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Chapter 18
“Mountain Lord. Now, tell me—what’s really going on?”
The fox, frowning, transformed into her human form and brushed the dust off her skirt before looking straight at me.
“…I told you before, didn’t I? Those bastards from the Blood Sect captured you, Jinjō, and me—and used us however they pleased.”
“…You did say that. I still can’t quite believe it, though.”
Whether it was displeasure or doubt, the fox’s brows furrowed slightly. But I wasn’t finished speaking.
“Up until now, I couldn’t tell you everything because I needed to focus on recovering my strength. But now, I’ve regained about ten percent of my original power. From here on out, we’ll need to plan our moves carefully.”
“Mountain Lord, I don’t mean to be rude, but… ten percent isn’t much. Compared to what you used to be—”
“I know. It’s woefully insufficient. But do you remember the promise I made? That I’d risk everything to help you so you wouldn’t die in the hands of the Blood Sect?”
“I remember. And I promised, too—that I’d help you until you exacted your revenge on the Blood Sect.”
“That’s why I’m saying this: you’re going to meet with disaster within a year.”
The fox blinked slowly.
“…What did you just say?”
“The time I’ve come back from is, by my guess, about ten years in the future. Maybe even more, but let’s say ten to be safe. Based on that, the time left until I lose contact with you… is about a year.”
The fox froze where she stood. I spoke sincerely, warning her.
“You were the leader of the Hao Clan—an organization run through a web of secret cells, a sect that operates like bats in the dark. Now think: how would the Blood Sect treat a group that trades in information?”
“…”
“If it were me, I’d kill the leader and replace them—or control them like a puppet. And you—you always wore a mask, didn’t you? How many in your sect actually know your face?”
“…Only the executives.”
“And what if those executives were all replaced or turned into puppets?”
“Ha, damn it.”
The fox cursed under her breath and ran a hand through her hair.
“It’s only speculation,” I said. “At the time, I never left the mountain. I didn’t even know you’d been captured until I was taken myself.”
But something still nagged at me.
“The problem is, I’m acting differently from before. I haven’t come into direct contact with the Blood Sect yet, but my arrival must have caused some changes. I don’t know what direction those changes will take, so I can’t let you move around alone.”
“…So you’re saying I should be cautious. Got it. I understand what kind of group we’re dealing with now.”
The fox grimaced.
“Ha, but Mountain Lord—if we don’t gather herbs, your recovery will slow to a crawl.”
“That’s why we need a plan. You can’t go alone, and if I go, I’ll only get in the way in this condition.”
“Then…”
I looked at her—and by the look on her face, she’d reached the same conclusion I had.
“We just won’t move alone, right?”
“As long as you’re not alone, it’s fine.”
At that moment, we both thought of the same creature—the one most skilled in handling poisons, and the one who could best ensure the fox’s safety.
The fox suddenly scooped me up in her arms.
“Are you planning to leave now?”
“Hold on tight, Mountain Lord. I’ll get us out of here as fast as I can.”
And with that, she channeled her qi into her legs and launched herself forward.
“Uuuhhhhhh!”
Gah! My tiny body is too frail—my cheeks are flapping in the wind!
The Jinjō (鴆鳥) was, since ancient times, a bird of poison—feared and shunned by humankind.
Its venom was its means of survival. Lacking sharp claws or a strong beak, its poison was both its weapon for hunting and its shield for protection.
Yet humans, fearing its power, burned entire mountains when a Jinjō was spotted. Even so, they coveted its deadly feathers, saturated with poison. Thus, the Jinjō hid in places beyond human reach.
The crow-like bird now preening its feathers near a great tree by Cheonwolru was one of the few surviving Jinjōs.
It had once followed the Mountain Lord.
Moved by the Mountain Lord’s kindness and warmth, it had found a place of rest at last—and thus placed its trust and faith in her.
Then one day, the Mountain Lord warned it.
[When I go to the human world, you should come with me.]
[Mountain Lord? Me too?]
[Yes. Humans will covet you. Sooner or later, they’ll capture you.]
