Chapter Fifteen: Farewell

The nine-tailed fox carried me swiftly through the night, the scenery flashing past in a blur. It wasn’t until dawn began to break that it finally stopped beside a small stream and set me gently down.

With a shake, the nine-tailed fox transformed into a human form. Just as I had guessed, the fox was none other than Lin Weiyan. But at this moment, she looked pale and frail, her strength all but spent. She seemed about to say something to me, but before a word could escape her lips, she collapsed unconscious.

I hurried to catch her, lowering her gently onto the grass. “Hey… wake up… Lin Weiyan…” I called her name several times, but she gave no response. Still, I could be certain she was alive.

So I sat quietly by her side, waiting for her to wake. Glancing down, I noticed the blood still smeared on my hands—a reminder of that uncontrollable moment when I had devoured the heart of that shadowy figure. My stomach churned and I retched violently, but nothing would come up.

I walked to the stream, washed my hands, rinsed my mouth, and drank some of the cool water. To my surprise, the water was sweet and refreshing. An idea struck me, and I found a clean enough leaf, scooped some water, and tried to feed it to Lin Weiyan. But the water wouldn’t pass her lips, so I could only give up.

About an hour passed before her eyelids flickered. “Wake up…” I called softly. Finally, Lin Weiyan opened her eyes.

I helped her sit up on the grass and asked, “Would you like some water?” She nodded, so I hurried to fetch some from the stream. After she drank, she slowly let her head rest on my shoulder.

Her gesture left me frozen in place. Never in my life had a woman leaned on my shoulder before. And she was an extraordinary beauty—even knowing she was a nine-tailed fox demon, I couldn’t help my heart from pounding wildly, as if a thousand deer were dashing through my chest.

I lost all sense of time as I sat there, not daring to move, afraid of waking her.

Lin Weiyan fell asleep on my shoulder, and I thought she must truly be exhausted. I sat still, watching her as she slept. She looked so lovely as she slumbered, a sweet smile on her lips, her breathing soft and rhythmic.

My shoulder grew sore, but she did not stir. The sun rose, blazing in the east, painting the sky with dawn’s rosy light, while birds chirped cheerfully. The forest was peaceful, like a paradise untouched by the world, making the terrors of the previous night feel like a distant dream, worlds away from this morning’s serenity.

In the distance, I saw Feng Zimo approaching, carrying Old Stubborn Donkey on his back.

“Wake up…” I gently called to Lin Weiyan, still asleep on my shoulder. After a long while, she finally awoke.

By then, Feng Zimo had arrived and carefully set Old Stubborn Donkey down on the grass. Looking at his withered, ashen face, I asked, “How is Elder Jiang now?”

Feng Zimo shook his head helplessly. “I’m afraid he hasn’t much time left.”

“How could this happen?” I demanded.

Lin Weiyan, her voice weak, explained, “Elder Jiang burned his own lifespan to unleash the Heaven-Scorching Art—he sacrificed his remaining years. His end is near.”

Hearing this, I felt a deep sorrow. Though Old Stubborn Donkey had once tried to kill me, now he was dying to protect me.

I rushed to his side, shaking his body, calling out, “Old Stubborn Donkey, you can’t die! Wake up… wake up!”

“You little brat, I’m not dead yet. If you keep shaking me, you’ll finish the job,” Old Stubborn Donkey croaked, his voice hoarse and no longer steady.

Even so, my heart ached, for I knew his time was short. My throat tightened, and I struggled to speak.

Though I hadn’t known Elder Jiang long, and his temper was odd and he’d often targeted me, I couldn’t help but feel wretched at the thought of losing someone who had shown me such kindness. Perhaps it was just my nature—I cannot bear to lose those who care for me.

“It’s good you’re alive. I’m still waiting for you to take me to your master,” I said.

Elder Jiang smiled faintly and asked me to bring Lin Weiyan over; he had words for her.

I did as he asked and called her to his side. Then Feng Zimo and I walked to the stream. Watching the gentle flow of water, I asked, “Is there really no hope for Elder Jiang?”

Feng Zimo shook his head silently.

“Can you tell me anything about the Crimson-Eyed Demon Pupil?” I pressed.

“I promised Elder Jiang I wouldn’t tell you. I’m sorry,” Feng Zimo replied.

“I see,” I said, resigned.

Feng Zimo added, “No need to worry. You’ll know soon enough. There’s something I’ve always wondered—how did you obtain the Crimson-Eyed Demon Pupil?”

I thought for a moment before replying, “I can’t tell you that yet.”

Feng Zimo gave a wry smile. “Alright, if you don’t want to say, I won’t force you.”

At that moment, Lin Weiyan’s voice called to me—it seemed Elder Jiang needed me. My heart filled with dread. I hurried over, hearing his voice, now barely more than a whisper.

“Brat, I entrust Yan’er to you. Promise you’ll look after her. She may be a fox demon, but she’s never committed any monstrous deeds.”

I nodded, assuring him.

Elder Jiang then drew from his robe a bronze mirror and a tattered notebook. “This is the Mirror of Heaven and Earth. Yan’er will teach you how to use it. And this notebook—keep it safe. It holds the record of my life’s experiences for your reference. It also lists those who owe me money, and a few to whom I owe debts—repay those for me. Whatever’s left is yours. Remember this! Remember!”

With those words, Elder Jiang passed away.

His death taught me a bitter truth: life comes only once. When it ends, there is no return.

I found a quiet place to bury his body. Lin Weiyan, having followed Elder Jiang for so many years, was grief-stricken. She stood silently by his grave for a long time before finally turning away.

As we were leaving, I bowed deeply before Elder Jiang’s grave and said, “I will keep my promise. May you rest well on your final journey.”