Chapter 20: Chapter Twenty: The Fox

Still a stone chamber within the mountain’s belly.

As Chen Hang exited the Zhenfa Realm, his true body on the central mat slowly opened his eyes, two beams of brilliant light blazing forth, steady as a candle.

“Ying ying, ying ying, ying ying ying ying~”

Chen Hang turned his head to look.

Outside the cave, faint cries and scrabbling sounds came from some small beast, and by the noise, it seemed not one, but a group.

“Ying ying, ying ying, ying ying ying~”

Not long after, the group of small beasts cried out again.

This time, the cave echoed with thudding impacts—boom, boom—along with muffled cries of pain, lively and chaotic.

“Fool.”

A cold sneer surfaced on Chen Hang’s face, and his heart settled slightly.

He had initially suspected Yan Ping, disregarding sect rules, had traveled a thousand li to Lanliang City to seek revenge.

Thus, beneath his wide sleeves, his left hand gripped the Thunderfire Thunderbolt Pearl tightly, ready to hurl it at the first sign of danger.

Even if it cost him his fetal breath, he didn’t care.

But the sounds clearly indicated a group of spiritually awakened small beasts causing trouble—and a rather unintelligent group at that.

The thumping outside the cave, besides being the sound of thrown stones…

The cries of pain and uncontrollable wailing revealed that some particularly dim-witted ones had actually used their heads to bang against the door, hoping to smash it open.

From those wails, it was clear this head-banging had achieved nothing—perhaps even left them with several large bumps.

…

“This sealing stone weighs nearly ten thousand jin. Normally, it’s moved by a mechanism to allow entry or exit. If you bang your head against it, you’ll be banging till your next life with no result.”

Chen Hang smiled faintly.

He no longer paid attention to the “ying ying” cries; instead, he took out a small White Sun Pill and dropped it into his water cup. When the pill dissolved, he drank it all at once.

Soon, a warm, soothing heat spread through his limbs and organs, making him feel as if bathed in sunlight, utterly comfortable, prompting a soft sigh.

Though faint, this sound inside the cave was still heard.

The group of small beasts fell silent for a moment, then grew even more excited, crying “ying ying” wildly, like a horde of demons dancing. Seeing Chen Hang still did not emerge, they took it as fear, growing bolder, their cries rising in waves.

Among them,

there were also occasional dull thuds of heads striking the door, relentless.

Chen Hang pretended not to hear any of it.

Once the White Sun Pill’s potency was fully absorbed, he rose slowly, slung his sword at his waist, and took down the vermilion-painted great bow from the cave wall.

“This cry… sounds a bit like a fox?”

Chen Hang listened carefully for a while, then understood—his suspicions formed.

Yang Mountain was never originally Yangshan Daoist’s domain; its true masters were a group of white foxes who cultivated the Path of Incense and Worship.

Yangshan Daoist, relying on his potent talismans and artifacts, shattered their temple and drove them away, seizing the mountain.

What became of the white foxes afterward, where they went—no one knew, and the matter remained an unsolved mystery.

But Chen Hang had not expected that after Yangshan Daoist’s death, these foxes had returned to their old home and boldly came to his very door to provoke him.

“Interesting. If Yangshan Daoist could defeat you, why can’t I kill you?”

Chen Hang calmly fastened his quiver to his back, his eyes brimming with killing intent:

“Your Golden Body was shattered, your temple burned. Even if you cultivate the Divine Path, you cannot so easily restore your foundation. Now you come knocking—do you think my sword is dull?”

He turned the door’s arm, and with the sound of a mechanism turning, the sealing stone shifted aside.

Chen Hang stepped out, hand on his sword.

It was a time of bright moon and sparse stars; the ground glowed as if dusted with white frost, cold and desolate, chilling to the bone.

“Which esteemed cultivator is playing tricks here? Will you please show yourself?”

Chen Hang gripped the Thunderfire Thunderbolt Pearl within his sleeve and spoke in a deep voice.

The surrounding thickets rustled instantly, and faintly, countless emerald-green beast eyes flickered in the dark, like ghostly flames.

He asked three more times, but received no reply—until far off, a woman’s light laugh suddenly rang out.

The laugh was like silver bells tinkling, crisp and pleasant, as if right nearby.

Chen Hang knew the foxes were luring him, but he felt no fear; he merely straightened his sleeves and followed the sound.

After climbing several small hills and walking for half a stick of incense, Chen Hang heard the rushing sound of a waterfall.

This was a small mountain cascade on Yang Mountain, once used by Yangshan disciples for water.

Now, a beautiful woman in only a thin white silk gauze, barefoot, bathed in the water. Her face held an uncanny seductiveness, her figure full and mature; the soaked silk clung tightly to her skin, clearly outlining her rounded chest and slender waist, stirring heat in any man who saw her.

“The night is long, tormenting the heart. To meet you tonight is a divine blessing—will you share my bed?”

She lifted her head and spoke in a sweet, alluring voice:

“I, your humble—”

Mid-sentence,

she fell silent.

At that moment, moonlight pierced through the dark clouds, pouring down in clear, bright radiance, bathing Chen Hang in silver.

A youth in black robes stood still in the moonlight, his skin whiter than snow, his bearing serene and otherworldly, like a jade stone freshly washed from pure water, beautiful beyond gazing upon.

His face was a masterpiece of heaven’s craftsmanship—exquisitely refined and noble, yet his eyes, always as cold and still as deep palace snow, lent his features a touch of exquisite detachment and timeless aloofness.

Stones piled like jade, pines lined like emerald; his splendor unmatched, peerless in the world.

The woman in the pool stared, stunned. Long moments passed before she slapped herself hard, snapping back to reality.

“Maybe… wait a moment? I’ll go change my face?”

She chuckled nervously, cautiously asking: “Uh… do you mind if your face wears female clothes?”

“Is that all?”

Chen Hang sneered, drew his bow, and shot!

As the arrow flew through the air, a thunderclap cracked—then a white-furred male fox screamed in pain, arrow embedded in its rump, frantically crashing into the stone wall behind the pool and vanishing.

With his escape, a chorus of panicked “ying ying” cries erupted; dozens of white foxes of all sizes scrambled into the stone wall.

One, its head swollen with bumps, looked especially foolish—spinning in circles, unable to find the special wall, frantically crying “ying ying.”

“This is interesting—a formation?”

Chen Hang kicked the lone foolish fox aside, his body flickering as he stepped into the stone wall.

Instantly, darkness swallowed him.

But after three or four breaths, a vast space appeared before him.

Pavilions, terraces, houses neatly arranged.

Dozens of paces across from Chen Hang stood a youth in yellow robes, holding a magic sword, staring at him in shock and fear.

After a long pause, he gathered his courage and shouted:

“Who dares intrude here? This… this is the Nine Huang Changyang Golden Palace of the Chiming Sect! You—”

Before he finished, Chen Hang fired three arrows in succession, sending him sprawling backward.

When the yellow-robed youth staggered to his feet, dazed, a large red-and-white pearl hovered above his head, crackling with thunder and fire.

“Brother, brother, I’m just joking, Tu Shan Ge! Don’t do this…”

The yellow-robed youth’s knees buckled, trembling as he pleaded:

“Quickly, take back the pearl! Don’t… don’t harm the harmony between our two sects!”