C180 — Kill That Nine-Tailed Fox (16)

Xue Wenchun’s gaze swept over to the demon cultivator who was laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach.

“Funny?”

The demon cultivator quickly covered his mouth and shook his head, though the twitch at the corner of his eyes betrayed him.

Shen Jue, meanwhile, was a bit angry—his tail fur had gotten wet with ink.

When facing Fu Jiuyin, Shen Jue could treat him like a wild beast with its instincts intact.

But Xue Wenchun was different—he and his disciples had committed countless atrocities over the years.

If possible, Shen Jue would rather kill him sooner rather than later.

Xue Wenchun withdrew his gaze from the demon cultivator and carefully inspected the ransom letter he’d written.

Once satisfied, he folded it and placed it in an envelope, handing it to the demon cultivator beside him.

“Send this to that brat Xie Chen,” he ordered.

Then he grabbed Shen Jue and shoved him into the demon cultivator’s arms.

“And wash this rat clean—filthy thing.”

The demon cultivator took the letter in one hand and Shen Jue in the other, then left.

He found a washbasin, tossed a brush inside, and said,

“Know how to wash yourself?”

“Yes,” Shen Jue replied.

The demon cultivator nodded, pulled over a stool, and sat nearby watching.

Shen Jue: “…”

He could only ignore him.

Fortunately, the demon cultivator didn’t seem particularly interested in watching a squirrel wash its backside.

After a while, he pulled out a small booklet from his robe and began reading with great relish.

Halfway through, he even held it out for Shen Jue to see.

“Pretty, right? The Twelve Beauties of the World—all in here. Which do you think is the most beautiful?”

Then he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh wait—you probably don’t like looking at this. Do you squirrels even have beauty contests?”

Shen Jue: “…”

Shen Jue said, “No.”

The demon cultivator clicked his tongue three times.

“How pitiful.”

It took Shen Jue a long time to finally clean the fur on his backside and the tip of his tail.

The demon cultivator, seeing he was done, called another one to keep watch over him, then left.

Shen Jue was locked up again, left to think.

Fu Jiuyin wouldn’t come to save him even if he received the letter—so there were only two possible outcomes:

One, Xue Wenchun would believe his story and either let him go or make him sign a contract to stay in Dark Soul Sect.

Two, he would decide Shen Jue was useless and simply kill him.

After all, back when Xue Wenchun controlled the puppet Ma You, he had mentioned eating Shen Jue several times.

In any case, he couldn’t just sit and wait to die.

But ever since that first day, Shen Jue hadn’t seen Xue Wenchun again—only the demon cultivator who’d brought the brush and ink that day.

His name was Luo Yuecheng, and he’d served Xue Wenchun for many years.

It wasn’t until more than a month later that Shen Jue finally saw Xue Wenchun again.

That day, Xue Wenchun was wearing a wide-sleeved silver-white robe, the color almost blending into his skin.

Seated in the place of honor, his long hair cascaded like a waterfall, and his lips were the color of blood.

When he saw Shen Jue, his eyes shifted slightly, and he extended his hand.

Luo Yuecheng immediately placed the snowfield squirrel into his palm and flattered him,

“Elder, I’ve supervised it bathing every day—there’s not a single flea on it, it smells nice and fresh.”

At that, Xue Wenchun shot him a faint glance, then pinched Shen Jue’s ear between two fingers.

“This scent—I don’t like it. Change it next time.”

“Yes,” Luo Yuecheng said.

Shen Jue’s ear hurt under Xue Wenchun’s rough grip.

Unlike Fu Jiuyin—who, as a beast, understood exactly how much pressure his ears could take—Xue Wenchun was far less careful.

It didn’t take long before the inside of Shen Jue’s ear was flushed red, almost ready to bleed.

But Shen Jue didn’t cry out—he knew Xue Wenchun hated hearing people complain of pain.

If he did, the man would only squeeze harder.

Sure enough, after he endured the pain for a while, Xue Wenchun seemed to lose interest and let go of Shen Jue’s ear—only to reach for his tail instead.

He stroked it for a moment, then said softly, “I wonder what a fox’s tail feels like? I really want to touch one.”

Shen Jue had touched one before, and even slept on one many times. Aside from the fur, there wasn’t anything particularly special about it.

