceedingly rare. It blooms once in ten years, bears fruit once in ten years, and each tree produces only two fruits at a time, often guarded by fierce beasts—extraordinarily difficult to obtain. The fruit has wondrous effects: for humans, it can cleanse the body of impurities and fundamentally enhance one’s constitution…”

It did not elaborate on how it was harvested, but the mere act surely involved great peril. The white fox braved such dangers to bring this fruit in gratitude—this alone put many worldly men to shame.

In the past, Chen Jianchen had read widely, with a particular fondness for classical tales of the strange. He had always harbored a certain envy for the impoverished scholars favored by charming fox spirits—the fragrance of books lingering through the night… And now, had he not become such a figure himself?

Taking in the little white fox posed no real problem; his greatest worry was whether the wolf demon might pursue its prey all the way to his door.

But on reflection, Chen Jianchen realized his fears were unfounded: though the wolf demon was intelligent, it had only reached the Yin Spirit stage, and its greatest strength lay in its formidable body. However fierce it might be, it was still only a wolf—how could it dare rampage through a human village? Besides, Jingyang Village boasted several skilled hunters—Chen Jianchen’s neighbor, Old Zhang the Third, was renowned for his prowess, having once slain a tiger.

Given such circumstances, if the wolf demon dared to come, it would only be courting death.

With that settled, Chen Jianchen relaxed.

As for the fox’s daily arrangements, it could hide in a corner of the study, where no outsider would ever discover it—this measure was crucial, for if word got out, the consequences would be catastrophic. Not everyone was as well-read and open-minded as Chen Jianchen.

In truth, he hardly needed to say this—the white fox was clever enough to understand.

Knock, knock!

A gentle voice called from outside, “Brother Liuxian, are you still awake?” It was A’bao, who, rising to relieve herself, had noticed the study’s lamp still burning and come to ask.

It was already midnight; usually, Chen Jianchen would never be up so late.

He replied, “I’ll be sleeping soon.”

Hearing his calm response, A’bao was reassured. She thought to herself that Brother Liuxian was truly diligent in his studies. Tomorrow, she must buy more bones and medicinal herbs to make a nourishing soup for him.

With that, she tiptoed quietly back to her room.

Chen Jianchen, still wide awake, continued his conversation with the little white fox, learning much more about the workings of Daoist arts—questions he’d had no chance to ask Master Qingyun. Though the white fox’s knowledge could not compare to Qingyun’s, it was more than adequate to serve as his teacher.

Thus, Chen Jianchen learned much about the ways of demons as well. After awakening, their development generally took two paths: one, to master Daoist arts, cultivating through meditation and absorbing the essences of heaven, earth, and the moon and sun—this orthodox method mirrored human cultivators, but was exceedingly rare; the other path was to pursue heterodox practices, increasing power by absorbing the vital essence of humans.

There were many ways to do this: eating flesh and organs was considered base; transforming into a beautiful woman and seducing men was more common, a middle path; while more advanced methods involved sophisticated magical techniques for plunder…

As their conversation drew to a close, Chen Jianchen noticed the white fox looked weary—no doubt its wounds prevented it from writing for long. He suggested it take some rest.

The white fox suddenly picked up the brush and wrote on a blank sheet: “Master, since awakening, I have yet to receive a name. Would you grant me one?”

Chen Jianchen gave a thoughtful “Hm,” pondered for a moment, and then said, “Let’s call you ‘Yingning.’” He took up the brush and wrote the name on the page.

The white fox saw it and was delighted, hopping with joy and bowing deeply in gratitude.