Chapter 37: Bringing Home a Fox

After descending the mountain a ways, suddenly a cry rang out:

“Ah~”

Lin Jue was startled and instinctively gripped his firewood axe.

But a cloud leopard leapt from the woods and came before him.

“!”

Lin Jue grew wary, yet puzzled.

This cloud leopard seemed familiar.

He glanced down at the small thing in his hand.

It didn’t look like the same species.

As he pondered, two figures emerged from behind the cloud leopard.

One was the senior disciple of the temple; the other was the fourth senior disciple, the one skilled in summoning and taming beasts.

“Little brother, why climb so high just to chop firewood? And why are you still up here so late?”

“Senior brothers.”

Lin Jue sheathed his axe and exhaled in relief.

“This season has few dry branches; the firewood below the mountain has been mostly cut, so I had to come up higher. And because I saw the view from the peak was so beautiful, I got distracted and climbed up to sit awhile.” Lin Jue paused, lifting the pup in his hand, “But then I happened upon a little orphaned pup up here—no idea how it got here. I waited at a distance for a long time, but its parents never came. So I thought I’d bring it back to the temple; otherwise, even if it wasn’t eaten by other beasts, it’d surely freeze to death on the peak.”

“A pup?”

The fourth senior disciple glanced at his hand and immediately declared: “It’s a fox pup.”

“A fox pup?”

“There are no foxes on this mountain—only deep inside. No idea how it ended up here.” The fourth senior disciple, who practiced summoning and taming beasts, clearly knew these creatures well and was deeply compassionate: “To meet it is fate. Bring it back to the temple. I’ll ask my mountain friends tonight if anyone’s lost a pup. If so, I’ll return it tomorrow morning.”

“That’s perfect.”

Lin Jue wasn’t surprised—

since practicing Wood Shun needed harmony with plants, it made sense that practicing Beast and Bird Summoning required kindness toward flying and running creatures. Besides, legends always said beasts had spirits and could sense human goodwill or malice—somehow more believable than plants.

“Let’s go. Descend.”

“Alright.”

Lin Jue lifted the fox pup, studying it closely—so this was what foxes looked like as babies.

He followed them down the mountain.

“We thought you were lost—or bewitched by a spirit.”

“Not lost, but I did worry this pup might be some spirit’s trick to deceive me.”

“If any spirit on this mountain uses such tricks, we’ll deal with it!”

“What if you two aren’t real either?”

“Hah…”

The little creature sat quietly in Lin Jue’s hands.

The cloud leopard swished its tail, walking beside them—anyone below would’ve thought them sages or mystics.

But as they walked, the fourth senior disciple’s cloud leopard suddenly stopped, turning its head toward the distance.

“Ah~”

A cry.

The fourth senior disciple halted, following its gaze.

“Cloud Brother, what is it?”

“Ah~”

Man and leopard were answering each other.

Lin Jue watched curiously from the side.

This large, dappled cat looked imposing, yet its cry was so peculiar.

“What’s wrong, Senior Brother?”

“Just wild beasts.”

The fourth senior disciple smiled faintly and continued downward.

With the firewood, they soon returned to the temple.

A few cats still lay on the stone steps by the gate, basking lazily in the sunset’s glow; a slender black dog sat upright, also dignified. The cloud leopard passed among them without fear—they were clearly familiar. But when Lin Jue arrived carrying the fox pup, they all stared with curiosity.

Most senior disciples waited in the outer courtyard. The old Daoist had placed a meditation cushion under a pine tree and sat cross-legged. For some reason, though he’d only returned to the temple a day ago, he already looked much older.

When the three returned, he opened his eyes:

“Why did you take so long?”

“Master, the mountain view was so beautiful, and I happened upon a fox pup. So I sat longer, admiring the scenery.”

“You’ve got refined tastes.”

“I’ve never seen such a beautiful mountain before.”

“There’s plenty of time ahead—just don’t grow tired of it. But when did we ever have foxes on Fuxiu Peak?”

The old Daoist lifted his eyelids, gazing at what was in his hand.

There, a dull gray pup curled its tail to shield its vital parts, held in Lin Jue’s grasp, wearing a look of innocent obedience—and staring back at him, utterly pitiful.

