Chapter 26: Quiet Night

By the time the moon had moved to the western sky, Bai Heng had finished her cultivation for the night.

A patch of clear moonlight spilled across the entrance of the rock cave, spreading over the dry leaves like frost.

She let out a slow breath and did not continue.

Cultivation required a balance of tension and relaxation; going too far was just as bad as not going far enough. 

Yun Qing had mentioned this principle before, and so had Mu Xuejun.

Bai Heng lay down, gazing at the moonlight outside the cave. 

The moon’s glow crested the mountain ridge, coating the nearby and distant forests with a silver edge. 

Down in the village, nearly all the lights had gone out, with only a few scattered points remaining—probably households where someone had gotten up during the night and lit an oil lamp.

She slowly withdrew her divine sense, no longer probing the outside world, and simply lay there quietly.

When she had moved into this rock cave earlier that day, she had placed Mu Xuejun’s bone fragment deep inside the crevice. 

The fourth-tier great demon aura emanating from it was enough to intimidate ordinary mountain spirits and wild beasts, keeping them from approaching.

But thinking about it now, this kind of deterrence was not necessarily a good thing.

Bai Heng turned her head and looked toward the white bone fragment lying quietly deep within the crevice. 

Moonlight could not reach that far, leaving only a faint outline.

A fourth-tier aura could indeed make low-tier demon beasts and rogue cultivators retreat. 

However, if major powers like Qingxu Sect or the Feng Clan were truly scheming in the shadows, a mere fourth-tier presence would be completely insignificant to them.

Those sects and noble families had Golden Core cultivators in abundance, and even Nascent Soul old monsters were not unheard of. 

In their eyes, a fourth-tier demon aura was nothing more than a slightly larger wild beast.

It might even draw unwanted attention.

A fourth-tier great demon that had awakened its intelligence appearing near a village where a mortal boy was hidden—this in itself was the most glaring anomaly.

Bai Heng’s mind stirred. 

A strand of spiritual sense reached out, gently rolling up the bone fragment and drawing it into the knowledge sea between her brows.

The moment the bone fragment disappeared, the aura inside the rock cave abruptly returned to normal. 

Without the fourth-tier demon qi enveloping it, this place was now just an ordinary crevice in the mountain wall, no different from the countless other caves around it.

Any form of deterrence or disguise was perhaps inferior to returning to one’s natural state.

Pretending to be nothing more than an ordinary wild fox in the mountains was the most low-key approach.

Bai Heng’s Heavenly Fox Concealment was sufficient to evade the divine sense of Foundation Establishment cultivators. 

The Yu Ling Sect cultivators had not discovered her that day, and even the mysterious Lu Liang had only vaguely sensed her presence.

Therefore, even if there were Foundation Establishment scouts lurking nearby, as long as she did not expose herself, she should be fine.

After all, keeping watch over a mortal boy would hardly warrant a Golden Core expert personally acting as a spy.

Golden Core cultivators were already a backbone force in the Li Kingdom’s cultivation world. 

Yun Qing had cultivated for over four hundred years and had only reached mid-stage Golden Core. 

Such figures would not lower themselves to hide in a mortal village and secretly keep watch.

At least not openly.

Bai Heng sorted through her thoughts and felt slightly more at ease.

But then, another concern surfaced.

Earlier that night, she had also considered whether she should secretly take Yun Zhuo away. 

With her concealment abilities, sneaking into the village at night, knocking the boy unconscious, and fleeing thousands of li should not be difficult.

She had quickly dismissed the idea, however.

There were most likely hidden agents in the village.

Those disguised as ordinary villagers could be sent by Qingxu Sect, arranged by the Feng Clan, or serving as eyes and ears for Yun Qing’s so-called “personal disciples.” 

They usually fished and farmed like normal villagers, but the moment Yun Zhuo showed any unusual behavior, they would act immediately.

Bai Heng did not know where these people were hidden, how many there were, or what their cultivation levels were. 

Acting rashly would only alert the enemy.

What made her even more wary was the seal in Qin Yun’s sea of consciousness.

Sealing his memories might have been done to allow him to live peacefully as a mortal without drawing attention.

But could that seal have other purposes?

Such as tracking?

Or warning?

If the seal itself was some kind of marker, and the person who placed it could sense Yun Zhuo’s location through it—or even detect if someone tried to break or touch it—then the moment Bai Heng got too close, she might expose herself.

She had only probed it with her divine sense today, and the seal had shown no reaction. But if she tried to remove it or took Yun Zhuo out of a certain preset range, it might trigger something.

Bai Heng did not dare to gamble.

She could only continue observing.

Observe the boy’s daily movements, observe every action of everyone in the village, and look for any unusual signs.

This would require time and patience.

Fortunately, after three thousand years of tempering, patience was the one thing she did not lack.

Bai Heng rested her head on her front paws, half-closing her eyes as she gazed at the moonlight outside the cave.

The moon gradually sank further west.

In the distance came the cry of a night bird, long and lonely. 

The mountain wind blew past, causing the vines at the cave entrance to sway gently, casting shifting shadows on the ground.

Bai Heng quietly watched those moving shadows, her thoughts gradually emptying.

She recalled many years ago, when she was still trapped inside the amber. 

Back then, she had also spent day after day looking at the same stretch of mountain forest, the same sky, and the occasional small animals that passed by.

She had found it unbearable at the time.

Thinking about it now, those long years had perhaps been precisely to temper this patience.

When the sky in the east began to show the first light of dawn, Bai Heng finally fell into a proper sleep.

Not cultivation, but genuine sleep, allowing both her body and mind to completely relax. 

After all, this fox body still needed rest.

When sunlight reached into the rock cave, she woke up.

Outside the cave came the noisy chirping of birds, rising and falling in waves. 

From the village below came the faint sounds of roosters crowing and dogs barking, the sound of doors opening, and women calling their children to eat.

Bai Heng did not get up immediately. 

She remained lying at the cave entrance, looking down at the village through the gaps in the vines.

Cooking smoke rose in curls, slowly drifting away in the morning light.

Some people carried hoes to the fields, others carried baskets into the mountains, and children chased each other past the village entrance, startling a flock of sparrows that had been pecking at the ground.

What about the boy Qin Yun?

Bai Heng’s gaze quietly extended, slowly sweeping through the village.

A moment later, she spotted him under the old pagoda tree at the village entrance.

The boy was squatting on the ground, looking at something. 

Beside him stood another boy around the same age. 

The two of them were whispering to each other.

Bai Heng did not extend her divine sense too close, only observing from afar.

The boy looked no different from any other farm boy. 

His skin was slightly tanned by the sun, his short coat faded from many washes. 

His sleeves were casually rolled up, revealing slender but sturdy forearms.

He stood up, patted the dirt from his knees, and followed the other boy out of the village. 

Both carried small baskets and short hoes, looking like they were heading into the mountains to dig for wild vegetables or gather herbs.

Bai Heng’s gaze followed them until the two small figures disappeared into the forest at the end of the mountain path.

She did not move.

She simply continued lying at the cave entrance, quietly watching in that direction.

The sun gradually climbed higher.

The birds in the mountains grew tired of singing and fell silent one by one. 

Only the occasional long, drawn-out cry of a cicada could be heard, making one feel drowsy.

Bai Heng still did not move.

She remained lying there, like a stone that had been in that spot for thousands of years.