Han’s arrival interrupted the Light Foxes’ study session.


    Next to the tiny Light Fox cubs, Han, a human, towered like a giant—impossible to miss.


    “It’s you!” a small, youthful voice called out. Han traced the sound and, despite the cubs looking nearly identical, picked out Xiao Yun—the only one who could speak human words. The rest still yipped in foxish nonsense.


    Just then, several larger foxes stepped from the shadows, eyeing Han cautiously.


    “This is the Mountain God’s emissary, Han—Young Master Zhou,” Hu Tutu announced. “I invited him to Fox Valley as our esteemed guest.”


    The big foxes nodded, their wariness fading, and they melted back into the dark. A Mountain God emissary, personally welcomed by Hu Tutu, was reason enough to relax.


    Glancing at the cluster of cubs, Han smiled. “This scene’s something else. Reading and learning—it’s a fine thing.”


    Hu Tutu bowed his head slightly. “You’re too kind, Young Master.”


    “No, I was the clueless one before,” Han said with a grin. “Reading brings understanding and awakens the spirit—a true path for all.”


    Humans who skipped books turned dim and muddled—tough to teach. For demons, it was even more pronounced. They had their own cultures and legacies, though Han had never seen anything like this before. Compared to wild beasts, the difference was night and day.


    “Exactly,” Hu Tutu agreed. “Even demons should study the sages’ words and grasp the world’s truths. Legends say that when the old sages spoke, plants gained awareness, beasts sat still, and all spirits heard the Way, turning into demons. Our Light Fox Clan craves that wisdom. Stories even tell of beasts serving as sages’ disciples, reaching immortality—a dazzling era.”


    Han longed for that too. Tales of sages lecturing were pure wonder—masters of universal truths with incredible powers. One talk could enlighten countless beings, boost their strength, mend feuds, and reform the wicked.


    Demons often learned human speech not just because humans ruled today, but because the sages’ teachings were a draw. From simple words, they glimpsed deep insights; from texts, they felt the sages’ will. For demons, this was key—understanding lifted them above savagery, smoothing their cultivation. Studying human language and classics was a must for any clan with a heritage.


    Too bad true sages were gone. Even the Sage Academy’s top name on the Mountains and Rivers Roll was just a sub-sage, too modest to claim the real title. The Academy supposedly upheld the sages’ legacy, but even its immortals wouldn’t dare match the ancients.


    “But why’s Xiao Yun the only one here speaking human?” Han asked.


    “Because I’m the best!” Xiao Yun darted to Hu Tutu’s side, eyes sharp with pride. “I’m the smartest Light Fox!”


    “Her talent’s top-notch,” Hu Tutu said, patting her head with a paw.


    “Do foxes need to refine some throat bone to talk like us?” Han asked, intrigued.


    “A throat bone?” Hu Tutu chuckled, shaking his head. “If there were some spare bone jamming up the throat, messing with life, wouldn’t every demon drop dead young?”


    Han flushed a bit. Fair enough. Thanks, past-life storybooks—leading me astray. He’d half-thought demons had some literal bone to dissolve before speaking. On reflection, a bone stuck in the throat would’ve been a death sentence.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    “With a strong soul and sharp mind, a demon can start learning human words and try speaking,” Hu Tutu explained. “Without some lucky break, it hinges on cultivation and insight. Switching to an outside tongue means rewiring a lot—it’s no breeze. So far, only Xiao Yun’s pulled it off among the young ones.”


    Xiao Yun lifted her head high, practically glowing with smugness.


    Han nodded, getting it. Like picking up a foreign language, just with a bigger jump. He’d loved languages in his old life—a solid habit worth praising. Especially that one from the land of cushy days.


    “Emissary, where’s that big sister who was with you?” Xiao Yun tilted her head, curious.


    “Xiao Yun, back to your lessons—don’t pester Young Master Zhou,” Hu Tutu said, nudging her away.


    After the fox meet-and-greet, Hu Tutu led Han into a two-story wooden lodge and offered tea. The whole setup felt downright novel—talking foxes, cubs gathered to study, and now a fox brewing tea. Human quirks, all foxed up. Watching Hu Tutu steep the leaves was a trip.


    “Sorry for the simple welcome,” Hu Tutu said.


    Han waved it off, then shifted to Wolf Valley talk.


