“Human?”


    The glowing-furred fox spoke human words—clearly no mere beast.


    “Are you a demon?” Han asked, eyeing it. He’d known demons lurked in Black Mountain, but his prior trips had only pitted him against wild beasts. He’d started to think the demon clans stuck to the true Black Mountain’s outer reaches, rarely seen. Yet here one was, its frail vitality making sense now—demons, unlike beasts, didn’t bulk up their bodies.


    Demons and beasts were like cultivators and martial artists among humans, except beasts were all brawn, no brains. Demons honed their souls, awakening intellect and mastering Taoist arts, not flesh. Folktales of snake demons repaying kindness or white foxes knocking on doors? Those were demons—soul-focused, body-second. Sure, some rare demons doubled up, excelling in martial vitality too, but Lu Qingmo had told Han that was a steep climb—way tougher than human dual cultivation.


    Inheritance was the kicker. Humans, at least, had access to basic, universal teachings. Demons? Not so much. Lumped as “demonkind,” their clans varied wildly—snake demons and bird demons were apples and oranges. Without a lineage to guide them, dual-gifted demons were out of luck. Only major clans, like dragons and phoenixes, reliably churned out prodigies. High, pure bloodlines meant they could dual-cultivate if they chose—nature’s unfair perk. True dragons and top-tier phoenixes were born for it, their innate talent the envy of all.


    Ao Xuanwei was one such dual master, and rumor had it Emperor Sui was too—soul and martial prowess both unfathomable. Technically, dragons and phoenixes weren’t “demons” but distinct races, though history tangled them up with demonkind, blurring the lines. Ancient legends even claimed dragons, phoenixes, and kirins once split the world—dragons ruling the seas, phoenixes the skies, kirins the earth. Just myths, though. Kirins were near-extinct, phoenixes holed up in the Mountain-Sea Realm, and dragons clung to the Four Seas—hardly a peaceful reign, with sea clans bowing or rebelling. Neither dragons nor phoenixes rivaled humanity now.


    “I asked first,” the fox piped up, its young voice firm. “Grandpa says that’s polite.”


    Han chuckled. “My bad, then. Yes, I’m human—came in from outside Black Mountain.”


    “Outside?” The fox tilted its head. “You mean that Black Cloud Town place?”


    Han blinked, surprised. “You know Black Cloud Town?”


    “Grandpa told me!”


    “What kind of fox are you?” Han pressed. Demonkind was a sprawling mess—tigers, leopards, jackals, wolves, all bundled together, each splintering into sub-clans. Tigers alone had white tigers, celestial demon tigers, snow tigers… No one could tally every demon lineage; their bloodlines were a labyrinth compared to humans.


    “Grandpa says not to tell strangers what kind of fox I am,” it replied, dead serious.


    Han didn’t mind, grinning instead. “Smart grandpa. Kids need to be cautious out here—don’t trust just anyone, or you might run into trouble.”


    “So, are you a good guy or a bad guy?” the fox asked.


    “I’m not exactly good,” Han said, “but I’m not bad either.”


    “Huh?” The fox squinted, puzzled. “Wait, are you not human then?”


    An Lang snickered beside him.


    Before Han could reply, three more light-flecked shapes darted into view—larger white foxes, about calf-high, their wary eyes lacking the little one’s innocence.


    “Little Yun, back to Grandpa,” the lead fox called, its voice aged and weathered.


    The small fox—Little Yun—hopped off the tree and scampered to their side. “Grandpa, Daddy, Mommy, it’s a human! He says he’s from Black Cloud Town outside—the one you told me about!”


    The fox on the right yanked Little Yun close, clamping its mouth shut.


    “No harm intended,” Han said quickly. “I’m just passing through, stumbled on the little one. I’ll be on my way.”


    He got it now—this valley was their home, and he’d wandered right up to their doorstep.


    “If you’re just passing, go ahead,” the old fox said, voice low. “We Radiant Fox Clan aren’t hosting outsiders right now. Need directions out? I can point the way.”


    Han paused, mulling over “Radiant Fox Clan.” It rang a bell.


    Then it clicked. Back in his Flesh Realm days, using a water-repelling pearl shard to scour the Yun River’s depths for spiritual plants, he’d found a demon skeleton. Tucked in its seventh rib was a jade slip with a technique—Spirit Fusion Art—tied to the Radiant Fox Clan. He’d tapped his soul’s adaptability to mimic their traits, mastering it to break through to Full Visualization and then Out-of-Body, saving him months. Who’d have thought he’d meet them here? Lu Qingmo had mentioned demons dwelt in Black Mountain, after all.


