The white fox gained its freedom, leapt to the ground, and after a few bounds, came to a stop about ten meters away from Ye Zhishu, its green eyes fixed on her.
“What exactly do you want? Kill me if you want, cut me to pieces—do as you wish.”
Its face flushed bright red, though mostly hidden by its white fur.
“Want to die? Fine, I can grant you that too.”
Ye Zhishu raised an eyebrow and lifted her hand.
“No! Wait…”
The white fox gritted its teeth and knelt with a thud. A true man knows when to yield; today’s humiliation, it vowed, it would repay one day.
“Master, please spare my life! I don’t want to die; I want to live.”
“And your principles?”
Seeing it kneel so expertly, as if it had done this many times before, Ye Zhishu couldn’t help but twitch her lips.
Principles won’t put food on the table.
Besides, it had lived in the modern world for a long time. It had seen countless people kneel for power or money. It wasn’t the same—it was doing this to save its own life.
It was… nobler!
The white fox lifted its chin proudly.
Ye Zhishu: …
In truth, the white fox bore no trace of murderous intent. Otherwise, she would have killed it during the duel instead of sparing its life.
As for Ji Mingrui’s death fate, the Mountain God mark had shown:
【Name: Ji Mingrui
Fated calamity: 1 (September 1, 2025, 11:18 AM, dies in a car accident due to fatigue driving)】
But to say Ji Mingrui’s death had nothing to do with the white fox would also be incorrect.
Ye Zhishu observed that there was a causal connection between the white fox and Ji Mingrui. It hadn’t manifested yet, but she suspected that Ji Mingrui’s fatigue was likely related to the fox.
So she intervened.
As expected, once the white fox was captured, Ji Mingrui’s fated calamity vanished, and the causal link between them dissipated.
“Get up. I’m not killing you.”
Ye Zhishu raised her hand, and a broom standing in the corner of the temple flew automatically into the fox’s arms. “But you’ve spent quite some time in the human world. To maintain your humanoid form, you’ve absorbed the essence of many people. You can’t escape punishment. So you’ll stay here to sweep and cultivate.”
She would never admit that it was because she was lazy and didn’t want to manage it herself.
“I can’t stay here,” the white fox said, holding the broom. Though afraid of Ye Zhishu, it lifted its head. “I came down the mountain to find my family—I need to find my aunt.”
The fox had been raised by its aunt. Forty years ago, she suddenly said she had to go to the human world and abandoned him, never to return.
The fox had been anxious ever since, cultivating diligently. Ten years ago, it followed in search of her. It could sense she was in Beijing, but no matter how hard it looked, it couldn’t find her.
“Your aunt?”
Ye Zhishu raised an eyebrow. “Do you realize that your cultivation isn’t sufficient yet? If you don’t absorb essence, it’s hard to maintain your humanoid form. You don’t intend to harm others, do you?”
The fox’s eyes flickered with guilt. Weakly, it said, “I only absorb essence. I know my limits; I won’t kill anyone.”
It knew that causing actual killing karma would be entirely different.
“Your aunt…” Ye Zhishu stroked her chin. “I will keep an eye out for her, but you must stay here.”
The fox moved its lips, seeming to consider it. This plan wasn’t bad—after all, the woman in front of it was incredibly powerful.
“Do you realize that besides your aunt, there are other demons in the world?”
Ye Zhishu asked.
Since entering this body, she had sensed that the world’s spiritual energy was waning. Forget about proper cultivation; finding even a decent immortal haven would be difficult.
Any place with remaining spiritual energy had been turned into tourist sites.
So when she realized the white fox was a demon, she was a little surprised. She had thought there were no demons left in the world.
“I don’t know.”
The white fox shook its head. It had lived in the deep mountains since it could remember and had never left. “I’ve never sensed another demon in Beijing.”
Ye Zhishu nodded. This white fox was indeed a rare creature—in modern terms, a critically endangered animal.
“Fine. You sweep here. I’m going out.”
Her body was still weak from blood loss. Ye Zhishu lazily yawned.
“Wait!” the fox called.
Ye Zhishu paused. “Hmm?”
“Where is this place? You’re leaving me alone… a demon… here?”
The fox’s small body trembled at Ye Zhishu’s gaze. Despite its rough voice, it was still just a young fox. Awkwardly, it said, “I… I’m scared.”
Ye Zhishu couldn’t help but snicker.
“What are you laughing at?!”
The fox was furious. This woman was utterly infuriating!
“You’re so timid. How could you dare deceive humans?” Ye Zhishu crossed her arms and looked at it leisurely.
“That’s a different matter! I’m only trying to survive,” the fox muttered.
“Don’t worry. Besides you, there’s no one else here—no humans, no animals. You can rest and cultivate here. Behave well, and I will help you transform into a human form.”
With that, she didn’t wait for any questions. Ye Zhishu waved her hand and disappeared.
“Hey?”
The white fox stepped forward a few paces, unable to stop her, stomping its feet.
Surveying the desolate temple, it shrank its small neck, grumbling as it obediently began to sweep.
In truth, spending a bit more time chatting with the little creature could have been fun—but Ye Zhishu heard her phone ringing.
She opened her eyes.
Sure enough, the phone on the desk vibrated, flashing a familiar yet strange name—Ye Wanqing.
Ye Zhishu didn’t rush to answer, her gaze falling on the upper-left corner: 1:23 AM. Not a normal time to check in.
Moreover, considering how long the original owner had been evicted and ignored by the Ye family, why would they call now? Was this like a wolf giving a New Year greeting to a chicken?
The ringtone stopped because Ye Zhishu hadn’t picked up, then rang again three seconds later.
Ye Zhishu leisurely pressed the answer button.
“Hello? Sister, I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”
Ye Wanqing’s voice sounded cautious.
Anyone unaware might think the original owner had done something to her, but in reality, the original owner had been the one suffering.
“What’s the matter?”
Ye Zhishu rose, opening the clothing storage bag of the original owner, her tone lazy.
Ye Wanqing paused, sensing something slightly off about Ye Zhishu, though she thought she might be imagining it. “Sister, Father wants you to come home for lunch today. I’ve been away for so long. Though he’s upset, I can tell he still cares about you.”
“There’s no overnight grudge between father and daughter. Sister, you…”
“All right.”
“What? Wha—what?”
Ye Zhishu’s agreement was so straightforward that Ye Wanqing hadn’t even had a chance to say the rest of her prepared words.