    Hu Tutu sorted his thoughts before answering. “Wolf Valley’s got dozens of Moon-Chasing Wolf demons. They worship the moon, their blood humming with lunar power—Taiyin Moon Force, their big thing. The top dogs are the Wolf King and Queen, both Sanctified Great Demons. Last I crossed those two creeps, the King was Late Sanctification, the Queen Early.”


    “The valley’s layout’s like ours, but it’s packed with beasts they’ve tamed—for chow and cub training.”


    “Late and Early Sanctification…” Han pressed, “When’d you last see them, Elder Hu?”


    “Five years ago.”


    “How’s their bloodline rank among demons?”


    Bloodlines were everything for demons—strength and ceilings tied to them. A Late and Early Sanctified pair was nasty, but a killer bloodline on top would make them a real pain.


    “The Moon-Chasing Wolf bloodline’s pretty solid,” Hu Tutu said.


    “…”


    Too broad to pin down.


    “Against a true dragon?”


    “No chance against a true dragon,” Hu Tutu snorted. “More like a run-of-the-mill jiaolong. They get a boost under moonlight, though.”


    That clicked for Han. A basic jiaolong? Low-tier scrubs, then.


    “Any standout spots in Wolf Valley—like spiritual plants or treasure zones—you know about, Elder Hu?”


    “I’ve got some scoop,” Hu Tutu said easily. “There’s the Moon-Receiving Sacred Spring, core to their legacy. Plus a Moon God Tree that pops out Moon God Fruit every so often—their clan prize.”


    “Moon God Tree? Big talk for a name,” Han said, shaking his head. As a moon god fanboy, he’d need to scope that out.


    “Besides the spring and tree, there’s other loot, but nothing tops those.”


    Han nodded but kept the lesser stuff in play. What if the Sky-Mending Vine’s hint was tied to something the wolves missed?


    “You know Wolf Valley inside out, huh, Elder Hu?”


    “We’re sworn enemies with the Moon-Chasing Wolves,” Hu Tutu said. “Since settling here, we’ve tangled plenty. You pick up stuff over time.”


    “Settling here?” Han caught the hitch. “The Light Fox Clan wasn’t always here?”


    Hu Tutu sighed, a touch of gloom in his voice. “Nope. We used to live closer to the Divine Mountain—rich land. The clan was way bigger back then. At our height, we nearly won the right to thrive there. Then disaster hit, we fell apart, and the leftovers ended up here. These cubs came later.”


    “The Divine Mountain’s Black Mountain, right? What’s the entry ticket?”


    “Any demon clan that spawns a Yin God Realm Demon Venerable can ask the Mountain God to move in.”


    So the Light Foxes had been hotshots once, almost birthing a Yin God. Han’s mind ticked, flashing to the skeleton and Spirit Fusion Method he’d snagged from Yunjiang’s depths.


    Lu Qingmo had said it was huge for demons—letting them tap ancestral True Will, merging souls to draw old power. A root legacy, basic but essential. Yet the Light Foxes’ version had been buried at Yunjiang for who-knows-how-long.


    This sparked an idea in Han. His plan might just pan out.


    Stymied by wolves, tigers, and beasts, he’d clocked that his own juice wouldn’t cut it against those three. He’d need backup. Deep in Black Mountain, with no humans around, the Mountain God-loving Light Foxes were his top pick for a deal.


    He hadn’t been sure it’d work—too dicey, especially as a faux-Yun. But now, he had a thread to pull.


    “Outside the valley, I mentioned a horned Light Fox, and you got worked up, Elder Hu,” Han tested. “What’s the deal with them?”


    Hu Tutu’s gaze turned nostalgic. “It’s no secret—lots of clans know. We’ve only had one horned Light Fox, thanks to a fluke twist. He was our brightest star, later our strongest. He nearly hit Yin God, pushing us to new peaks. Then trouble brewed. Word of his final seclusion slipped out, and enemies pounced. The Horned Light Fox came out, smashed them, but got hunted down and disappeared. We lost tons of powerhouses in that mess and slid downhill.”


    Han listened quietly, sighing inside. That’s the wrong playbook. Shouldn’t the Horned Light Fox have broken through at the clutch, wiped the floor with everyone, and locked down all foes? No hero vibes there.