Bai Heng froze inside the cave for quite a while.
Her ears remained alert and pricked up, while her tail slowly drooped, gently sweeping behind her.
She took two steps forward, then stopped.
Under the faint light coming in from the cave entrance, she could see the man lying on his back.
His chest rose and fell only with extremely weak movements.
A large patch of snow beneath him was dyed red. The scent of blood emanated from there.
The daoist robe that was originally pale cyan was now almost completely dark red.
The torn areas revealed curled flesh, and in some places, even stark white bone could be seen.
Bai Heng slowly approached, her steps extremely light.
Only when she got closer could she clearly see the man’s appearance.
He was a man who appeared to be in his thirties, with refined and thin features.
His eyes were tightly shut, his face as pale as paper, and black-red blood clots had dried at the corners of his lips.
At the center of his brows was a faint crimson pattern shaped like a small cluster of flickering flames.
At this moment, however, the flame was extremely dim, almost on the verge of extinguishing.
Bai Heng lowered her head and sniffed.
Mixed within the bloody smell was an extremely faint, indescribable scorched scent—like something burned by thunderfire, or the lingering trace left after being eroded by some cold, sinister force.
These injuries… were not ordinary.
She could have simply turned around and left.
The mountain forest was vast; finding another shelter wouldn’t be difficult. She could endure hunger without dying.
But…
Bai Heng recalled the sight of Little White collapsing in the snow.
She remembered the two little foxes circling their mother’s corpse in panic before eventually freezing solid themselves.
She remembered that merciless streak of red light descending from the sky, crushing everything without mercy.
She stood silently for a moment.
Then, she walked up to the man and placed her front paw gently on his ice-cold wrist.
The tuft of white fur at the center of her brows grew faintly warm again, taking on a slight red tint.
A warm current flowed out following her will, slowly pouring into the man’s body.
This sensation was different from when she had moved the rock earlier.
It was gentler and more delicate, like spring creek water slowly soaking into a dried-up riverbed.
Bai Heng could “see”—or rather, sense—the condition inside the man’s body.
Multiple meridians were severed, his spiritual energy was depleted and chaotic, and his five organs and six viscera had varying degrees of damage.
The most troublesome issue was a clump of yin-cold black energy coiled near his heart meridian, constantly devouring what little life force remained.
Her power was too weak.
That tiny stream of warmth entered like a drop of water falling onto scorching sand—instantly absorbed, leaving only the faintest trace of moisture.
But she did not stop.
Again and again.
The weak warm current continued flowing steadily, carefully bypassing the fatal wounds, wrapping around the heart meridian and slightly isolating that clump of black energy.
The process consumed a great deal of energy.
Before long, Bai Heng felt her limbs go soft, her head grew dizzy, and her vision began to darken.
She had no choice but to stop and lie down nearby, panting.
Outside the cave, the wind and snow howled.
Inside the cave, the only sounds were the man’s nearly inaudible breathing and her own rapid heartbeat.
After resting for a while and regaining some strength, Bai Heng moved closer again and resumed the same process.
She didn’t know if it was actually helping.
Perhaps it was all in vain.
But she remembered the feeling she had when she crawled out from under the snow—the sensation of blood flowing again and her heart beating once more.
That tiny spark of life was such a precious thing.
This time, she tried focusing her will on the crimson pattern between the man’s brows.
The pattern seemed to sense something and flickered extremely weakly.
Immediately after, Bai Heng felt that the warm current she was sending over now carried something extra.
It was like the purest morning dew, carrying a clear, refreshing aura that washed away all impurities.
Wherever the warm current flowed, the corrupted flesh at the wounds seemed to be gently purified, and extremely fine new granulation tissue began to grow.
The black energy coiled around the heart meridian was also forced back a little—really just a little, an almost negligible amount.
But it was enough.
The man’s breathing seemed slightly steadier than before.
Bai Heng was utterly exhausted.
