Chapter 550: Seven-Tailed White Fox

After seeing off several immortals who came to offer congratulations and seek friendship—half of them familiar—Lin Jue relaxed.

He then turned his gaze toward the courtyard’s edge, his eyes seeming to pierce through the walls and trees within to see the imperial guards beyond.

These past three years, thanks to them, countless curious villagers would have otherwise gathered outside the courtyard—some might have shoved at the gate, others climbed the walls; even the noise of kneeling, praying, or calling out the names of immortals would have disturbed the peace.

Immortals certainly had ways and abilities to keep such people away, but whether clever tricks or spells, none were as simple or effective as the imperial guards.

In fact, the mystery of magic might even backfire.

After all, upright immortals would not harm people lightly; these folk merely wished to pray for safety or catch a glimpse of an immortal’s true form—not acts of great evil. If immortals used magic to stop them, it only made the magic seem wondrous, confirmed the presence of real immortals, and drew even more people.

So Lin Jue said:

“Thank you all for guarding day and night. We are leaving now. Please inform the Emperor and your superiors there is no need to keep watch here anymore.”

His words drifted away on a gentle breeze.

What he did not say was that standing guard here was essentially living daily in a realm rich with spiritual aura and profound mystery, breathing in spiritual energy with every breath—even today, a few traces of immortal qi lingered; it was itself a rare and blessed posting—perhaps these guards had gradually sensed it too, for though they rotated shifts, they endured wind and rain, yet none had fallen ill since, and their bodies and minds had steadily improved.

Could there be any other reason than this courtyard housing an immortal?

Upon hearing this, the imperial guards felt a wave of relief, yet also a tinge of regret, unable to resist glancing back into the courtyard—but naturally, they saw nothing.

Another gentle breeze stirred within the courtyard; Lin Jue, his junior sister, Zi Yun, Xu Yi, Pu Mei, and even the youngest disciple, Xian Zhu, all dissolved into the wind and departed.

In the blink of an eye, the courtyard stood empty once more.

Empty and utterly clean, as if no one had ever been there.

…

Fengshan now had two immortals.

“Junior sister, you’ve always complained my thunderclouds are dark and ugly. Now that you’ve truly attained the Dao, you can command ordinary clouds too—I’ll give you one.”

Lin Jue plucked down a cloud.

This cloud, like the one the Jade Seal Daoist had once given him, was an ordinary white cloud, yet strikingly beautiful and densely condensed; when shrunk to a zhang in size, it became as soft as cotton—the kind that hangs behind mountain peaks or across the sky, making idle folk lying on the ground at noon gaze in wonder and feel joy.

“I picked this cloud myself. Before you find your five-colored auspicious cloud, ride this one—after all, I’ve already taught you the cloud-riding method.”

“This cloud’s great! Come here!”

The junior sister called out, and the white cloud flew over, gathering beneath her feet and lifting her up instantly.

“So soft…”

The junior sister knew the cloud-riding method.

Before she attained true immortality, she couldn’t stand on ordinary clouds, but Lin Jue had given her a token and granted her a fragment of his thundercloud, which she practiced with.

Now that she had attained true immortality and possessed immortal qi, drawing close to heaven and earth, she mastered ethereal things like clouds far more effortlessly.

She immediately rode the cloud up into the sky, circling several times.

One moment she soared upward on the wind, the next she leapt from high above and landed back on the cloud, thoroughly delighted.

After a long while, she finally landed.

“Enough, enough—the disciples will laugh at you,” Lin Jue chuckled. “Besides, you’ve felt this before.”

“I have, but how can a dream compare to reality?” the junior sister replied. “Besides, after being out so long, I’d almost forgotten.”

“Master! What dream?” Zi Yun asked, curious.

“You don’t need to know.”

“Oh! Then what’s it like to attain true immortality?”

“Freedom! Utter freedom! I feel my body lighter than the wind—I need do nothing, and the breeze alone can carry me anywhere!” the junior sister answered. “I no longer feel cold or heat, rain or snow can’t touch me, my mind is clear, my eyes sharp, I never tire, always brimming with energy—it’s the most comfortable, most free state!”

The disciples and nephews listened, filled with envy.

Xu Yi, Pu Mei, and Xian Zhu stared at Lin Jue—so this was the life their master had lived all these years.

“Work hard, all of you…”

Lin Jue looked at them, then met his sister’s gaze.

Now, whether Lin Jue or his sister, both would pay far greater attention to guiding their disciples—but who knew how many would attain true immortality, and how many would turn to dust before this dynasty ended.

“Brother, I’m going to find my seven-colored auspicious cloud.”

“First you say five-colored auspicious cloud, now seven-colored— Daodishiwucaihaishiqicai ?”

“Same thing. Whichever sounds better, I say it.”

“Do as you like.” Lin Jue nodded. “Let Zi Yun stay here with Xu Yi and the others to cultivate. Now that we’re entering a golden age, there are few demons or spirits left below. Most who come to your temple to pray seek fame, fortune, or power—I think you might as well close the doors.”

