The trek back to Fox Valley wasn’t without incident. Han and his group crossed paths with a few wild beasts, lured by the chaos at Wolf Valley. No negotiations were needed—fists flew, but they shook off the pursuers, leaving the creatures to roar their displeasure into the wind.


    “Young Master Zhou, are you alright?” Hu Tutu asked, his voice tinged with worry.


    Han brushed it off with a casual wave. “I’m fine. Didn’t burn much lifespan—just a small hiccup.”


    Hu Tutu let out a sigh. “Why risk so much, Young Master? You’re in your prime—squandering your years like this isn’t worth it. With your strength, you might’ve held Wolf Hong in check without torching a single day.”


    Hu Tutu wasn’t blind. He’d seen Han’s brilliance in that Yin-Yang fusion move—an awe-inspiring flame technique unlike anything he’d encountered. Its sheer power spoke volumes about Han’s talent, a level Hu Tutu could scarcely fathom. Before, his kindness had been partly due to the Yun family token and Han bearing their lost legacy. Now, he genuinely admired Han’s gifts and might.


    This human, stumbled upon by chance, had a future far beyond what an old fox like him could dream of. Crossing paths with him was a boon for the Light Fox Clan.


    Yet that was precisely why Han’s lifespan-burning antics baffled him. What could possibly outweigh one’s own life force? If he knew Han had burned twenty years, he’d probably keel over in shock.


    Twenty years? Unimaginable.


    No one truly got Han—no one could. Life’s a solitary climb, cold as snow, he thought wryly.


    “This thing matters more to me than you can imagine,” Han said with a grin. “A few years? I’d trade centuries—millennia, even—if it meant securing it.”


    “You’re a man driven by heart, Young Master,” Hu Tutu replied, shaking his head. He didn’t quite buy it but let it drop. It wasn’t his lifespan on the line, after all. Han’s talk of centuries or millennia? He dismissed it as bravado. As if you’ve got that much to burn… Even the longest-lived races didn’t boast such reserves at Day-Wandering Realm.


    Back in Fox Valley, Han sensed a second presence in the room with his body, alongside An Lang. No alarm bells rang—he already knew who it was.


    Sure enough, Xiao Yun, the little fox, was perched there, eyes wide as An Lang regaled her with stories.


    “You’re back, Young Master!” An Lang chirped.


    “Did you beat those big bad wolves?” Xiao Yun asked, curiosity sparkling in her gaze.


    Han drifted into his body and nodded with a smile. “Of course. Just a few pesky wolves—nothing to it.”


    Before Xiao Yun could press further, Hu Tutu entered, gently ushering her out.


    “Young Master Zhou…” he began.


    “Here’s the Spirit Fusion Method,” Han said, handing over the jade slip.


    Hu Tutu had poured his all into helping him; Han wouldn’t renege. The slip was useless to him—returning it to its rightful owners felt fitting. Crafted from their ancestor’s bones, it carried deep practical and symbolic weight for the clan.


    Hu Tutu’s hands shook as he accepted it. “After all these years, the Spirit Fusion Method is back with us. Bless the Mountain God, bless our ancestors—and thank you, Young Master Zhou. You’re our eternal benefactor and friend!”


    Tucking it away, Hu Tutu’s joy was palpable, his gratitude overflowing with kind words. And why wouldn’t he be thrilled? The raid on the Moon-Chasing Wolves cost the Light Fox Clan nothing—no lives lost, no injuries—while their rivals were left reeling. With the Spirit Fusion Method reclaimed, their future gleamed brighter.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    When the thanks tapered off, Han smiled. “Elder Hu, I’ve got what I came for. I won’t overstay my welcome—I’m heading out now.”


    “Why not rest here a few days?” Hu Tutu urged. “Let me play the proper host. You’ve done so much—I’d feel rotten not repaying you.”


    “You’re too generous, Elder Hu,” Han said, chuckling as he shook his head. “I’m itching to get home. Someone’s waiting, and after days in the mountains, my family’s probably worried sick.”


    Hu Tutu’s tone turned wistful. “If home’s calling, I won’t keep you. But if you ever get the chance, Young Master, Fox Valley’s always open to you.”


    He pulled a fox-shaped wooden carving from his spatial pouch. “Alive or not, I swear you’ll always be our most honored guest.”


    “Follow me, please,” he added, stepping out.


    Curious, Han trailed him. Xiao Yun’s mother approached with a tray bearing a wooden box. Hu Tutu opened it, revealing a glowing six-leafed herb.


