Changmang enlarged itself and shielded Sang Dai.
But Sang Dai knew that it, already severely damaged, could no longer protect her. This strike would shatter Changmang completely.
She no longer had any strength left either.
Sang Dai closed her eyes, released the sword in her hand, and let out a soft sigh.
When she killed Sang Wenzhou, she had already resigned herself to leaving her life here.
Senior Ling Yin must be disappointed. She had not survived.
And then…
Him.
He would cry again.
Just as the blade light was about to reach Changmang, Sang Dai suddenly opened her eyes. Without hesitation, she lunged forward and pulled Changmang down into her embrace, shielding it with her body and using her back to block the blade light.
She couldn’t allow the last thing he had given her to be destroyed.
However—
The heavens and earth trembled.
A deafening fox’s roar shattered the sky, shaking the very ground. It was so loud that everyone felt as though their hearts and lungs had been struck by a heavy blow, as if a sharp blade was twisting through their insides. Those with weaker cultivation were severely injured and fainted on the spot, while even the elders had dozens of their meridians severed.
Before anyone could see what had arrived, their vision darkened.
The Burning Heaven Realm was already dim, but now even the faintest remnants of light were swallowed up. A single figure emerged in front of them—
No, not a person, but a nine-tailed fox!
It was utterly massive, towering far above the distant hill, its size overwhelming. Nine tails danced behind it, their silvery fur faintly adorned with golden patterns.
The elders, enduring the pain, lifted their heads to look up at the enormous nine-tailed fox standing protectively before Sang Dai.
A golden mark glowed faintly on its forehead. Its glass-like eyes were patterned with an intricate clarity, like gemstones—breathtakingly beautiful, yet at this moment filled with a bone-chilling dread.
Its gaze was brimming with murderous intent. The pupils in its eyes began to narrow into vertical slits, revealing its extreme fury. A faint hellfire ignited around its body, and the oppressive might of a Grand Ascension-stage demon cultivator spread, forcing everyone present to their knees.
“You all deserve to die.”
Each word was uttered through gritted teeth, and even the voice carried an icy, merciless tone.
When Liu Lixue arrived, he saw his lord’s towering true form standing protectively in front of Sang Dai. Thousands of people were forced to their knees by his overwhelming pressure, coughing up blood with terror etched across their faces.
Su Xuan had clearly lost all sense of reason. His pupils had fully shifted into vertical slits, and karmic flames were burning around him, as though he had emerged straight from a raging inferno.
And behind him, Sang Dai…
Liu Lixue’s knees nearly gave out, and he almost collapsed to the ground.
It’s over. It’s really over this time. Su Xuan was truly about to lose his mind.
Scrambling to his feet, Liu Lixue clumsily ran toward Su Xuan. “My lord, don’t act rashly! You can’t kill them!!!”
Su Xuan didn’t hear him at all. He raised a foot, ready to crush a group of people beneath him, when a small hand touched his tail.
His tail was enormous—just one was several times thicker than Sang Dai herself.
Yet, with just a light touch, the ancient divine beast came to a complete halt.
The clean silver fur of his tail was stained with the blood from the sword cultivator’s palm. Sang Dai gently stroked it.
“Su Xuan, you mustn’t kill them.”
Su Xuan turned his massive body to face her, looking down from above. Despite this, he channeled his spiritual energy into her meridians, protecting her Golden Core.
Sang Dai was drenched in blood. Su Xuan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, and it was as if he was dragged back to two months ago. The deepest, most repressed part of his heart was triggered, and even his pupils trembled.
Sang Dai steadied her voice and said, “Su Xuan, the disciples follow the orders of their sects. They were deceived by the elders—they are blameless. The elders of the other sects are ignorant and cannot distinguish right from wrong. They are guilty but do not deserve death.”
She paused after every sentence, blood continuously dripping from the corners of her mouth.
Su Xuan coldly scolded, “Fool. Idiot.”
But his spiritual energy flowed into her without reserve, stabilizing her severely damaged meridians and protecting her shattered Golden Core.
Sang Dai’s pain eased slightly. She smiled faintly, her eyes curving. “Yes, I’m foolish, I’m an idiot… but Beast King, you are the clever one, finding me all the way out here.”
Su Xuan said nothing. His beast-like pupils remained icy and indifferent.
Yet, the towering nine-tailed fox lowered its massive body, lying down in front of her. Its soft, furry head nudged against her face. She heard a low whimper—quiet, but unmistakable.
Her blood stained his fur.
“Su Xuan, I’m covered in blood. I’m so dirty.”
“You’re not dirty.”
“But you always like to stay clean.”
“You are clean.”
Sang Dai chuckled softly.
Her entire body felt cold and pained, but as Su Xuan approached, the karmic flames burning around him radiated warmth. They didn’t harm her in the slightest and instead pressed against her with tender closeness.
Sang Dai murmured faintly, “Su Xuan… I’m so cold.”
Su Xuan returned to his massive, hill-like form and gently picked her up with his jaws, gripping her waist carefully as he placed her on his back. His movements were so delicate that he deliberately retracted his sharp fangs, afraid of hurting the fragile sword cultivator.
Lying on Su Xuan’s immense true form, Sang Dai felt his body’s high temperature. His thick, fluffy fur was as warm as the finest brocade. He intensified the karmic flames around them, enveloping her entirely in their comforting heat.
Sang Dai turned to her side, her consciousness already fading, but she murmured softly, “I still want the tail.”
Su Xuan extended another tail into her arms.
She clutched the tail tightly, finally finding something to hold onto, no longer alone.
“Su Xuan, I’m going to sleep now. You can’t kill anyone, and don’t disturb me while I sleep.”
“…Alright.” After a moment, he added softly, “Sleep well.”