“I don’t know. Fourth Senior Brother says he’ll ask mountain friends tonight. If we find the owners, we’ll return it tomorrow.”

“No matter. To meet it is fate. The temple won’t miss one more mouth to feed. Even if we never find its home, we can raise it and release it back into the mountains later.” The old Daoist glanced once, then looked away, rising to carry his cushion toward the inner courtyard: “Time for dinner.”

The fox pup was too small. Lin Jue feared the temple cats might mistake it for a rat and eat it, so he carried it into the dining hall.

“Don’t wander off. Wait till I finish eating.”

Strangely, upon hearing him, the pup sat perfectly still—whether obedient or frightened, it kept its wide, dark eyes fixed on him, tracking his every move, silent and motionless.

A tiny bundle, easily crushed underfoot.

“This little thing’s pitiful. Go find a tile for it as a bowl, and give it something to eat,” the old Daoist said slowly.

“What does it eat?”

“Foxes eat anything.”

“Alright.”

Lin Jue went to the eaves of the outer courtyard, found a clean tile among a pile—leftover from old construction—and returned to find the meal already laid out.

Exactly like last night: same dishes, same sticky, gluey rice.

Nutritious, but tasteless.

No wonder mountain life was austere.

“It’s cool outside. I’ll eat out there. You all do as you please.” The old Daoist ladled his rice, picked up a few vegetables, and carried his bowl slowly outside, like an ordinary village elder.

“I’ll eat outside too!”

“Me too!”

Two senior disciples rose with their bowls.

Lin Jue thought a moment, then scooped rice, added a bit of vegetables and egg, and carried his bowl and tile outside.

The fox pup followed him, stumbling clumsily.

But crossing the threshold was a problem.

The threshold was higher than the pup.

When Lin Jue reached the dining hall’s entrance, the sun had just set, the sky ablaze with clouds. The courtyard had grown dim. The two senior disciples sat under the pine, chatting with bowls in hand. The old Daoist sat alone, gazing at the distant, ink-wash mountains where the sun had vanished, chewing slowly, lost in thought.

He turned back—there, the fox pup was struggling to climb the threshold, then tumbled hard off the other side.

It flipped over instantly, as if it felt no pain, and scrambled toward him.

“You sat with me all afternoon—you’ve already recognized me.”

Lin Jue smiled, sat on a step, placed the tile beside him, and carefully placed a bit of rice, greens, and egg on it.

“See what you like.”

The pup was so small, it looked like it had never eaten solid food. It stared at the meal with round, bewildered eyes, then turned to Lin Jue, silent and helpless.

Lin Jue didn’t look at it. He gazed at the breathtaking sunset mountains, lowered his head, and ate slowly, bowl in one hand, chopsticks in the other.

Swallows darted overhead, chasing each other; bats flapped their wings with dull thuds. A few cats played among themselves; others perched high, eyes fixed on birds in the sky. The black dog followed the two senior disciples, head raised, begging for food.

The evening here was just like summer in Shu Village, just like Lin Jue’s childhood memories.

A quiet, pure calmness.

If only the food tasted better.

Lin Jue glanced at the fox—and froze.

The pup beside him was no longer watching him. Instead, it extended a paw, flipped it over, and scraped at the tile’s edge—as if imitating him, trying to lift the tile.

When it realized it couldn’t lift it, it froze, stunned. After a moment, it turned back to Lin Jue, its eyes even more confused.

“?”

Lin Jue suddenly realized.

This little thing was different.

At least, unusually intelligent.

And now, the pup kept watching him, shifting its gaze from his left hand holding the bowl to his right hand holding the chopsticks. It lowered its head, staring at its other paw.

Seeing nothing there, it searched around the tile, then looked up at Lin Jue again—its eyes now held not just confusion, but helplessness, unsure what to do next.

“?”

Lin Jue felt both surprised and puzzled.

After spending considerable time teaching it how to lower its head to eat, he still couldn’t tell what it liked.

This little creature seemed to understand nothing about the food; whatever Lin Jue gave it, it ate—taking everything in order, with no preference of its own.

Yet dealing with it was amusing; when used as a dining companion, it would unknowingly finish a whole bowl of rice.

