Chapter 27: The Village

After settling into the rock cave, Bai Heng did not spend all her daylight hours lying at the entrance.

Sometimes she would stroll slowly along the mountain ridge, behaving exactly like an ordinary wild fox. 

She maintained a faint layer of the Heavenly Fox Concealment to conceal her aura, but she did not deliberately hide her form.

The birds in the mountains would simply fly a little farther away when they saw her. 

Occasionally a wild rabbit would pass by, ears pricked up warily, but once it realized she was not chasing it, the rabbit would lower its head and continue grazing.

This was good.

She needed to familiarize herself with every corner of this mountain forest, and she also needed the villagers below to grow accustomed to her presence.

She observed by day and cultivated by night. The days passed slowly and peacefully.

Several days later, Bai Heng had gradually formed a general understanding of the situation in Qingxi Village.

The village was not large, with roughly a hundred households. 

The houses were built along the mountain slope, scattered in a picturesque disorder. 

A clear stream flowed in front of the village, so transparent that the bottom was visible—most likely the origin of the village’s name.

The villagers lived by farming and hunting, rising with the sun and resting at sunset. 

Occasionally a peddler would come through with shoulder poles, selling needles, thread, and salt while buying mountain goods and pelts.

Life was as placid as the mountain stream, day after day without ripples.

Yet Bai Heng knew that beneath this calm, quite a few things lay hidden.

She tried to rely mostly on her eyesight, supplemented by the Heavenly Fox True Pupil. 

When activated, the technique caused a faint golden light to flicker in her eyes, allowing her to see extremely far and with crystal clarity—far more discreet than using divine sense.

From one or two li away, the entire village appeared in sharp detail.

She could clearly see which villager was splitting firewood in his courtyard, which woman was washing clothes by the stream, and which child was chasing chickens and ducks across the drying yard.

She used divine sense and spiritual sense very sparingly.

On the rare occasions she did, she kept it extremely restrained, like the lightest touch of a tendril—sweeping past and withdrawing at once. 

She worried that high-level cultivators she could not detect might be hiding nearby. 

If a Golden Core old monster was personally lying in wait, probing with divine sense would be no different from announcing her presence.

Fortunately, over these past few days she had not sensed any Golden Core auras.

She had, however, noticed several interesting individuals.

In a low house at the eastern end of the village lived a man in his thirties who called himself Zhou. 

He claimed to have fled famine two years earlier, rented a room, and now helped the villagers with odd jobs.

He worked diligently and never refused to chop wood or fetch water. 

Yet Bai Heng had observed him several times and noticed that he would occasionally glance toward Qin Yun’s house, his gaze lingering a little too long.

It did not look like casual curiosity. It looked more like… confirmation.

In a small courtyard near the stream on the western side lived a woman in her forties. 

She said her husband had died, she had no children, and she had come to this remote mountain village to seek distant relatives. 

When she found they were long gone, she had simply stayed, supporting herself by doing laundry and mending for others.

She appeared no different from any ordinary village woman, with thick calluses on her hands from needlework. 

But once Bai Heng had watched her bend down to pick up firewood; her movements had been far too crisp and efficient, lacking the slight stiffness one would expect from a farm woman of her age.

Then there was the miscellaneous goods stall at the village entrance, run by a man surnamed Liu who claimed to have moved from town in search of the village’s quiet life. 

His wares were modest, yet he always had fresh pastries and sweets. 

The village children loved flocking to him.

Qin Yun would stop by occasionally to buy needles, thread, or salt, or to bring a piece of candy back for his little sister Qin Yu.

Every time Liu the peddler saw Qin Yun, he would chat a little longer—asking what the boy had hunted in the mountains, how Uncle Qin Shi’s health was, and whether the girl Qin Yu was behaving herself.

The questions sounded natural. 

The answers came easily. 

Yet to Bai Heng, those repeated, routine inquiries carried a fixed note of concern.

As if confirming that the boy remained unchanged.

All three of these people had moved to the village within the past two years.

Bai Heng had quietly probed them with her spiritual sense—very lightly, very faintly, a single passing sweep.

The man surnamed Zhou had spiritual power circulating in his body; he was at the sixth or seventh layer of Qi Condensation. 

The village woman was also Qi Condensation, though slightly lower, around the fourth or fifth layer. 

Liu the peddler had the highest cultivation, roughly the eighth or ninth layer of Qi Condensation, with solid spiritual power that suggested he was a rogue cultivator with some foundation.

None of them had noticed her probe.

With Bai Heng’s current concealment skills, cultivators below Foundation Establishment would find it extremely difficult to detect her spiritual sense. 

These three were all Qi Condensation and none had reached Foundation Establishment, so they naturally sensed nothing.

Even so, Bai Heng did not let down her guard.

These Qi Condensation spies were most likely sent by rogue cultivators or insignificant sects. 

What truly concerned her were people from Qingxu Sect or the Feng Clan.

If those major sects or noble families were truly monitoring Yun Zhuo, they would never send someone of this level.

They would either send no one at all, or the people they sent would possess exceptional concealment methods that could not be easily detected.

Bai Heng turned her gaze toward several other households in the village.

Those families had also moved in within the past year or two.

In a solitary courtyard near the foot of the mountain on the northern side lived a young scholar surnamed Chen. 

He claimed to have come to the mountains to study for the imperial examinations and rarely left his yard, though he could occasionally be seen pacing with a book in hand.