She lay down beside the man’s hand, resting her head on her front paws, eyes half-closed.
Her body was tired, but her heart felt a strange sense of calm.
This was something she had chosen to do of her own accord.
It wasn’t for survival, nor was it forced.
She simply… wanted to do it.
Over the next few days, aside from occasionally leaving the cave to dig up some frozen grass roots and berries beneath the snow to fill her stomach, Bai Heng spent most of her time inside, continuously channeling her meager life force into the man.
She discovered that the ability of the red pattern between her brows seemed to slowly strengthen with use.
At first, she could barely keep him clinging to life. By the third day, she was able to slightly promote the healing of surface wounds.
However, that clump of black energy was extremely stubborn.
No matter how hard she tried, she could only suppress it near the heart meridian and could not dispel it.
On the evening of the fourth day, the wind and snow temporarily eased.
A faint, pale ray of sunset light filtered into the cave, casting a dim yellow glow inside.
The man who had been unconscious all this time suddenly had his eyelashes tremble.
Bai Heng immediately raised her head alertly, her ears turning in that direction.
His eyes slowly opened.
At first they were blank and unfocused.
It took a long while before they gradually sharpened.
His gaze first landed on the cave ceiling, then moved extremely slowly, and finally settled on the white fox lying nearby.
Bai Heng did not move. She simply looked at him quietly.
The man looked at her.
His eyes first showed vigilance, then scrutiny, and finally, a very faint, almost relieved complex expression emerged.
He opened his mouth as if wanting to speak, but only managed to produce hoarse, wheezing sounds.
Bai Heng hesitated for a moment, then stood up and walked to a small puddle of water not far away—melted snow that had accumulated.
She brushed aside the thin layer of ice on the surface with her paw, carefully lapped a few mouthfuls, then walked back to the man’s side.
She looked at his cracked, bleeding lips.
After thinking for a moment, she turned around, picked up a large withered leaf from the corner of the cave with her mouth, rolled it into a makeshift scoop shape, and used her will to control it.
She scooped up some water from the puddle and shakily brought it to the man’s lips.
The clear water moistened his lips, and a few drops slipped into his mouth.
The man’s Adam’s apple moved.
The look in his eyes grew gentler.
With extreme effort and only the slightest movement, he nodded.
This was a final burst of energy before death.
Still… it wasn’t enough?
The man rested for a moment, gathering a bit more strength, and spoke again.
His voice was hoarse and low, almost nothing more than breath, but at least audible.
“Thank you… fellow Daoist… for saving me.”
He called her fellow Daoist.
Bai Heng lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.
His eyes were very calm, even carrying a kind of knowing clarity, as if he had already accepted his fate.
“This poor Daoist… is Yun Qing, from Qingxu Sect.”
He spoke intermittently, pausing to catch his breath after every few words:
“Fellow Daoist… has awakened spiritual intelligence. Your behavior… is not that of an ordinary beast. Furthermore… you possess divine abilities, capable of… moving objects and healing wounds…”
His gaze paused for a moment on the tuft of fur between Bai Heng’s brows.
It had returned to snow-white, but upon closer inspection still looked slightly different.
“This poor Daoist… does not have much time left. There is one matter… after my death, an obsession in my heart that I cannot let go… I wonder if I could… shamelessly entrust it to fellow Daoist?”
Bai Heng did not respond immediately.
She simply looked at him. Her fox eyes were clear, reflecting the last light of the sky outside the cave.
Seeing her like this, Yun Qing did not press her. He simply waited quietly.
His eyes were sincere, yet held no sense of coercion—only deep exhaustion and a thread of hope.
After a long while, Bai Heng stood up and walked to a flat area near the cave entrance covered with a thin layer of dust.
She raised one front paw, holding it in the air as if thinking for a moment.
Then, she concentrated.
Her brow grew faintly warm.
The dust on the ground was drawn by an invisible force, slowly gathering and moving until it formed two somewhat crude but clearly recognizable characters—
Bai Heng.
