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Chapter 15
Energy slowly began to gather around the small tiger cub.
The tiger, its fur now returned to its original bluish hue, sat still with eyes closed, not moving an inch.
Watching over the silent mountain lord (Sangun), the fox also returned to his true form — a black fox with nine tails.
Though younger than the mountain lord, he too had existed for over eight hundred years — an ancient spirit beast of considerable power.
His sharp, gleaming eyes surveyed the empty surroundings while his ears twitched constantly, alert to every sound.
For a being who could fully manifest his true form, extending his senses across the entire Cheonwolru and even the city of Luoyang was an easy task.
As he endured the flood of incoming information, the fox bared his fangs.
The Sangun — what kind of being was she?
Among the spirit beasts who had existed for more than a thousand years, she was a spirit among spirits — and a tiger at that.
Tigers were rare among spirit beasts, and the reason was simple.
Ascension — the act of becoming a celestial being — was the goal and dream of every spirit.
But tigers did not particularly desire to become spirit beasts.
Even in their natural state, they were strong and revered by humans as mountain lords — powerful and commanding creatures.
A single tiger could claim an entire mountain, sometimes an entire mountain range, as its territory.
They would fight or drive away any rivals within their domain and reign as the undisputed king of the region.
Because of this, tigers lived satisfied lives — they mated, ruled, and when the time came, they died in peace.
In that sense, the Sangun before him was an exceptional being.
A beautiful tiger whose blue fur gleamed like the depths of a serene lake, her body filled with boundless internal energy.
Despite being a top predator whose instinct was to kill, she ate nothing but herbs and water.
Though she had the power to hunt other spirit beasts, she never coveted their inner cores (naedan).
She simply roamed the mountains in silence, devoting herself to cultivation.
Yet she was also compassionate — always willing to lend her aid when other spirit beasts sought help.
The fox had owed his life to her more than once.
And never once had the Sangun asked for anything in return.
That was why, when she first spoke of the dark future she had foreseen, he had refused to accompany her.
If the humans called the Blood Sect (Hyeolgyo) were truly so dangerous, he thought it best to abandon his human disguise and eliminate them outright.
He believed he could easily uproot the source of the trouble in place of the weakened and youthful Sangun.
After all, the idea that humans had merely used her and led her to death was outrageous — infuriating even.
‘How dare mere humans…!’
But in the end, he couldn’t do it.
The weakened Sangun used every ounce of her remaining strength to stop him — as if she truly believed the fox alone could not destroy the Blood Sect.
Remembering that moment, the fox clenched his teeth, suppressing the surge of anger in his chest.
There had been a time when he had thought no spirit beast was stronger than him — until he met the Sangun.
After being hunted by martial artists and saved by her multiple times, the fox had changed.
He had cast aside his arrogance, hidden among humans, and learned their knowledge and wisdom.
Becoming as strong as Sangun might take centuries, but human knowledge — the very thing that had once endangered him — was worth studying.
If he learned it well, he might someday be able to help her.
Humans coveted the naedan of spirit beasts.
One day, they would surely reveal their greed toward Sangun too.
When that time came, he would protect her — and perhaps repay a fraction of his debt.
…He just hadn’t expected that opportunity to come so soon — and in such a way.
Though Sangun had half-threatened him into it, the fox genuinely worried for her safety.
So instead of charging headlong into the Blood Sect, he decided to assist her recovery and wait for the right moment.
Just because he stayed by her side didn’t mean he lacked ways to deal with the Blood Sect.
‘There’s no suspicious movement in the martial world yet.’
He was grateful that his current human identity was the leader of Hao Sect.
Thanks to that, nearly all information about the martial world eventually reached his ears.
But the Blood Sect… that was something he had never heard of — not once in almost five years as Hao Sect’s leader.
At first, he thought Sangun was joking.
But Sangun was not the type to joke.
And the faint energy emanating from her naedan had been so weak it was barely keeping her from falling into ruin.