Bai Heng had observed him several times and detected no trace of a cultivator. 

His gait was somewhat frail, and he would pant after moving a bundle of firewood—he hardly seemed like someone in disguise.

Yet the more ordinary he appeared, the more attention Bai Heng paid him.

In a slightly larger house on the southern side lived a widow surnamed Wang with her seven- or eight-year-old son. 

She said her husband had died years ago while doing business, leaving her some savings, and she had come to this mountain village for a quiet life. 

She did not interact much with the other villagers, but during festivals she would send food to her neighbors.

Bai Heng had also found no spiritual power fluctuations on her.

And then there was the small courtyard beside the old pagoda tree, where an eighteen-year-old girl named Lin Lan lived.

The girl was rather well-known in the village. She was fair-skinned and pretty, the “village flower” that the young men whispered about in private. 

Bai Heng had heard bits of her background from the village women’s gossip.

She was said to be the daughter of a criminal official from the Li Kingdom court, originally destined for the teaching institute. 

But her father had once done a favor for a wandering hero, and that hero, remembering the old kindness, had risked his life to rescue her and brought her to this remote mountain village two years ago for safety.

She was staying with an elderly widow named Wu, helping with household chores in exchange for food.

Old Widow Wu was mute and hard of hearing, relying on village charity to survive. 

After Lin Lan arrived, she had cleaned up the rundown little courtyard, and the old woman’s life had improved considerably.

Bai Heng had taken notice of Lin Lan because the girl was always running over to Qin Yun’s house.

Every time Qin Yun returned from hunting in the mountains, she would be waiting at the village entrance ahead of time. 

The moment she spotted the boy’s figure in the distance, she would hurry forward with a bowl of water or a handkerchief.

“Brother Yun, you must be tired. Here, drink some water.”

“Brother Yun, what did you catch today?”

“Brother Yun, my granny pickled some vegetables. I brought some for you—try them.”

She called him with warm familiarity, and Qin Yun had grown used to it. 

He would accept the water and drink, take the pickled vegetables and taste them, and the two would chat and laugh as they walked into the village together.

Sometimes Qin Yun brought his little sister Qin Yu along. 

The girl would run happily to Lin Lan, calling “Sister Lin! Sister Lin!”

Watching this scene from the mountain, Bai Heng harbored a few suspicions.

Could this girl also be a spy?

Yet she had probed Lin Lan with her spiritual sense several times and found no trace of spiritual power. 

The girl’s footsteps were natural, without the lightness of a martial artist or the unconscious restraint of a cultivator.

She was simply an ordinary girl.

Still, Bai Heng was not entirely reassured.

If she truly had been sent by a major sect, her concealment methods would be sophisticated—hardly something that could be seen through so easily.

She could only continue observing.

The days passed one by one, and Bai Heng gradually grew accustomed to this way of life.

During the day she wandered freely through the mountain forest, acting like an ordinary wild fox. 

Sometimes she basked in the sun on a hillside, sometimes she drank from the stream, and sometimes she clumsily chased after butterflies in a way that would have looked ridiculous to anyone watching.

The villagers below occasionally caught sight of her, but they only glanced from afar and paid no mind. 

Foxes in the mountains were common enough; a white one was a bit unusual, but not unheard of.

Qin Yun encountered her several more times while hunting in the mountains.

The first time was beside a patch of bushes. 

Bai Heng had been sniffing at something when she heard footsteps. 

She lifted her head and met the boy’s gaze directly.

Qin Yun clearly froze for a moment, then a spark of delight flashed in his eyes.

“It’s you!”

He blurted the words, his face lighting up with surprise.

Bai Heng did not respond. She simply stared at him for a moment, then—

turned and ran.

She fled at full speed without looking back, vanishing into the dense forest in just a few leaps.

Qin Yun stood there stunned. It took him a while to recover. He scratched his head, muttered something to himself, and continued on his way.

The second time was beside a mountain stream. Bai Heng had been drinking when she heard approaching footsteps. 

She raised her head, ears alert, and upon seeing it was Qin Yun she backed up a couple of steps, let out a low warning growl, then twisted around and darted into the nearby bushes.

The third time was in a pine grove. 

Bai Heng had been squatting under a tree gnawing on some wild fruit. 

Qin Yun spotted her from afar and approached quietly. 

The moment he came within ten zhang, Bai Heng sensed him, dropped the half-eaten fruit, and disappeared in a flash.

After several such encounters, whenever Qin Yun saw her again he would only glance from a distance and no longer try to approach.

Once, when he brought his little sister Qin Yu into the mountains to pick mushrooms, they spotted Bai Heng squatting on a rock in the distance. 

Qin Yu tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “Brother, there’s a white fox! It’s so pretty!”

Qin Yun glanced over and replied casually, “Yeah, there’s a white fox in these mountains. She’s really timid—runs the second she sees people.”

He paused, then added, “Don’t go over there. You’ll scare her.”

Qin Yu nodded obediently and watched the white fox from afar, her eyes full of fondness.

Bai Heng remained on the rock, facing the mountain breeze, and narrowed her eyes slightly.

She had heard the siblings’ conversation.

It seemed the boy no longer connected her with the “talking fox immortal.” 

In his mind, that morning encounter had probably become nothing more than a half-remembered dream.

This was good.

Bai Heng watched the brother and sister’s figures gradually recede until they disappeared at the end of the forest path.

Sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves, casting a faint golden edge across her snow-white fur.

She remained squatting on the rock, completely still.