Xue Wenchun finally withdrew his hand and set Shen Jue on the table. His gaze dropped slightly, meeting Shen Jue’s eyes. “You’ve managed to live beside the nine-tailed fox for so long—surely you know something about him?”

Shen Jue looked at him, thought for a moment, and then nodded.

Xue Wenchun’s eyes shifted slightly; his lashes didn’t move, and his red lips parted. “Then take me to him.”

…

It turned out that after the ransom letter was sent, it sank without a trace. After confirming it had reached Xie Chen, Xue Wenchun waited more than twenty days without Fu Jiuyin showing up. He became certain that Shen Jue truly wasn’t valued by him.

Still, Shen Jue was the only one who had lived closely with Fu Jiuyin in the forbidden grounds. Even if he was nothing more than “stored rations,” he still knew more about Fu Jiuyin than most. So Xue Wenchun decided to seek out Fu Jiuyin—and brought Shen Jue along.

This time, Xue Wenchun did not bring anyone else from Dark Soul Sect. Only Shen Jue accompanied him. The Binding Immortal Rope was once again tied around Shen Jue’s neck, though it now had a new master. If Shen Jue so much as thought of running, it would bind him up tight before he got far.

Xue Wenchun was powerful—far beyond what Xie Chen could handle at present. Having lived for centuries, his very name was enough to make cultivators from other sects’ hearts tremble, let alone those of Dark soul Sect.

Shen Jue could not kill Xue Wenchun now, so he could only hide his killing intent and focus on being an ordinary squirrel at his side.

…

Xue Wenchun made no attempt to disguise himself during the trip. He didn’t even use a flying sword to find Fu Jiuyin—instead, he rented a flying ship, and only booked a single room.

His striking features drew attention, but people also recognized that he was not someone of good nature, so no one dared to approach him—or even look at him for long.

Xue Wenchun usually stayed inside, except at midday, when he liked to leave the room, holding a black umbrella as he stood at the bow of the ship. His long hair cascaded to his ankles, his face pale as snow, eyes gazing into the distance at something unknown. Shen Jue crouched at his feet, unable to understand this habit, but not curious enough to ask—he simply crouched quietly.

Luckily, the weather had cooled; otherwise, the noon sun on the wooden deck would have been enough to scorch his squirrel backside.

Xue Wenchun would stand there for half an hour before turning back inside.

Shen Jue didn’t know their destination, only that as time passed, the weather worsened. When they left Darl soul Sect, it had still been early autumn—now snow was falling thick and fast. The crew donned cotton coats, but Xue Wenchun, with his high cultivation, felt no chill, and kept on wearing a thin brocade robe.

The flying ship finally stopped at a small, quiet town. Xue Wenchun didn’t seem in a hurry to find anyone; instead, he found an inn and took a room.

…

Wind and snow filled the skies, dark clouds pressing low over the town. Xue Wenchun sat by the window, drinking tea that had long since gone cold. Shen Jue had been forced to change into his winter coat early—his reddish summer fur had grown long, dense and white, though the fur on his ears remained reddish-brown, just much longer than in summer.

Even after growing his winter coat, Shen Jue still felt the cold and couldn’t help curling up in the bedding, tucking his face into his thick tail.

The winters in the forbidden land had never been this harsh, and back there he could at least rely on Fu Jiuyin for warmth. Here, he could only hide under the covers by himself — only to be driven out of bed at night.

Xue Wenchun didn’t allow Shen Jue to sleep on the bed at night.

The nights were even colder, and when Shen Jue couldn’t find a place to sleep, he would curl up on Xue Wenchun’s discarded clothes. Xue Wenchun changed his clothes often, but every garment carried the scent of medicinal herbs, just like the scent Shen Jue had smelled on Ma You before.

Xue Wenchun no longer ate food, but Shen Jue — a little demon of only sixty-some years — still did. The inn’s waiter brought meals every day. The weather was so harsh that there were no fruits at all. Shen Jue didn’t like eating meat, so he would cling to a steamed bun almost as big as himself and gnaw away at it.

Here, the steamed buns were especially large.

He had once stored a good amount of fruit in his storage ring, but the people of Dark soul Sect had taken it, and he had no idea where it was now.

That day, the waiter didn’t bring steamed buns but noodles. Eating noodles was troublesome, and Shen Jue thought about transforming into human form — but Xue Wenchun was right there.

