The fox watched in silence as the lizard lowered its head.
Then—
*Crunch.*
The lizard bit into one of the corpses, teeth tearing through flesh and bone with methodical ease. No rush. No savagery. Just consumption.
The fox's ears twitched.
It studied the lizard more closely now.
"…You look a little bigger," the fox thought. Not much—but enough. The frame seemed broader. The muscles denser. Even the way qi settled around the body felt… heavier.
Its gaze drifted to the lizard's eyes.
It lingered a fraction longer than before.
*Were they always like that?*
The fox frowned faintly, then shook its head.
"Mm. Probably my imagination," it muttered aloud. "Long night. Too much blood in the air."
It turned slightly away, tails swaying as it gestured toward the remaining bodies.
"Go on," the fox said more lightly. "Eat properly."
Its voice softened—just a little.
"Hopefully all of this," it added, glancing back, "will help you recover."
The lizard continued eating, unbothered—slow, deliberate, silent.
The fox watched for another moment…
then finally looked away—
choosing not to dwell on the quiet changes unfolding right in front of it.
---
The fox turned from the feeding sounds, ears flicking once as if to shut them out.
"Alright," it muttered, more to itself than anyone else. "You're busy. I should be too."
It padded across the room, movements light despite the weight of the night still clinging to it. With a small hop, it leapt onto the bed and landed without a sound, crouching low as its tails settled behind it.
"This," the fox said quietly, eyes glinting, "is something I've been wanting to try for a while."
It shrugged off its storage pouch and let it drop onto the bed with a dull *thump*. A precise flick of qi—
The pouch opened.
One by one, **storage pouches** floated out, hovering briefly before being set gently onto the bed. Thirteen in total. Different makes. Different seals. Some still faintly warm with lingering soul imprints.
The fox's ears twitched in satisfaction.
"Not bad," it murmured. "Not bad at all."
Another flick.
The **auction items** emerged next.
Soul-thread talismans slid out first, glowing faintly as they aligned themselves neatly. Then came the damaged spatial ring, the pill furnace, and the other odds and ends it had deliberately selected—items unimpressive at a glance, but to the fox…
Useful.
Very useful.
The fox leaned forward, eyes sharp, surveying everything laid out before it like a dragon appraising its hoard.
"Let's see," it said softly.
Behind it, the faint sounds of the lizard feeding continued—slow, steady, inevitable—as the fox began its own work.
---
The fox hummed quietly, clearly pleased as its thoughts aligned.
"I'll be needing **this**… and **this**," it said, tapping the bundle of **soul-thread talismans** with one claw, then drawing the **refined Yin threads** closer with the other.
Everything else was swept back into its storage pouch with a casual flick of qi—clean, efficient, without hesitation. The bed was cleared, leaving only what mattered.
The fox moved.
One storage pouch at a time, it lifted them into the air, tail swaying in slow concentration. The refined Yin thread unraveled smoothly between its claws—cold, obedient, precise.
It looped the thread tightly around the mouth of the first pouch.
Pulled.
Knotted.
Then—*snip.*
The thread severed cleanly, both ends humming faintly with Yin energy.
The fox pressed them together.
A talisman slid free from the bundle.
With practiced precision, it placed the talisman directly over the joined thread, claws tracing a short sealing pattern as qi flowed in.
The talisman darkened.
The pouch went still.
"…And done," the fox murmured.
It repeated the process.
Tie.
Cut.
Join.
Seal.
Each pouch was treated the same way—methodical, patient, almost ritualistic. The lingering soul imprints inside stirred briefly, then fell silent one by one, suppressed and isolated.
The remaining Yin thread was coiled neatly and set aside.
The fox leaned back slightly, surveying its work.
"Simple seal."
---
The fox settled more comfortably on the bed, tail curling as it spoke—half explanation, half thinking aloud, as if fixing the logic firmly in place.
"Alright… let's make this clear."
It lifted one of the sealed pouches with a claw. The Yin thread binding its mouth shimmered faintly.
"**Soul imprints** are soul-based," the fox said. "They're not physical. They're formed from residual will, intent, and spiritual identity."
It tapped the thread.
"That means they **resonate**."
Its gaze sharpened.
"Yin energy is the best medium for that resonance. Soul-force is Yin-aligned by nature—memory, death, imprint. All of it. That's why Yin threads can *carry* soul signals without distorting them."
Then it gestured to the **soul-thread talisman** sealing the knot.
"This talisman doesn't erase anything by itself. What it does is **synchronize**."
The fox's claws traced the air slowly.
"I used the Yin thread to connect the *mouth* of every pouch—the point where the soul imprint anchors most strongly. Think of it like tying multiple doors together with a single lock."
It drew a short line in the air.
"The talisman forces all connected imprints into the **same spiritual frequency**. Same rhythm. Same phase."
It tapped the pouch once more.
"When that happens… they stop being individual imprints."
A brief pause.
"They become **one system**."
The fox's tail swayed once, pleased by the elegance of it.
"So now—when I use my divine sense to erase the soul imprint on **one** pouch…"
It made a small squeezing motion with its claw.
"…the resonance collapses."
The fox smiled thinly.
"Because the imprints are synchronized, erasing one causes a **chain failure**. The talisman propagates the erasure signal through the Yin thread instantly."
It spread its claws slightly.
"One action. One pulse."
Then it concluded, calmly:
"All the soul imprints erase **simultaneously**."
The fox leaned back, satisfied.
"No backlash. No resistance. And no trace left behind."
Its eyes glinted faintly.
"…Efficient. Clean. And exactly why those who understand Yin never brute-force soul imprints."
Nearby, the lizard continued eating—uninterested in the theory, yet benefiting from the results all the same.