    He studied the four foxes, brow furrowing. Something was off.


    “Senior,” he said, “you’re Radiant Fox Clan?”


    “Indeed,” the old fox confirmed. “What’s on your mind?”


    “If you’re Radiant Foxes, where are your horns?”


    The skeleton he’d found had a horn on its skull. Was this old fox pulling his leg?


    “Horns on foxes?” Little Yun broke free, yipping, “We’re not rhinos!”


    Han blinked. Fair point—hard to argue. But the old fox’s gaze sharpened, a subtle pressure radiating, pressing down on him. He’d felt this before outside—faced it in combat, even. A Manifested Saint aura. This was a grand demon.


    Tension coiled in him, senses on edge. Had he called out a bluff and pissed it off?


    “You’ve seen horned Radiant Foxes?” the old fox asked, voice heavy.


    Han shook his head, backtracking. “No, just heard rumors—Radiant Foxes have horns, stand out from other foxes.”


    The old fox fell silent, its expression shifting, then pressed, “With your martial strength, you shouldn’t be this deep. You’re a cultivator too, aren’t you? Over twenty, likely Day Roaming at least.”


    It hadn’t pierced his soul’s level—just a hunch, but a damn good one. Without knowing his past, pegging him as Day Roaming by age made sense—standard for his years. Visceral martial artists couldn’t reach here; dual cultivation was the only explanation. No Manifested Saint vibe, so Day Roaming fit. Outsiders, aware of his short cultivation time, never guessed he’d hit Day Roaming already. Ignorance stumbled into truth—what a twist.


    “What’s your point, Senior?” Han asked.


    “Black Mountain’s sealed—no Day Roaming cultivator should get in. How’d you manage?”


    “You know about the entry limits?” Han was taken aback.


    “God’s decree,” the old fox said.


    Made sense. The Mountain God had laid down rules months ago—old news these demons still clung to, missing the latest updates.


    Han flashed the Yun family token. “The mountain’s opened up more. With a Yun family token, it’s like the Mountain God’s nod—Day Roaming cultivators and Bone Refining martial artists can enter.”


    The old fox dipped its head. “Divine grace, then.”


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Han seized the moment. This fox revered the Mountain God—part of Yun Yuannan’s faithful demon faction? If they didn’t, knowing he had the God’s blessing, they might’ve attacked already.


    “You worship the Mountain God?” he asked.


    The old fox’s eyes gleamed with fervor. “Every Radiant Fox, top to bottom, is a loyal follower of the great Mountain God!”


    The other two adult foxes mirrored that zeal, even Little Yun showing inklings of it. Han nodded—his cultivation let him spot genuine devotion. The old fox was Manifested Saint, but the others weren’t; they couldn’t fake it past him. A strong soul could peek into hearts, sniffing out lies.


    “One question,” Han said, pointing ahead. “What’s that way?”


    It was the fourth spot’s direction, not far off.


    The old fox sized him up. The one on its left growled, “Human, time to go. You don’t belong here.”


    Han sighed inwardly. Guess he had to flex. He pulled out the cloud-etched Yun token, proof of his tie to the family.


    “I’m here with the Yun family’s blessing, guided by the Mountain God.”


    No more playing coy—I’ve got VIP status!


    Sure enough, the three adult foxes froze, then stood upright, front paws clasped in respectful salute. “Greetings, Emissary of the Mountain God!”


    Han pocketed the token, smiling. “I’m tight with the Yun family—no bluff. Tight enough they’d probably marry me off to one of their daughters if I said yes.”


    The old fox dropped its aura, turning harmless, suspicion fading. “We were rude earlier—forgive us, Emissary.”


    This title was clutch.


    “No worries,” Han waved off. “I didn’t flash my creds upfront.”


    “That direction,” the old fox said, answering his earlier question, “has fierce beasts along the way, then a valley called Wolf Valley, home to a wolf demon clan.”


    “Wolf demons?” Han frowned. “How strong are they? Do they follow the Mountain God?”


    Rage flared in the old fox’s eyes. “Two Manifested Saint wolf kings rule there—barbaric heathens who defy the Mountain God!”


    Unbelievers with two Saint-level kings? Han hoped the fourth spot wasn’t near that mess—talk about a headache.


    “This Fox Valley is our clan’s home,” the old fox added. “If you’ve got time, Emissary, come sit a spell.”


    “Nah,” Han declined. “Got business that way—tight schedule, can’t linger.”


    Until he nabbed the Sky-Mending Vine, he wouldn’t rest easy.


