Chapter Text
Night cloaked Qing Jing Peak in silver and shadow.
The endless bamboo forest surrounding the peak swayed beneath the moonlit sky, their slender stalks whispering softly as the mountain wind passed through them. Far above the world below, the peak stood in tranquil isolation, hidden among drifting clouds and starlight.
Nestled within the bamboo grove stood a simple bamboo house.
A warm lantern glowed behind its paper windows, casting faint golden light onto the wooden floor within. The house belonged to Shen Qingqiu more accurately, Shen Jiu, the Lord of Qing Jing Peak.
Inside, silence reigned.
Shen Jiu sat beside a low table, a book open before him. The lantern's glow illuminated his sharp features, though his expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever. One slender hand turned a page while the other rested upon the table.
Outside, the bamboo leaves rustled.
Then came another sound.
A faint cry.
Shen Jiu paused.
His eyes lifted from the page.
The sound was weak, almost lost beneath the whispering bamboo, but his senses were far sharper than those of an ordinary cultivator.
Again.
A soft whimper echoed through the grove.
His brows furrowed slightly.
No disciple should be wandering near his residence at this hour, and few animals dared approach the peak lord's home.
Closing the book, Shen Jiu rose from his seat.
The bamboo floor creaked softly beneath his steps as he made his way outside.
Cool mountain air greeted him immediately.
Moonlight filtered through the dense forest of bamboo, painting the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow. The wind tugged gently at the sleeves of his robes as he listened.
There.
The sound came once more.
Without hesitation, Shen Jiu followed it deeper into the grove.
The bamboo grew thicker the farther he walked. Leaves brushed against one another overhead, creating a sea of quiet whispers. Apart from that and the distant call of a night bird, the mountain remained silent.
Then he saw it.
At the base of a cluster of bamboo stalks lay a small figure partially concealed by fallen leaves.
A fox.
Its fur was pure white, almost glowing beneath the moonlight. Dark stains of blood marred the pristine coat along one hind leg, and several smaller wounds traced its side. It looked exhausted, as though it had traveled far before collapsing here.
The fox stirred at his approach.
Slowly, it raised its head.
Emerald-green eyes met black jade eyes.
The forest seemed to fall silent.
For a brief moment, neither moved.
The fox's gaze was strange—far too intelligent for an ordinary beast. There was caution in those green eyes, but no fear. Even injured and vulnerable, it watched him steadily.
Shen Jiu narrowed his eyes.
A spirit beast, perhaps.
Or something pretending to be one.
The fox's ears twitched.
Another gust of wind swept through the bamboo grove, scattering leaves across the ground. The fox's body trembled, its strength clearly fading, yet it continued to hold his gaze.
Shen Jiu remained standing where he was, expression unreadable beneath the moonlight.
Whatever this creature was, it did not belong on Qing Jing Peak.
And yet, somehow, it had found its way here.