“Then I’ll sleep now… Don’t talk to me. I won’t respond to you.”
“Mm.”
At last, no one could see.
Sang Dai’s tears fell, drop by drop, as she hugged his fox tail, silently sobbing.
A century’s worth of tears, bottled up for so long, burst forth all at once.
Her body trembled, but she bit her lip, refusing to let a single sound escape. No one saw the sword cultivator crying on the back of the nine-tailed fox—no one except Changmang, lying silently beside her.
Su Xuan stood still for a long time, his eyes lowered, his thoughts unreadable.
Liu Lixue cautiously watched this unpredictable ancestor of his, terrified that he might suddenly give in to his killing instincts and unleash a massacre. If everyone here were to die, the Immortal Realm would undoubtedly wage war against the Beast Realm.
Though Su Xuan was the Beast King, he wasn’t bloodthirsty. Since ascending the throne, he had never initiated a war. Under his rule, the Beast Realm had prospered. If he acted recklessly now, the royal court would surely seize the opportunity to use it against him.
Thankfully, Su Xuan showed no intention of killing. He didn’t even glance at the people kneeling under his oppressive might. Instead, he carried Sang Dai on his back and turned to leave.
He left behind a single command: “Liu Lixue, take the Zhiyu Sword.”
Liu Lixue glanced at the broken Zhiyu Sword on the ground, sighed deeply, picked it up, and followed.
They had arrived in a hurry, but their return was slow and steady.
—
On a distant mountaintop, two figures sat side by side, legs crossed.
Ji Cang raised an eyebrow. “What a show. But it seems you missed your mark.”
Fu You chuckled, casually munching on sunflower seeds. “Someone else failed, not me. I never intended to kill Sang Dai.”
He tilted his chin slightly, his expression carefree. “If Sang Dai had died, I’d have called it a win; if she didn’t die, it’s not exactly a loss.”
Ji Cang grabbed a handful of his sunflower seeds, earning a frosty glare from Fu You. “Put them back.”
Ji Cang sighed. “…Fine, here.”
He tossed the seeds back and stood, stretching as he gazed at the departing nine-tailed fox and the girl on its back.
“But honestly, Sang Dai is stronger than either of us. Even with her Golden Core half-shattered, she used such a small amount of Guixu spiritual energy to summon the Nine Heavens Profound Thunder. The Heavenly Dao truly favors her.”
His words were tinged with bitterness, but his expression showed no envy.
If anything, there was a hint of admiration in his eyes.
“If I weren’t no match for Su Xuan, I’d be tempted to snatch her away. After all, in all my years in the Beast Realm, I’ve rarely encountered someone so formidable. I’d have made her my right hand.”
Fu You rolled his eyes. “Stop boasting. Su Xuan fights her just to see her. You fight her to take her life. And with that face of yours—after all these years, do you think she even remembers what you look like?”
Ji Cang let out a sigh, then casually changed his face again, running his hand over his new features. “Tsk, this one’s not bad either.”
Fu You remarked disdainfully, “Your sense of aesthetics is tragically pitiful.”
Ji Cang turned away and began to walk off slowly, speaking as he went. “Hey, you’d better watch your neck these days. Someone might just come for your head.”
Fu You brushed the dust from his sleeves as he stood up. “Don’t trouble yourself with worrying about me. You might want to be careful too. Who do you think led those Sword Sect people over? Do you really think Su Xuan hasn’t figured it out yet?”
He hooked an arm over Ji Cang’s shoulder, patting him on the chest with a grin. “Say, do you think the two of us, both at the peak of the Soul Transformation stage, could beat him, a Grand Ascension stage demon?”
Ji Cang raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, maybe if you called that Tribulation-stage vengeful ghost Ling Yin to join us, we could gang up on Su Xuan. It’s more fun to bully him with numbers. But I doubt she’d agree.”
Fu You’s smile froze, his face suddenly turning cold.
“Don’t mention her.”
“Why not? This time, she was a big help. Without her, you wouldn’t have gotten to see such a good show.”
Fu You sneered, “Help? I only asked her to unlock Sang Dai’s restriction—I didn’t ask her to tell Sang Dai so much, let alone teach her how to use the Tianyu Stone.”
Otherwise, Sang Dai would’ve been dead long ago and wouldn’t have summoned the heavenly thunder.
Ji Cang sighed deeply. “There are many who want Sang Dai dead, but it seems there are quite a few who want her alive too. Such good fortune, truly enviable.”
Fu You shot him a cold glare.
—
This time, Sang Dai didn’t remain unconscious for long.
When she woke up, she didn’t even feel pain. Apart from a sense of weakness, she seemed to be in surprisingly good shape.
Su Xuan was still in his fox form, curled up in a circle with Sang Dai tucked within his embrace, using his fluffy tail as her pillow.
They had already left the Burning Heaven Realm.
Sang Dai felt dazed. She hadn’t yet found the Immortal Velvet Grass or awakened her Heaven-grade spiritual root. Why had Su Xuan brought her out?
He was asleep, his fox head resting beside her face. Even his warm breaths were scorching, and the air around him carried a faint scent of grass and wood.
At this close distance, Sang Dai could count every one of Su Xuan’s lashes and see the intricate golden markings on his forehead.
The ornate and solemn golden patterns were the spiritual imprint of a divine beast.
Sang Dai felt warm—so warm that her face was slightly flushed, and a thin layer of sweat covered her skin.
Not wanting to disturb Su Xuan’s rest, she carefully shifted, trying to slip out of his embrace.
“Awake?”
Su Xuan’s voice.
Sang Dai froze mid-movement.
The fox tail disappeared, and Su Xuan had already shifted back into his human form.
Now dressed in nothing but a black inner robe, the paw that had rested on her waist in his fox form had turned into his hand.
Sang Dai: “…”