Chapter Three: The Little Fox

The profound brilliance of Wang Ling’s Primordial Dragon-Tiger Elixir Thunder Method lay precisely in its dual action: gathering vital energy while simultaneously refining it, nourishing both the organs and meridians. At that moment, Wang Ling’s five viscera, seen through his inner sight, appeared almost translucent.

Had any practitioner witnessed this scene, they would have been utterly astonished. No one would have imagined that a scion of a great clan like the Wang family of Wanling would secretly cultivate, much less attain such a realm.

Though this method was one Wang Ling had mastered in a previous life, after being reborn into this world, he made various adjustments to suit the local circumstances. With the passage of time and change of worlds, the laws of the Dao could not be identical; even if the “Way” runs through all things, the “Methods” must adapt from age to age.

Thus, to transplant a cultivation method from another world without any modification would be impossible. Wang Ling had been able to access the local arts of cultivation only because his father in this life had left them behind. His father, though a member of the Wang clan of Danling, had left home in search of immortality, often gone for months on end. Yet, from the time Wang Ling was five years old, his father departed and never returned—whether he perished in mountain ravines or was seized and beheaded by the authorities was uncertain.

In this world, the pursuit of Dao through script and law in times of chaos, or heroism through martial arts, were both harshly suppressed by the government. Martial practitioners who refused to serve the court were especially targeted. Every year, the city gates would display the severed heads of executed cultivators.

No wonder people assumed Wang Ling’s father in this life was already dead. Fortunately, before departing, he left a scroll at home containing the essential techniques. When the furious elders threatened to burn it, the young Wang Ling had already memorized its contents.

Now, though Wang Ling continued his cultivation, he did so with utmost caution, practicing only in secret. As his five viscera were nourished, his energy slowly strengthened. Within his sea of consciousness, that indistinct white shadow—the nascent spirit—gradually descended into the central palace, receiving nourishment and growing clearer with each passing moment.

Such was the true marvel of the Primordial Dragon-Tiger Elixir Thunder Method, blending internal alchemy and thunder arts. In his former life, it was an unparalleled Daoist technique, formidable beyond compare.

Nevertheless, in any world, cultivators were always most vigilant during practice, for gathering vital energy exposed them to the threat of external evil. Thus, practitioners would either set up secluded meditation chambers, have guardians stand watch, or employ talismans to ward off malign spirits.

Wang Ling had made his own arrangements, aided by Wang Yue, who brought the inkstone habitually used by an old scholar to place in the room. That scholar, a county instructor, though an official, had cultivated uprightness and clear spirit all his life. The objects he used were enough to frighten off most lesser ghosts.

Yet, when Wang Ling opened his eyes, as expected, he found that a pure white fox had somehow slipped into the room, lying beside him, comically imitating his meditation posture, even mimicking the closing movements of his practice.

Seeing Wang Ling awake, the fox showed no fear, nor did it flee. Instead, it placed its paws together before its head in a gesture of respect, then darted out through the door crack. Its snowy fur stood out starkly against the night, but it moved with such speed that it seemed a streak of lightning. On the ground, a few coins glinted conspicuously.

Wang Ling could not help but shake his head—this little white creature had brought gifts again.

Living in the mountains as a tomb keeper, Wang Ling often found the fox coming to observe him during his nightly cultivation. At first, it had been wary, but seeing there was no danger, it gradually grew bolder. Now, each evening as Wang Ling practiced, the fox would arrive, settle at his side, and earnestly imitate his meditation.

Whenever Wang Ling gathered vital energy, the fox seemed even more elated, following the rhythm of his breath. “So that’s it—the little thing is here to steal energy. Clever creature…” he mused. He had once wondered what benefit the fox gained from simply mimicking his movements, knowing nothing of inner cultivation. But as he activated the cosmic mechanism and drew in the ambient spiritual energy, it naturally gathered around him. The fox had clearly sensed this, coming every day to breathe in the gathered energy alongside him.

Such events were not uncommon in ancient lore, especially in a world as primitive and abundant in spiritual energy as this one.

Since spirits and ghosts were prevalent, it was hardly surprising that monsters and fae existed as well. Any living thing that by chance consumed celestial nectar or obtained some other fortuitous encounter, awakening spiritual intelligence, would instinctively grasp the rudiments of cultivation—worshipping the moon, breathing exercises, and the like.

Such animals and plants were known as spirits or fae. However, lacking a lineage or true instruction, they could only manage these crude methods, rarely achieving much. Their progress depended on the slow accumulation of power over centuries. Thus, in ancient tales, monsters who had trained for five hundred or even a thousand years were still no match for monks or Daoists of a few decades’ practice.

This little fox, however, was clever, perhaps by instinct sensing the benefit of the energy converging here. Watching it imitate his cross-legged posture and even the motions of closing a session, Wang Ling could not help but laugh once. “Well now, you little rascal—not only stealing my technique, but my energy as well…”

The fox, startled by Wang Ling’s early awakening, vanished with a swish. Wang Ling thought it would be frightened off for a while, and even felt a twinge of regret. Life in the mountains was lonely and austere; having the fox for company was actually rather pleasant.

Yet that night, the fox returned, bringing a gift—a freshly killed rabbit. “So, the little thing has even learned bribery…” Wang Ling thought.

From then on, Wang Ling continued his secluded cultivation, gathering energy and tempering his spirit each day. Every night, the little fox would come, sometimes bearing gifts—a dead rabbit, a bird, a venomous snake, or even, on occasion, coins, hairpins, and jade pendants, all exuding a distinct earthy smell, clearly unearthed from some grave.