Yun Qing’s eyes suddenly burst with brilliant light as he looked at the two characters.
The light was so bright it even dispelled the deathly pallor on his face.
“Good… good!”
He nodded repeatedly. Though his breathing was weak, his tone carried genuine delight.
“Bai Heng… fellow Daoist! Excellent!”
He looked at Bai Heng once more, his expression becoming extremely solemn.
“This poor Daoist Yun Qing is a Golden Core Elder of Qingxu Sect. I have cultivated… for four hundred and twenty-seven years, and am stuck at… the mid Golden Core stage.”
As he spoke, a bitter smile flickered at the corner of his mouth but quickly vanished.
“After realizing I had no hope of reaching Nascent Soul, I formed a cultivation partnership with my Dao companion… and we became husband and wife. She was also a cultivator of the sect, and we knew and accompanied each other… for a hundred years.”
“More than ten years after our marriage, we… had a son, named Yun Zhuo.”
When he mentioned his son, deep affection appeared in his eyes, only to be quickly drowned by immense pain.
“When Zhuo’er was one month old and had his spiritual roots tested, he possessed… a one-in-ten-thousand gold-element Heavenly Spiritual Root. The entire sect was shaken. Even the Grand Elder in seclusion, True Person Feng Xuan, personally came out of closed-door cultivation and took Zhuo’er away, saying he would accept him as a true disciple.”
“Although we were reluctant, we were also happy for him. We thought… Zhuo’er’s immortal path would now be smooth and unobstructed.”
Yun Qing’s voice began to tremble, his breathing grew rapid.
He coughed several times, and blood seeped from the corners of his mouth again.
“Who could have known… half a year later, True Person Feng Xuan… personally brought Zhuo’er back. He said… said there had been a mistake in the earlier test. Zhuo’er was not a Heavenly Spiritual Root, but… a five-element False Spiritual Root.”
“He even bestowed… a large amount of spirit stones and pills, claiming it was… compensation.”
Yun Qing closed his eyes. His chest heaved violently.
It took a long while before he continued with difficulty:
“How could we… not know? It was both a favor and a threat, meant to silence us!”
He suddenly opened his eyes, filled with bloodshot veins and hatred.
Yet more than anything, they showed helplessness.
“Zhuo’er’s spiritual root… must have been stolen using a secret technique… and transferred to True Person Feng Xuan’s great-grandson of the same age, Feng Changzhen!”
He gritted his teeth, every word forced out between them.
“We… knew. But knowing… what could we do?”
“True Person Feng Xuan himself… is an early-stage Nascent Soul powerhouse. Behind him stands the Feng family, one of the three great immortal cultivation clans of Li Kingdom!”
Yun Qing’s voice grew lower, filled with hoarse despair:
“The Feng family’s ancestor… is a late-stage Nascent Soul expert, a top figure on the Azure Origin Continent… We… are merely rogue cultivators with no background… What could we possibly use to fight them? To demand justice?”
The cave fell into silence.
Only Yun Qing’s heavy, painful breathing could be heard, along with the mournful whistling of the wind blowing through the mountain crevices outside.
Bai Heng listened quietly.
In her previous life she had read some cultivation novels and roughly understood what “Heavenly Spiritual Root” and “Nascent Soul” meant.
She could understand the deep sense of injustice, powerlessness, and grief.
This was a father who had watched his child’s talent stolen and future destroyed, yet was unable to even cry out in protest.
She walked over to Yun Qing’s side, lay down again, and gently pressed her fluffy body against his ice-cold hand.
Yun Qing felt that bit of warmth and turned his head to look at her.
The intense emotions in his eyes gradually calmed, leaving only endless exhaustion and a thread of hopeful entrustment.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something more.
Outside the cave, night had fully fallen. Cold wind carrying specks of snow blew into the entrance.
The light in Yun Qing’s eyes was slowly fading away.