After the meal, Lin Jue had intended to help Sixth Senior Brother wash the dishes—being diligent was never a bad thing—but the younger sister beat him to it, which was fine; it saved him effort, so he went to the courtyard to sit in meditation and practice the Nourishing Qi Method.

At dusk, it was time for cultivation.

Compared to various spirit arts, the Nourishing Qi Method was primitive and simple, yet in its inhalation and exhalation, it still drew upon the Five Qi of Heaven and Earth; closing the eyes and sensing, it still perceived the spiritual resonance of the world—the essence absorbed and understood was no different in kind, merely less pure and efficient than the various spirit arts.

The little fox still followed him everywhere, lying beside him, watching him intently while timidly glancing at the cats and dogs nearby.

…

The next morning, in the Moving Mountain Hall.

It was morning recitation time.

“Without Yang, nothing can exist; without Yin, nothing can transform. Yin and Yang interact, and all things flourish endlessly…”

Lin Jue sat again on his cushion, reciting the Yin-Yang Scripture, which expounded the Dao of Yin and Yang. The younger sister wore the same clothes she had arrived in—fine fabric, quite attractive—and sat on her cushion beside him, listening attentively, though her position was slightly closer than it had been the previous morning.

Cats still strolled leisurely atop the altar, and when the mood struck them, they could slap the Ancestral Master.

The biggest difference from yesterday was that outside the Moving Mountain Hall, a little fox cub sat obediently against a threshold taller than itself, waiting for those inside to emerge, occasionally nodding off.

“This is the Way of Yin and Yang.”

Lin Jue finally finished reciting and closed the book.

The younger sister stared at him blankly, half-understanding.

“Thank you, Senior Brother…”

“It’s only natural.”

At that moment, Fourth Senior Brother happened to walk past the door.

“Younger brothers, you’re doing morning recitation here?”

“Fourth Senior Brother.”

“Good morning, Fourth Senior Brother!”

“How’s it going? Can you recognize all the characters?”

“I can recognize them all.”

The younger sister lowered her head silently.

“Good. Read the book a hundred times, and its meaning will reveal itself. The Dao cannot be rushed—indeed, haste is the greatest taboo. Recite the Yin-Yang Scripture daily, and you will eventually gain insight. Even if you gain none now, memorize it; someday, one of its lines will suddenly become your own true realization. That is the nature of the sages’ words.”

“Thank you, Senior Brother.”

“Thank you, Senior Brother…”

“By the way, last night I asked friends nearby to search—the area around Fuxiu Peak, several li around, had no record of any newly arrived fox. This little fox came from nowhere, and judging by its demeanor, it seems unusual. Keep it for now. If you wish to learn the ‘Method of Gathering Beasts and Taming Birds,’ you can start with it. If you don’t want to keep it, that’s fine—I’ll take care of it. I get all sorts of random game from friends every day, and many come asking for meals; one more won’t matter.”

“It has a karmic bond with me—I’ll keep it,” Lin Jue said, then paused and asked, “May I ask, Fourth Senior Brother, what are the merits of the Method of Gathering Beasts and Taming Birds, and how does one cultivate it?”

“As the name implies,” Fourth Senior Brother said, standing at the door, “the Method of Gathering Beasts and Taming Birds is the way to gather and communicate with flying birds and terrestrial beasts. There are secret techniques, but the most essential thing is to make them sense your goodwill—to hold a reverent and kind heart toward them.”

“I see.”

No wonder Fourth Senior Brother cared so much for the little fox cub and called all the wild beasts his friends.

It was exactly as Lin Jue had expected.

“You should know, the Method of Gathering Beasts and Taming Birds isn’t limited to wild beasts. When mastered, it can gather and tame any creature that hasn’t reached the level of ‘Spiritual Demon’—be it strange beast or demonic beast. Even if you encounter a demon, if it knows you’ve studied this method, it will sense your level of mastery and form a certain fondness for you.”

Fourth Senior Brother went on boasting:

“Take your time deciding whether to learn it. But remember: among all arts, quality matters more than quantity. Everyone’s time and energy are limited—choose carefully, don’t be greedy.”

“I’ve learned much.”

“Since you’ve finished the scripture, let’s eat. I’m just going to ring the bell for Seventh Junior Brother.”

“Alright.”

Lin Jue stood and followed him.

The younger sister hurried to follow as well.