The rat-man lifted a clawed hand, palm open in a mockery of mercy.
"Let's not make this messy," he said, voice smooth, almost kind. "Hand over your **storage pouch**."
His black eyes flicked deliberately to the fox's side.
"All of it," he added. "The stones. The items. Everything you picked up tonight."
A slow smile split his snout, incisors gleaming.
"Do that," he continued, pressure from his qi rolling outward like a damp, suffocating fog, "and I'll let you walk away."
One of the masked cultivators shifted uneasily. Another frowned.
The rat-man didn't look at them.
"I'll even swear it," he said lazily. "Unharmed. No pursuit. No tricks."
His gaze sharpened, locking onto the fox.
"You're clever. You know how this works. One Fifth Layer… twelve helpers… and you alone."
A pause.
"Be smart."
The forest held its breath.
The fox stared at him for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Then it laughed.
Not light. Not amused.
Ugly. Low. Sharp. Like metal snapping under strain.
"Unharmed?" the fox repeated, tasting the word. "You rats always say that."
It lifted one paw, tapping the side of its head with a claw.
"You know what's funny?" it said conversationally. "You followed me all this way, planned your ambush, counted your numbers—"
Its smile widened, teeth showing.
"—and you still think this is a negotiation."
The rat-man's eyes narrowed.
"Careful," he warned.
The fox tilted its head, tails swaying slowly behind it.
"No," it said softly. "*You* be careful."
The pressure around the fox shifted—not stronger, but **sharper**, like a blade slicing air. The uneven qi it had been leaking snapped into a tighter, more controlled flow.
"You see," the fox continued, voice calm, almost instructional, "if you were going to rob me, you should've done it inside Rivermarch."
A few cultivators stiffened.
The rat-man frowned.
"But you didn't," the fox said. "Because you wanted freedom. No rules. No witnesses."
Its eyes gleamed.
"So, congratulations."
The fox slowly reached toward its waist.
Several cultivators tensed instantly, qi flaring.
The rat-man snarled, "Don't—"
The fox pulled out its **storage pouch**.
Held it up between jaws.
Then—
It loosened its grip.
The pouch fell. Soft *thud*.
Silence.
The rat-man blinked, then laughed sharply.
"Good," he said. "Very good. You chose wisely."
Around them, cultivators leaned forward, greed sharpening their auras.
The fox looked at the pouch. Then back at the rat-man.
"…You really think that's the important one?" it asked.
The rat's smile faltered—just slightly.
The fox's ears twitched.
Far from the clearing—something moved.
The fox smiled again. Slow. Cold.
"You said I could leave unharmed," it went on. "You didn't say anything about *keeping* what you take."
The rat-man's whiskers flared.
"What are you—"
The fox's gaze slid past him, into the trees.
"…And you didn't say anything about surviving *each other.*"
The fox's grip loosened.
It **controlled** the black spear.
The spear **launched**, ripping forward through the air like a living thing. The ground split beneath its path—dirt and roots exploding upward as the weapon screamed toward the Fifth Layer cultivator.
The rat-man's pupils shrank.
"Hmph."
He slammed a clawed hand forward.
A **barrier** bloomed into existence—dense, layered, reinforced with earth-aspected qi. The spear struck it with a deafening **BOOM**. Leaves flew from nearby trees, and several cultivators staggered back.
The spear rebounded slightly, hovering midair, vibrating with restrained fury.
The rat-man's whiskers trembled.
He glared at the fox.
"Are you trying to die?" he snapped. "You think provoking me helps you live?"
The fox didn't advance. Didn't retreat. It simply stood there, tails swaying, voice calm despite the tension.
"Relax," the fox said. "If I wanted to die, I wouldn't be talking."
The spear rotated slowly in the air at its side, tip angled down—not attacking, but not lowered either.
"Trust me," the fox continued. "Dying here in a fight to the death? That was never my intention."
The rat-man sneered. "Then explain that."
The fox's eyes flicked briefly to the cultivators tightening the circle around them. Then back to him.
"I already did," the fox said. "I handed you the pouch."
A beat.
"But here's the problem," it went on, tone sharpening. "You said *you* would let me leave."
The fox gestured lightly with one claw.
"What about them?"
Murmurs rippled through the group.
A masked cultivator frowned. Another shifted stance.
The fox pressed on.
"You're not a sect leader. You're not their master. You don't speak for everyone here."
Its gaze swept the clearing.
"So until you can **guarantee** that I leave safely," the fox said evenly, "not just from you—but from *all of them*—I'm not handing over anything else."
The rat-man's jaw tightened.
"You dare question my authority?"
The fox shrugged. "Authority only matters if it keeps blades out of my back."
Silence fell again. Heavy.
The rat-man's eyes flicked sideways, gauging the others.
Some looked annoyed. Some eager. Some calculating.
None stepped forward to swear anything.
The fox smiled faintly.
"See?" it said softly. "That's why I attacked."
The spear twitched—just slightly—reminding everyone it was still there.
"So," the fox concluded, voice calm as still water, "either you control your little school of fish… or we keep talking."
Behind them, unseen, the grass stirred again.
The fox stayed low, all fours pressed into the forest floor, tails swaying slowly. The pouch hovered slightly, suspended by a faint shimmer of qi.
The lizard crouched invisible, tail coiled lightly, senses sharp. It smelled the tension, the anticipation. Every motion of the fox communicated precision and timing.
Then the ground shivered beneath the clearing.
…Now.
The ground trembled—not subtly. Soft dirt and roots split, dust lifting as the forest reacted.
A massive **earth snake** erupted from the soil, scales glinting faintly in moonlight, coiling and lashing forward with terrifying speed.
The target: a cultivator perched on a tree branch, Fourth Layer, balanced but confident.
The cultivator's eyes snapped open, qi flaring as instinct kicked in. He twisted mid-air, raising a hand to summon a barrier, pushing off the branch with a powerful shove.
The snake struck. Roots tore, bark splintered, and earth sprayed in a shockwave. The cultivator barely blocked it, the barrier snapping under the force of the strike.
The snake collided with him, sending shockwaves that rattled the branch. He dug his heels into the trunk, leaves and splinters raining down as he twisted mid-air, desperately redirecting the impact while keeping his balance.