The lizard remained invisible.
Crouched low at the edge of the ruined clearing, it dragged its tongue slowly across its maw, tasting the lingering blood in the air. Its eyes fixed on the fox—not with urgency, not with hunger—but with quiet, predatory focus.
The fox, meanwhile, moved fast.
Too fast for someone who had just fought thirteen enemies.
Storage rings were stripped. Spirit tools vanished. Pills, talismans, fragments of armor—everything was swept up and stowed into its storage pouch, which now bulged visibly, qi pressing against the seams.
Finally, the fox clicked its tongue.
"Hah… completely full," it muttered. "Packed to the brink."
But it didn't stop.
Its gaze shifted toward a half-buried corpse—the rat-head cultivator.
The fox crouched, tugged free the **storage pouch** hanging at the corpse's side, and held it up thoughtfully.
"Oh right," it said lightly. "Can't forget about you."
It rolled the pouch once between its claws, eyes glinting.
"Unopened," the fox continued. "Still sealed. No idea what kind of good stuff you were hiding in here."
For a moment, the scene **shifted**—
A brief flashback.
Earlier, when chaos still reigned and alliances were being formed, the fox had casually tossed a storage pouch to the rat-head cultivator.
"Use this," it had said then, almost dismissively.
But that pouch had been **one of many**.
More importantly—
It still carried an **imprint**.
A perfect decoy. Until the imprint was erased, the rat-head would never have sensed what was truly inside. Never would have realized it wasn't even the fox's main pouch.
Back in the present, the fox chuckled softly.
"Good thing I plan ahead."
With a smooth motion, it slipped the newly acquired pouch away, tail swaying in satisfaction.
Nearby, unseen and silent, the lizard watched—licking the last traces of blood from its fangs, patient, very aware that this fox was far more dangerous than it had first appeared.
The fox snorted, ears twitching in amusement.
"As if I'd ever actually hand out **my** storage pouch," it scoffed. "What kind of idiot do they take me for?"
It gave the pouch a light toss, catching it again with practiced ease.
"A cultivator's storage pouch is closer than their own heart," the fox continued, voice calm, almost lecturing. "You don't give that away. Ever. Not unless you're already dead—or planning for someone else to be."
Its eyes slid briefly across the battlefield, over frozen corpses, shattered armor, and scattered bloodstains.
"Decoys, though?" the fox smirked. "Even those aren't made to be shared."
It tapped the pouch once, imprint flaring faintly.
"Let them think they've gained something. Let them fight harder for it. Greed makes people sloppy."
The fox straightened, tail swaying as it secured the last of the loot.
"In the end," it said softly, almost to itself, "everything still finds its way back to me."
Somewhere nearby, unseen, the lizard remained motionless—watching, listening, learning exactly what kind of creature it had chosen to hunt beside.
The fox gave the clearing one last sweep with its eyes.
Nothing left worth taking. Bones, blood—scraps for scavengers and beasts.
"Alright," it said, straightening as it cinched its storage pouch tight. "I'm done. Let's get the hell out of here."
Silence answered.
The fox didn't turn. Didn't rush. It simply waited.
Behind it, unseen, the lizard crouched once more—tongue dragging across its maw as it tasted the air. The sharp metallic tang of blood had faded, replaced by damp earth, crushed leaves, and the faint lingering qi of death.
Its gaze was blank.
But alert.
It sniffed. Once. Twice.
Satisfied, its wings flicked.
The lizard lifted silently from the ground, body **shrinking smoothly** as bones and muscle compressed with practiced ease. Its presence became lighter, subtler—harder to notice even without invisibility.
It drifted forward. A ghost in the air.
Then—
It settled. A gentle weight touched down atop the fox's head, claws finding familiar purchase in fur without digging in. Warm. Balanced. Still invisible.
The fox felt it and relaxed instantly.
"Good," it said quietly. "Thought you might've wandered off."
Its tails swayed once, then it turned and began moving, stepping away from the ruined clearing and into the dark embrace of the forest beyond.
Behind them, the battlefield lay abandoned.
Ahead—only night, quiet paths, and whatever trouble waited next.
---
**Scene Shift**
The fox moved through the crowded night market with practiced ease, form wrapped in invisibility. The scents, voices, and shifting qi of the bustling crowd barely registered—it was a ghost among the living, untouchable and silent.
The lizard clung lightly to the fox's head, still invisible, wings folded neatly against its back. Its sharp senses swept through the crowd, noting the faintest hints of movement and intent, but remaining patient, letting the fox lead the way.
Soon, the familiar outline of the **Moonveil Rest Pavilion** appeared, lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. The fox didn't break its silence. Without drawing attention, it guided them through the entrance, past the bustling front desk and curious patrons.
Inside, the corridors were quiet, the air still scented faintly of incense and spiced tea. They moved swiftly, avoiding servants and other guests, until they reached their room.
The door slid open without sound. The fox stepped inside first, scanning the room briefly. The lizard followed, settling silently atop its head once more, both now fully invisible.
The fox dropped the storage pouch onto the floor with a soft thud, tails curling around it protectively.
"Home sweet… temporary home," it muttered, voice low but tinged with exhaustion.
The lizard didn't respond, only shifted slightly, still tasting the traces of blood from earlier. Outside, the night market hummed faintly, unaware of the predators that had returned—victorious and unseen.