Chapter Four: Lost in Thought at the Banquet

It could even be said that a single day of cultivation now benefited Wang Zhenling more than ten days in the past. Such was the advantage of having mastered the art of soul projection. As Wang Zhenling continued his practice, absorbing the essence of sunlight and refining it with the essence of moonlight, circulating it through his body and nourishing his entire being, a faint, radiant aura began to emanate from him.

When night fell and Wang Zhenling once again absorbed the moon’s essence, the three little foxes appeared, just as he had anticipated. The moon’s essence was evidently far more potent for them, filling them with delight as they chirped incessantly, circling Wang Zhenling with playful affection, as if pleading to accompany him every night in gathering moonlight.

Wang Zhenling laughed and said, “Very well, that’s not impossible. Whoever among you behaves best, I’ll bring them with me to cultivate.”

At his words, the three foxes sat neatly, like children in a kindergarten waiting for their teacher’s praise. Wang Zhenling couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, alright, you’re all well-behaved. From now on, when I gather moonlight, you may all join me.”

The three foxes squealed with excitement. Wang Zhenling added, “By the way, when you go home, ask your grandfather for me—where did this luminous pearl come from?”

In truth, Wang Zhenling was eager to learn the origin of the Two Worlds Jade Pivot, though he already had some suspicions. Still, given the opportunity, he wished to inquire.

The three foxes nodded earnestly and scampered away. The next day, they returned. Wang Zhenling intended to ask if they’d discovered anything about the jade casket, but instead, Little White and the others brought him a letter—more precisely, an invitation—formally requesting Wang Zhenling to visit the Fox Clan as a guest.

It was only because Wang Zhenling had attained the realm of soul projection that such an invitation was extended. Had he not reached this state, the Fox Clan would never have invited him—unless in a dream, which would have been quite meaningless.

The handwriting was neat, each stroke carefully rendered, though lacking in structure, much like a child just learning to write. Yet for foxes, being able to write at all was already impressive.

“Me, invited as a guest?” Wang Zhenling’s expression was peculiar. To be hosted in a fox den? He didn’t possess the ability to project his soul at will—how could he attend?

What could they possibly serve at such a banquet? He recalled scenes from tales like Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, where people, bewitched by foxes or spirits, would gorge themselves only to awaken and find they’d eaten nothing but worms and maggots. Wang Zhenling shivered, but quickly dismissed such fanciful fears. Lord Hu was, after all, a well-educated, cultured, disciplined, and cultivated four-fold fox immortal; surely he would never do such things.

He accepted the invitation with pleasure.

That night, Wang Zhenling sat upright on his couch, waiting. Before long, he heard the rumbling of wheels approaching his door, and a respectful voice outside called, “Is Mister Wang present? We are from the Fox Clan, sent by our master to invite Mister Wang to the banquet!”

“I am coming!” Wang Zhenling replied.

In the next instant, his soul appeared outside his body. Under the moonlight, he cast no shadow. Looking down at himself, he found his form was like faint mist—so insubstantial that a strong wind might scatter him to oblivion.

“It’s done!” Joy welled up within Wang Zhenling. This time, he had projected his soul without relying on the pearl’s protective power. The benefits of his daily practice, refining his body with the sun and moon, had strengthened his spirit considerably. The medicinal properties of the jade marrow had also aided him; otherwise, mere cultivation could never yield such rapid progress.

Wang Zhenling savored the experience, yet felt an unsettling sensation. The soul, separated from the flesh, was akin to a person standing naked in broad daylight—a sense of vulnerability and exposure. He understood this was normal: the soul lacked the body’s protection. Once his spirit grew stronger, this discomfort would vanish.

As it was, a single gust of night wind could disperse his frail soul. So Wang Zhenling summoned the pearl, its gentle radiance enveloping him like armor, shielding him from external dangers and gathering his spirit together.

Turning back for a last glance at his body still seated on the couch, Wang Zhenling stepped outside. Without the weight of flesh, his steps felt rootless, floating, and even walking was awkward. Fortunately, after a few steps, he saw a carriage waiting.

He climbed aboard, and Fox Clan guards, bearing lanterns, escorted him as the carriage rolled slowly into the night.

“This carriage is itself a treasure, shielding the soul from the hazards outside—wind, frost, and blade...” This was Wang Zhenling’s first journey as a wandering spirit; everything was novel and amusing.

He knew his spirit was not yet strong enough; even though he could project it, he dared not venture far, remaining within the vicinity of his cottage.

“So the Fox Clan has so many guards...” Wang Zhenling mused. He soon realized these guards were not living people, nor were they foxes—they were spirits, and powerful ones at that, likely fierce ghosts.

Among ghosts, the weakest were wandering souls—harmless, often unable to frighten anyone, and the most prevalent, quickly dissipating and not even qualified to report to the underworld. Next came vengeful ghosts, who died with unresolved resentment; they could harm the living, especially those with weak constitutions or ill fortune. Most ghost stories featured such spirits.

But fierce ghosts were far more terrifying. Vengeful ghosts could only exploit human weaknesses, luring one to suicide or misfortune, but if one resisted, they were powerless. Fierce ghosts, however, could manifest among the living and, if they wished to harm someone, even the strong and healthy could not escape; they could kill outright.

Such fierce ghosts were rare in the world, and ordinary exorcists were helpless against them, sometimes even falling victim themselves.

Now, it seemed the two ghosts harnessed to the carriage were fierce ones. Wang Zhenling was secretly astonished—the Fox Clan’s strength was far greater than he had imagined.