He crouched beside the bowl of noodles, hesitating. Xue Wenchun seemed to notice, withdrawing his gaze from the window and looking at Shen Jue coldly. After a while, he said,

“Aren’t you able to take human form?”

Shen Jue paused, then jumped down from the table and transformed. Clearly, this transformation was another failure — a long tail still hung behind him, and because of the winter coat, it looked even fluffier than in summer. More awkward still, his clothes hadn’t appeared.

Just as Shen Jue was about to try again, a piece of clothing fell from above, draping over his head.

It was Xue Wenchun’s outer robe.

Shen Jue silently pulled it on, then sat on a stool to eat the noodles. Xue Wenchun turned his gaze away, looking at the swirling snow outside. His palm moved slightly, and the wind and snow suddenly ceased.

Shen Jue noticed the abrupt stop in the wind and turned his head. When he realized Xue Wenchun had stopped the snowfall, his pupils contracted slightly.

He didn’t know whether Xue Wenchun had merely paused the snow around the inn, but to be able to control wind and snow at all meant this man’s cultivation was formidable. In his past lives, when he had been ordered to assassinate Xue Wenchun, he had been discovered before making a move, never learning the man’s true strength.

Now it seemed… killing Xue Wenchun would be extremely difficult.

In a fleeting moment, countless thoughts flashed through Shen Jue’s mind. At first, he had wanted to kill Xue Wenchun to protect himself, but now that path was far too hard.

Xue Wenchun’s goal was Fu Jiuyin, so he would definitely kill Xie Chen. Whether successful or not, it would enrage Fu Jiuyin.

Shen Jue’s eyes shifted slightly — rather than racking his brain to kill Xue Wenchun, it would be better to secretly give him the chance to kill Xie Chen. Even if he failed, it would thoroughly provoke Fu Jiuyin into acting personally.

…

Xue Wenchun only paused the snowfall for a short while before lowering his hand again.

When the inn’s waiter came to clear the dishes, Shen Jue had already returned to his original form and climbed back into bed to escape the cold.

Before clearing the bowls, the waiter handed Xue Wenchun something.

“Sir, here’s the map you requested. If you plan to go to the Xuanhan Lands, it’s better to wait a few days. The snowstorm has been too heavy lately — you probably won’t be able to cross the river.”

When Shen Jue heard the waiter’s words, his ears couldn’t help but twitch.

So they were going to the Xuanhan Lands.

The Xuanhan Lands were the coldest place on this continent, a place ordinary people wouldn’t dare to visit. But rumors said rare beasts and treasures could be found there.

Xue Wenchun took the map, handed the waiter a few pieces of gold, and said nothing else.

The next morning, he checked out of the inn.

The snow hadn’t stopped. Xue Wenchun walked under an open umbrella, but if one looked closely, they would see his feet never touched the snow — he was walking just above it. As a result, his boots remained perfectly dry, while Shen Jue’s squirrel fur was soaked from the snow.

Although Shen Jue was a snow squirrel, he had grown up in the Forbidden Land in the south. Winters there sometimes brought snow, but it only lasted a few days. Here, however, the snow seemed endless.

And that morning, he had woken up to find himself under some kind of spell, unable to use magic — not even to set up a small wind-and-snow barrier.

His fur was getting wetter and wetter, and the cold was unbearable. Xue Wenchun ahead of him didn’t slow down once. Shen Jue didn’t know how much farther they had to go, but if they reached the Xuanhan Lands in this state, he feared he’d die before they even arrived.

Gritting his teeth, Shen Jue sped up and darted ahead, grabbing onto Xue Wenchun’s trouser leg and climbing up. He had barely reached mid-calf before being caught.

“What are you doing?”

Xue Wenchun grabbed Shen Jue’s tail. Without a protective barrier, snow occasionally landed on his long lashes, but since his eyelashes were pure white, the snow was barely noticeable.

Shen Jue hugged himself with his little paws. Having spent some time with Xue Wenchun, he knew this man responded better to softness than defiance, so he had no choice but to play the pitiful card.

“I’m too cold, and my fur is all wet.”

Hearing this, Xue Wenchun finally gave him a proper look. Something about him seemed a little different from usual.

He cast a cleansing spell to dry Shen Jue’s fur, then tucked the snow squirrel into his own arms.

 

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