    He headed off with An Lang, the four foxes watching him go. Once he was out of sight, Little Yun’s mother scolded, “No more wandering! It’s dangerous out there, especially with outsiders rolling in now. You lucked out meeting the Emissary—what if it’s a villain next time? What would I do if you got hurt? Stay put from now on!”


    “Got it, got it,” Little Yun mumbled.


    <hr>


    Staring at the rocky valley ahead, then at his navigation artifact, Han fell silent. What a damn coincidence.


    An Lang peeked over, brows knitting. “Master, that’s Wolf Valley, right? The fourth dot’s smack in there—what now?”


    Han mulled it over. Tricks for beasts wouldn’t work on demons—not a whole clan of them. Lure them out? More like walking into their jaws.


    “If push comes to shove, we skip it,” he said. “No way in? We detour. Find the vine elsewhere, and we don’t need to bother with Wolf Valley.”


    Two Saint wolf kings and a pack of demons? Too dicey unless he had no choice.


    An Lang nodded. “Fair plan. But what if the other spots come up empty?”


    Han’s gaze darkened, fixed on the valley. “Then we’ve got no choice but to go in.”


    For the vine, he’d negotiate with those wolves—or worse.


    “Who’s there?” a gruff shout rang out. A gray wolf appeared at the valley’s mouth, sniffing the air before locking onto Han, miles away.


    Han blinked—sharp senses for a demon clan.


    “Human?!” The wolf snarled, baring fangs. “Some outsider dares trespass? You’re dead!”


    Its bellow echoed, alerting the valley, then it leapt skyward toward Han—soul-form, not flesh.


    Han’s face tightened. These wolves weren’t friendly like the foxes. He’d just glanced from miles off, not even close, and they wanted him dead?


    He turned and bolted, shaking the wolf off. It could only glare as he vanished.


    “Master, talking’s off the table with these jerks,” An Lang huffed.


    “I forgot,” Han said. “Humans and demons rarely get along peacefully. The Radiant Foxes are the exception, not the rule.”


    Human-demon strife ran deep, ancient as dirt. Meeting in the wild usually meant fists flying, not words.


    If talk was out, Han didn’t mind fighting. He wasn’t a saint—nor a villain, as he’d told Little Yun—but his own interests came first. He owed the Mountain God and Yun family this trip. Against God-fearing demons, he’d hold back. But these renegades? No qualms about drawing blood.


    The next spot was farther off. By the following night, Han and An Lang arrived, peering at the scene—and froze.


    Two tigers—one black, one white—lounged beneath a massive ancient tree, eyes shut in rest. Their auras hit like a storm, peak-level, dwarfing every beast he’d faced. He’d felt this oppressive might once before, when Bai Tian emerged from Black Mountain to crush the Gao family. Unforgettable.


    These weren’t Peak Marrow Cleansing, but damn close—High Marrow at least.


    Vines dangled from the tree, but from afar, none matched the Sky-Mending Vine’s traits. Hard to be sure without a closer look, though.


    He retreated quietly with An Lang. “Those tigers are nightmares,” he grumbled. “No regular tricks will cut it.”


    Near-Marrow beasts like that? An Lang’s flight wouldn’t save her—one swipe, and she’d be toast. A leap could snatch her mid-air; her speed wouldn’t match. Beasts might lack wits—prep right, and you could outsmart them—but only if the gap wasn’t a chasm. A fledgling Day Roaming ghost versus High Marrow tigers? Brute force trumped all.


    Even siccing wolves on them wouldn’t work. Wolves strong enough to tangle with these tigers would eat Han and An Lang first.


    Plans crumbled before raw power. These tigers owned that power—amped by Black Mountain’s terrain, a beast-infested maze hamstringing an outsider like Han. Fight them? Fine. A horde? He’d burn out fast.


    “Damn it,” Han muttered. “Anywhere else—no beast swarm—I’d take them on.”


    “Burning lifespan again?” An Lang caught on. “Master, ease up—don’t overdo it.”


    “Not here,” Han sighed. “Wouldn’t work anyway.”


    “Send the zombie?” An Lang offered.


    Han tapped her head. “I’m not feeding tigers a snack.”


    Checking the artifact, he decided, “Seven spots total. Three down, two blocked, two left. Let’s hit the rest.”


    By dawn, luck smiled at the sixth spot—no terror beasts. He unearthed a purple stone, buried deep, its vibe rivaling the Molten Ruins Gold—another top-tier find.


    By noon, he reached the seventh and final spot, closer to the true Black Mountain. The sight shut him up.


    A dense forest sprawled, half-high weeds choking the ground. Wolves lounged or stood among them—potent auras all. The two leaders matched the tigers’ might but were worse: a pack. Beyond the alpha pair, lesser wolves oozed Marrow Cleansing pressure.