Had any other spirit said such a thing, the Jinjō would have scoffed and told them to save their dreams for sleep. But it was the Mountain Lord who spoke.
The Mountain Lord never spoke without reason. She might snap when the fox provoked her, but she was, by nature, calm and generous.
Even so, the Jinjō who had followed her for years barely recognized her now—a small tiger cub. But it still believed. Her demeanor, her knowledge of things only the Mountain Lord could know, and that faint but unmistakable aura—though diminished—proved her identity.
[Could the things Mountain Lord spoke of really have happened?]
Still, the Jinjō believed—because the Mountain Lord had never lied. And most of all, her sudden weakening without cause left no room for doubt.
It also couldn’t forget the look in her eyes when she spoke of the Blood Sect. At first, it thought it imagined it, but when it took the form of a crow and watched her from afar at Cheonwolru, it realized otherwise.
The Mountain Lord who once basked in the sunlight, letting small animals nap on her back, was gone.
Now she bore a constant edge—her gaze at times cold and sharp. It was unsettling… even frightening.
At Cheonwolru, she acted much the same as always. But whenever she spoke privately with the fox about the Blood Sect, the air around her grew chilling.
That change alone was enough to make the Jinjō wary.
[Is it because of the future she saw?]
Perhaps the Mountain Lord truly had some special ability—like the rumors said. Maybe she could foresee the future. Or maybe, she really had returned from the future to set things right.
The Jinjō decided to help her. Like the fox, it owed her a great debt—and it wouldn’t miss the chance to repay it.
So it endured the noisy, foul-smelling human world with patience.
Though it disguised itself as a crow to avoid attention…
[…]
As it mulled over its thoughts, something strange caught its eye.
One figure was clearly the fox in her human disguise. The other—a small human child.
But the fox never kept children around her, did she?
Just as the Jinjō began to wonder, a familiar voice echoed in its mind.
[Jinjō! Come here for a moment!]
‘Mountain Lord?!’
Spreading its wings, the Jinjō swooped down toward them.
Seeing the Mountain Lord in human form was surprising—but even more so was her determination to involve herself so deeply in the human world that she had learned transformation magic.
‘Are the Blood Sect people really that dangerous?’
It glared at the fox.
[Fox. Why didn’t you stop her? The Mountain Lord, taking the form of a human—!]
[It was her decision.]
[Yes, I wanted this. Don’t blame the fox.]
[M-Mountain Lord…]
Startled by her calm rebuke, the Jinjō trailed off awkwardly. The Mountain Lord approached and gently patted its back, and only then did it regain its composure.
[Ah, right. You called for me, Mountain Lord? What’s the matter?]
[Yes. I’d like you to travel with the fox for a while, if you can.]
At that, the Jinjō turned to the fox.
[…I can, but… not exactly thrilled about it.]
[You think I like it either? This is all for the Mountain Lord’s sake.]
[It’ll be safer this way. There’s nothing wrong with being cautious.]
[Why do I have to travel with her?!]
It bristled instinctively, then forced itself to calm down.
[Ahem. Well, since it’s the Mountain Lord’s request, I suppose I have no choice. Still, traveling with that peacock-brained creature isn’t exactly my idea of fun.]
[Peacock? Ha! Do I look like some preening bird? I’m a clever, nimble fox, not a gaudy show-off.]
[Right, you just make “sly and cowardly” sound flattering.]
[And you—don’t act like you’re any better, circling around without ever doing anything useful. Who’s the pathetic one here, really?]
[What did you just say?!]
“Now, now. Both of you, calm down,” I finally interjected. “We’ll need to work together, not squabble.”
At that, the two glared at each other for a moment, then turned away with a huff.
After a long sigh, the Jinjō spread its wings and landed on the fox’s shoulder.
[Let’s get this over with quickly. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can stop smelling her.]
[…Says the one stinking of poison.]
Watching the two bicker, the childlike Mountain Lord let out a small sigh.
It was the reaction she expected—yet, for now, it was the best arrangement they could hope for.