“I’ll leave a wooden board—if any demons or monsters cause trouble, let them write on it. Zi Yun can check it every few days.” The junior sister said. “Good practice for the Boundless Art.”

“Fine.”

No one spoke further.

Whoosh—a gentle breeze! The mountaintop stood empty.

…

Inside the pavilion, the fox curled up, stepped toward Lin Jue, bowed its head and bumped into him, then lifted its gaze to look at him:

“The fox feels strange.”

“What’s wrong?”

“While refining elixirs in the courtyard, the fox absorbed the junior sister’s immortal qi, and after diligent cultivation, it grew sleepy—and its rear end started itching.” The fox told him. “It feels like a tail is growing.”

“Then sleep. I’m about to enter seclusion to contemplate the Dao—I’ll guard you right here.”

“Alright~”

The fox nodded weakly, collapsed on the spot, and lay sideways.

Lin Jue sat beside it.

Time meant nothing before an immortal.

Just as in the dream, the fox slept for three years.

Lin Jue sat beside it, meditating for three years.

The difference was, at first, the fox was tiny, no bigger than a colored raccoon, so it wouldn’t seem like he was bullying it when they played—but after only three days, it began unconsciously loosening its transformation spell, slowly growing larger. Even though this pavilion was far taller and larger than ordinary houses, like an imperial palace, it became completely filled.

Even its tail hairs squeezed out through windows and the main entrance.

From afar, it looked as if the pavilion on the cliffside was entirely covered in white fur, overflowing.

And it kept growing.

Lin Jue had no choice but to move it outside, placing it deep in the mountains, then casting spells to build a massive stone pavilion to shelter it from wind and rain, still sitting beside it to cultivate.

After three years, the fox grew its seventh tail.

A fox with seven tails was an immortal.

That day, auspicious clouds and radiant light still appeared, celestial signs still manifested.

Immortals nearby still came to watch.

Even all the demons and mountain spirits of Fengshan seemed to sense it—some turned to look this way, others stared dumbly upward.

But Fuyao was a demon, and the nine-tailed fox was a demon; all immortals knew the current Heavenly Emperor’s tastes, so none came to offer congratulations.

Meanwhile—

In a deep mountain of Huizhou, a splendidly dressed deity sat motionless for countless years, yet today suddenly opened its eyes.

In Qingyan County of Qinzhou, a figure was dressing her hair—she too opened her eyes and turned toward this direction.

Elsewhere, too, demons sensed something.

All were demons who had attained true immortality.

…

Amidst deep mountain radiance and auspicious clouds stood a fox—its expression solemn, utterly lacking any immortal grace.

It sat in the deep mountains, as large as a small hill, first curiously tilting its head to gaze at the radiant clouds above, then turning its head back to look at its seven tails fanned out behind it like a fan, even reaching out a paw to gently tug at the newest one.

The paw hooked it, pulled it close for careful inspection—just as it seemed about to discern something, it suddenly opened its mouth and bit down.

While playing, it suddenly stood upright, bumping its head against the stone roof of the pavilion, then quickly pulled back, looking upward.

It looked nothing like a demon immortal or demon king.

But beside it, near the pavilion’s edge, sat a Daoist, seated like a rock, radiating dignity.

“Awake?”

A calm voice drifted over.

“Awake!” the fox said. “Why is it so bright?”

“Of course—it’s daytime.”

“The fox slept one day!”

“You slept a thousand days.”

“A thousand days!!”

“Why so surprised?”

“How long did you sleep in there?”

“In there? In the dream?” Lin Jue said. “About the same—slight variations.”

“Also that long?”

“What’s wrong?”

“It felt like one day!”

“You…”

Lin Jue reached out to pat it, but raised his hand and didn’t know how—so he said instead: “Shrink down.”

The fox obeyed, shrinking rapidly.

Lin Jue stroked its head:

“You’ve grown your seventh tail, but I haven’t yet fully realized my Dao—you must guard me now.”

“Understood!”

Looking at the massive stone pavilion nestled deep in the mountains, a fine spot for shade and shelter from rain, Lin Jue decided not to return to the pavilion tower; he sat cross-legged there again, closing his eyes.

The sun rose and the moon set; clouds and mist drifted softly.

The dawn glow on the east brightened and faded, the evening haze in the west rose and receded; green grass sprouted in the cracks of the stone pavilion in spring, reflected in the fox’s lustrous eyes, summer brought lush greenery to the mountains, autumn turned the hills crimson with maple leaves, and in winter

Mount Fengshan, the stone pavilion, and even the fox playing outside were all blanketed in snow.

Master Jiang came to admire the autumn.

The disciple brought him meals.

His junior sister returned with a rainbow-colored auspicious cloud and showed it to him.

On the three arts—“Steal Life to Grant Longevity,” “Sever and Rejoin,” and “Disperse and Reassemble”—Lin Jue’s understanding deepened gradually; he had not yet reached the point in his vision where he himself began to perceive immortality through these insights, yet his comprehension had already surpassed even that vision, and his foundation was naturally more solid.