Each time she spoke of the Blood Sect, her voice trembled with rage and hatred.
And beneath it all… there had been fear.
The fox remembered those trembling eyes — filled with disbelief, as if afraid that the friends before her might vanish at any moment.
She hadn’t feared what had happened to her.
She had feared that they — her companions — might not be real.
‘I’ve sent people to investigate, but there’s nothing about the Blood Sect. If what she said is true, they’re not just an outcast sect — they’d be declared enemies of all martial artists…’
The fox decided to proceed with caution.
Information was power.
And if Sangun’s words were true, the Blood Sect was not an opponent to underestimate.
They were likely hiding, quietly building strength.
Even if they were found, their defenses would be formidable.
Humans in small, tight-knit groups were always cautious, organized, and mistrustful of outsiders.
If carelessly provoked, they wouldn’t collapse — they would simply burrow deeper underground.
If Sangun had been at full strength, a direct assault might have worked.
But as things stood, the fox chose instead to gather more herbs and elixirs.
They had known each other for centuries.
Once Sangun regained her strength, she would surely tell him more about the Blood Sect.
For now, her recovery mattered more than anything else.
When her body and spirit were ready, it wouldn’t be too late to act.
Until then, all he could do was help her heal — and prepare for the time to come.
The eyes of the eight-hundred-year-old black nine-tailed fox gleamed fiercely.
It was encouraging — the energy within her naedan, which had nearly been depleted, had recovered to about ten percent of its original strength.
Thanks to that, she could now gather energy much faster than she had in Sehwa’s office.
Satisfied with her progress, she opened her eyes — and was startled.
[What the—? You went back to your true form?]
Stretching lazily at the entrance, the fox waved his nine tails and replied leisurely.
[No one’s around, so I figured I’d relax in my real body for once.]
He flicked an ear playfully.
[By the way, I’ve always wondered — doesn’t maintaining your human disguise for so long tire you out?]
When I teased him slightly, the fox scratched his ear with his tail as if saying, enough nagging.
[Anyway, since we’re here, can I get some practice in before we leave?]
[Practice? What kind of practice?]
[Transformation arts. It’s a useful trick, isn’t it? Being able to change appearances freely among humans.]
[Well… it is useful, but it’s not easy.]
The fox shook his head.
[Changing your appearance while avoiding anything that feels unnatural to humans actually takes a lot of effort.]
[What?! You make it look so easy—I thought it was simple!]
[Even humans spend a lot of effort disguising themselves. Spirit beasts even more so. Humans sometimes make fake human faces — in-pi-myeon-gu — to pretend to be someone else.]
[What’s that?]
[They shape masks from pigskin and other materials to alter their appearance.
And the more deranged ones… peel the faces off freshly dead corpses to make them.]
[Disgusting. They’d do that to their own kind?]
[The very act of trying so hard to hide already shows they have something to hide. Those kinds of people always do worse things.]
I drooped my ears in disappointment.
If even the fox — a master of transformation — said that, there was no point in trying.
Foxes were naturally good at trickery, but tigers weren’t.
Even if I trained, turning into a human was probably my limit.
Changing into different humans? Impossible.
‘It would’ve been useful for infiltrating the Blood Sect…’
Humans were easily fooled by appearances and rarely saw the truth.
It would’ve been a handy skill to have.
I let go of the thought and looked toward the fox, who had already returned to his human form.
[Hey, fox. I’ve never actually seen your human face. I can sense your energy, sure, but I’m curious — show me what you look like.]
“Oh, right. I never showed you, did I?”
The fox nodded, then reached up and removed his mask.
The face that appeared beneath it…
Even through the mask, I could tell he had a sharp jawline, but his features were, unsurprisingly, foxlike.
His porcelain-white skin was flawless, his tall nose and thin red lips were subtly captivating.
His slightly upturned, smiling eyes sparkled mischievously, brimming with a lively energy that felt distinctly non-human.
Every detail was harmonious — so much so that it was almost enchanting.