    One look, and Han turned tail. A wolf pack holding the seventh spot? Nope—not touching that. He’d rather face the tigers or Wolf Valley than this.


    “Master, what now?” An Lang asked. “Wolf Valley, tiger den, wolf pack…”


    Han rubbed his temples. Three brutal hurdles. Wolves everywhere—why so many damn wolves?


    After a beat, he said, “I’ve got a hunch. Not sure it’ll pan out.”


    “What’s the play?”


    “Backtrack first,” Han replied, keeping it vague, and headed out.


    Familiar paths sped their return. By nightfall, he stood at Fox Valley again, making a small ruckus. “Senior Radiant Fox around?”


    Whoosh! The old fox appeared, startled. “Emissary, you’re back? What’s up?”


    “Here’s the deal,” Han said. “Beyond the wolf demons in Wolf Valley, anything special there?”


    The old fox blinked, confused. “Special? What do you mean?”


    Han paused, then explained, “I’m here for something specific. The Mountain God divined a few spots where it might be. Wolf Valley’s one—but those demons block me.”


    The old fox’s eyes widened, tinged with awe. “The Mountain God divined for you? That’s some favor.”


    It pondered, then offered, “Why not come in? We can talk it over. Standing out here feels rude.”


    Han eyed the valley. Stepping in… “Hold on, Senior.”


    He ducked aside, dialed Lu Qingmo, and asked her to check with Yun Yuannan about the Radiant Fox Clan. They seemed devout, but first impressions warranted caution. Foxes were sly, after all.


    Soon, she called back. “Yun says he knows them—God-fearing and sincere. You can trust them; they won’t harm you.”


    “Cool.”


    Han returned, bowing slightly. “Sorry for the delay. I’ll take you up on that.”


    “I’m Hu Tutu,” the old fox said. “No need for ‘Senior’—I’m not worthy.”


    “…Wait, what’s your name?” Han blanked. Hu Tutu? He glanced at its ears—normal-sized, unlike the others.


    “Emissary?”


    “Oh, right,” Han snapped back. “I’ll call you Elder Hu then.”


    “And drop ‘Emissary,’” Han added. “The Mountain God’s gift doesn’t make me that. Name’s Han.”


    “Alright, Young Master Han, this way.”


    Han followed Hu Tutu—not Big-Ear Tutu, mind you—into the valley. As he crossed, ripples shimmered, a thick barrier parting with a flick of Hu’s tail.


    “Our gate array,” Hu explained. “Keeps outsiders and beasts at bay. Last time, I didn’t mention—it’s why I pegged you as a cultivator. Only one could see this valley. Martial artists or beasts? They’d miss it entirely.”


    Han nodded. So his dual nature wasn’t just a wild guess. “Makes sense.”


    “Most demon clans here have arrays like it,” Hu added. “Beast-proofing.”


    No wonder he’d spilled it—standard gear.


    “With beasts everywhere, it’s a lifesaver,” Han agreed, a thought sparking. “Can it be portable?”


    “Sure,” Hu said. “With an array tool, but it’s weaker.”


    “Hide from Marrow Cleansing beasts?”


    “Nope,” Hu clarified. “Masking a still valley’s easy—no life to betray it. Living things? Too tricky for a pared-down version. No invisibility.”


    Han sighed. Figures—hiding a rock beat hiding a person. The valley’s array likely tapped the terrain too; a portable knockoff couldn’t match it.


    Invisibility… Wait. He had that! The Invisibility Talisman from his tree—three uses, then gone. He’d stashed it since his Out-of-Body days, unused. If it cloaked him fully—scent, aura, all—it might crack his problem. But against Manifested Saint demons and Marrow Cleansing beasts? It was an Out-of-Body drop—outclassed now. A flub could be fatal.


    Stick to the plan.


    Shaking it off, Han took in the valley. Lush grass, blooming flowers, a lake with fish and shrimp, fruit-laden trees—a paradise of birdsong and fragrance. Recluses would kill for this. Spacious and brimming with vitality, it was a cultivation haven. Wood huts dotted the area, caves tucked away, all serene—no foxes scampering about.


    Night deepened. A flicker of firelight caught his eye—Hu led him there.


    Up close, a bonfire blazed, dozens of glowing white foxlings circled around, their fur tinting red in the glow. One stood upright, scribbling on a wooden board with a claw.


    “This word’s ‘earth,’” it said, pointing. “What’s under us.”


    “Earth!”


    “Yip!”


    The foxlings chirped back, soaking in the lesson—mostly yips, one managing human speech.


    Han nearly jolted. Fox demons in school? Even they knew to start education young.