Chapter 125: The Jade-Eyed Demon Fox

At night, according to the strategist's plan, five hundred Feathered Ones stood guard on the perimeter of the valley while the rest of the winged folk rested. The strategist and I disguised ourselves as ordinary winged beings and joined the patrol. Of course, the strategist needed no disguise, but I certainly did; if every Feathered One had plucked a single feather, I would have been buried alive. I was now covered in feathers, and the discomfort was beyond words!

The strategist and I paced back and forth with the patrolling Feathered Ones. As the hour of midnight approached, the demon fox had yet to appear, and I grew anxious. I whispered to the strategist, "Strategist, I fear the demon fox will not come tonight. We have waited for two double-hours, and there hasn't been a single stir." My greatest concern was the High Priest; if those footprints belonged to him and his party, they might well have entered the Myriad Demon Grotto. But we had seen no sign of others when we were searching for the Feather King. Could they have passed straight through the Grotto? If so, that would be disastrous; if they escaped and recovered their strength, dealing with them later would be a nightmare!

The strategist whispered back, "Wait a little longer. If it does not appear by midnight, we shall rest where we are and feign sleep. If it dares to approach, we shall capture it alive." I saw no other option. Soon, midnight arrived, and as the fox still did not show, the strategist ordered everyone to rest in place. The Feathered Ones fell asleep quickly. The early autumn night was slightly chilly, but the feathered kin feared no cold. The strategist and I leaned against a rock, pretending to sleep, while actually observing every movement in the distance. Gradually, I grew drowsy, when suddenly the strategist nudged me.

"Feather King, there is movement," the strategist whispered. I lifted my head to scan the surroundings, but aside from the bright moon hanging in the silent night sky and the gentle breeze, there was nothing—not even a mosquito, which my hearing would have detected from a hundred meters away. Just as I was about to ask the strategist what he had seen, a black shadow flickered rapidly under the moonlight.

Following the direction of the shadow, I looked up. It was Broken-Back Mountain, as my master had called it. The mountain was only about a kilometer from Worry-Free Valley and was the tallest peak in the entire gorge. From afar, it looked like a hunched old man; a natural notch in its back made it appear as though the man’s spine were bent and his back broken—hence the name.

At the notch of Broken-Back Mountain, a fox with six tails was watching our position. I dared not breathe, keeping my eyes fixed on the demon fox. Legend had it that foxes were cunning creatures; if we failed to subdue it this time, who knew what kind of trouble it would cause later!

The demon fox watched us for a while, likely assuming we were all asleep, and then began to descend along the mountainside. I thought to myself, "Come on then; I'll show you what I'm capable of." In truth, before the patrol, we had already laid a trap around Worry-Free Valley. Throughout the day, we had dug a trench one meter deep and half a meter wide around the valley, covering it with wooden sticks and withered grass before camouflaging it with dirt. After a day of baking in the sun, the soil had dried, making it invisible to anyone approaching from the outside. We were ready to catch the fox like a turtle in a jar. This ambush was, of course, the strategist's idea; I had to admit, he was truly a resourceful "man."

The kilometer distance was neither long nor short. Within the time it takes to smoke a pipe, the fox arrived. It poked its head out, crept along the mountain to observe for a moment, flicked its thin, sharp tongue, and prepared to descend. I quickly closed my eyes, feigning sleep, though I kept a tiny slit open to watch its movements.

The fox hesitated, seemingly cautious. After a long pause, unable to resist the temptation of the "delicious meal," it finally took a small step forward. The strategist and I were back-to-back, with the fox to our side; I dared not turn my head, so I could only glance sideways. Just as my eyes began to ache unbearably, the fox vanished from my sight. Even then, I dared not move, fearing I might startle it. I focused my attention on my ears, using my hearing to track its presence. *Tap, tap.* Those were the sounds of the fox’s paws hitting the soft earth—a sound no ordinary person could hear, and even someone with my level of internal energy could barely catch. It was getting closer.

Two hundred meters, one hundred, fifty. I calculated in my mind; in another ten meters, it would be right upon us. I prepared myself; with my space ring, the Frost Sword could appear in my hand instantly. I would run it through the moment it got close. But at that crucial juncture, one of the Feathered Ones suddenly rolled over, smacked his lips, and continued his deep sleep. A flurry of rapid footsteps followed, and the fox retreated two hundred meters away. I cursed internally—why did you have to roll over at such a critical moment? I even began to wonder if the fox was truly as powerful as the previous Feather King had claimed; it seemed as timid as a mouse!

After stopping two hundred meters away, the fox stared at us, unmoving. I grew suspicious—had we been discovered? That was impossible; I hadn't moved an inch, and the Feathered One had clearly been talking in his sleep. I debated whether to charge at it and call for help; with thousands of people in ambush, surely it couldn't escape? But I didn't know if I was faster than it. If I failed to reach it before it fled, the surrounding Feathered Ones possessed little offensive capability and would never be able to capture it!

I whispered to the strategist, "What now?" My voice was so soft I could barely hear it myself, and I trusted the fox could not hear it either. The strategist replied, "Wait and see. This creature is exceptionally cunning; do not startle it!" The strategist's words now carried decisive weight. Without realizing it, I had come to rely on him. No wonder great ministers and generals of old had strategists by their sides; so that was why. A person's rank did not always correlate with their intellect; everyone had their strengths, and the strategist's strength was his flexibility and wit!

Suddenly, I felt an abnormal aura appear right beside me. I opened my eyes wide to look, and my heart sank—somehow, an identical fox to the one standing two hundred meters away had appeared right next to us. We hadn't sensed its arrival at all. It must have heard everything we just said. I cursed silently and immediately shouted for the Feathered Ones to launch the ambush.