    “This is Radiant Grass,” he said. “It strengthens the soul’s yang energy and boosts wisdom. It’s as vital to us as the Moon-Receiving Spring and Moon God Tree are to the wolves. Please, take it.”


    “Elder Hu, I can’t—” Han protested, noting the longing in the other foxes’ eyes. This herb was rare, reserved for those with great deeds or prodigious talent. Their deal had been square—he wasn’t one to overreach.


    But Hu Tutu wouldn’t budge, and Han relented.


    After a moment’s thought, he pulled a stack of books from his spatial ring. “You’ve treated me with honesty—I can’t just take without giving. These are righteous classics. They might help the young ones sharpen their minds and grasp deeper truths.”


    Hu Tutu’s eyes narrowed as he took them, sensing their unusual aura. “Pardon me,” he muttered, flipping one open. His face lit up. “This… could these be the fabled classics imbued with Righteous Qi?”


    “…”


    Fabled? That’s a bit much.


    Han nodded. “They’ve got Righteous Qi, yeah.”


    “Too precious—far too precious! I can’t accept…” Hu Tutu’s eyes shone with yearning, but he shook his head.


    To him, these books dwarfed the Radiant Grass in value. For demons, righteous texts were transformative—younglings raised on them would grow razor-sharp and wise, a boon beyond words. He’d only heard whispers of such treasures, never seen them.


    Han gave an odd smile. “Not precious at all. Keep them.”


    To him, they weren’t. He’d copied them himself.


    Lacking a proper cultivation method, he’d built his Righteous Qi the hard way—reciting and transcribing sage words. His copies naturally carried that energy, brimming with subtle magic.


    Back at Black-White Tower, he’d paid for such texts. Now, he could churn them out—practically free, anytime he pleased.


    To him, they were trivial. To the world? Priceless. The Sage Academy’s yearly output fetched fortunes.


    Han had accidentally stumbled into a money-making gig—writing books to scrape by if push came to shove.


    Hu Tutu finally stowed them, his gratitude hitting new heights. Young Master Zhou, a true gentleman!


    “Everyone, I’m off,” Han said with a grin. “Till we meet again—if fate allows.”


    He crouched to pat Xiao Yun’s head. “Study hard, little one.”


    Hu Tutu and the foxes saw him off a short way.


    “Elder Hu, no need to go further. This is good.”


    With that, Han and An Lang headed off, their figures fading into the distance until they vanished from sight.


    Hu Tutu sighed deeply. “Young Master Zhou’s a godsend for our clan.”


    “Mark this: don’t harm humans lightly. If you meet him, show him the respect you’d give me.”


    “Yes!” the foxes chimed.


    “Grandpa, I wanna be as cool as that human big brother!” Xiao Yun yipped.


    Hu Tutu ruffled her head, his senses lingering on the jade slip and classics in his pouch. “You will be, Xiao Yun.”


    With the Spirit Fusion Method back, these texts, and her talent, the Light Fox Clan might reclaim its peak—or even claim a spot on the Divine Mountain! Her ability to speak so young marked her as their future star.


    And then there was Wolf Valley…


    Their foes were battered, their array in ruins—a perfect opening.


    “Hu Lielei,” Hu Tutu said to a male fox, “you’ve been at Day-Wandering Peak for years. With our ancestor’s legacy back, you’ll be the first to tap into their True Will. I hope it lifts you to Sanctification.”


    “Don’t worry, Father—I won’t let you down!” Hu Lielei—Hu Tutu’s son and Xiao Yun’s dad—nodded, eyes ablaze.


    He’d never practiced the Spirit Fusion Method. This shot at a breakthrough was golden.


    The foxes slipped back into the valley, mist cloaking it from prying beasts.


    Far off, Han’s steps were buoyant, An Lang floating beside him. Both were riding high.


    “Young Master, shouldn’t we tell Sister Lu about the Sky-Mending Vine?” An Lang asked.


    “Nah,” Han said, smiling. “I’ll surprise her face-to-face when we’re out.”


    No navigation artifact needed now—he knew the way like the back of his hand.


    “You didn’t tell that little fox the outside’s all rosy, right?”


    “Nope. I told Xiao Yun how I died.”


    “…”


    Let’s skip that topic. Bit weird.


    The journey back felt liberating. Even the air tasted sweet.


    To Han, this mountain trip had its bumps but had gone off without a hitch. Leaving now? Smooth sailing.


    What could possibly go wrong on the way out?