The fox exhaled slowly, ears flicking back.
"…This is **my own theory**," it said, almost defensively, as if arguing with itself more than anyone else. "Nothing written. Nothing tested. Just logic."
Its gaze swept across the line of storage pouches hovering above the bed—each bound together by faintly glowing Yin thread, every knot sealed with a soul-thread talisman.
"So don't take this as certainty," the fox added. "This is an **experiment**. I don't actually know if it'll work the way I think it will."
A brief pause.
"…But we're about to find out."
The room fell silent.
With a controlled breath, the fox closed its eyes. Its posture stilled completely—no twitch of tail, no shift of claw. From its brow, a thin, nearly invisible strand of **divine sense** extended outward, delicate and precise, threading itself into **one** of the storage pouches.
There was no force.
No aggression.
Only careful contact.
The fox began to erase the soul imprint.
Slowly.
Methodically.
It peeled away the residual will embedded within the pouch, dissolving it layer by layer, guiding the divine sense like a blade made of thought. The Yin thread trembled faintly—almost imperceptibly—as if responding.
The talismans did not flare.
They *listened*.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
The only sound in the room—
the soft, wet **crunch** of bone.
Nearby, the lizard finished tearing through the last corpse, blood slick on its maw. It chewed, swallowed, then shifted slightly, claws scraping faintly against the floor.
The fox did not open its eyes.
Its focus did not waver.
The divine sense continued its work, the erasure nearing completion.
One imprint.
One system.
Silence stretched—
waiting to see whether theory would become truth.
The lizard tore away the final strip of flesh and swallowed.
No pause.
No satisfaction.
Inside its mind, something responded.
{System}
**[Evolution Points gained: +4000.]**
The notification surfaced—clean and precise.
The lizard did not react.
Its posture didn't change. Its breathing didn't hitch. There was no flare of excitement, no instinctive celebration.
It simply shifted forward.
Blood dripped from its maw as it lowered its head to the **next corpse**, claws pinning the body with practiced ease. Its jaws opened again, fangs sinking in with the same calm efficiency as before.
*Eat.*
That was all.
Flesh parted.
Bone cracked.
Energy flowed.
The system remained silent this time, waiting for completion.
Nearby, the fox remained utterly still, eyes closed, divine sense stretched thin and sharp as it continued erasing the soul imprint—unaware, or unconcerned, with the quiet accumulation of power happening only a few steps away.
Two processes.
Two paths of growth.
Neither rushed.
Neither interrupted.
The room filled only with the muted sounds of consumption and cultivation—
the steady, relentless rhythm of advancement.
---
The fox crouched low on the bed, tails tucked, breath steady.
Thirteen storage pouches floated before it in a loose circle, their mouths bound together by the **Yin thread**, the thread faintly glowing as it drank in the ambient cold energy of the room. At each knot, a **soul-thread talisman** lay flat, its inscriptions dim but intact—waiting.
The fox's eyes remained closed.
Its divine sense slipped forward—thin, precise—entering **one** pouch.
Carefully.
Slowly.
It found the soul imprint inside: tangled, stubborn, carrying the final echo of its former owner's will. The fox did not rush. It ground the imprint down layer by layer, unraveling intent, memory, and authority until—
*Gone.*
The instant the imprint collapsed, something **shifted**.
The Yin thread pulsed.
Not violently.
Not chaotically.
Like a breath being released.
A ripple surged outward along the thread, sliding cleanly through every connection, every knot, every talisman. The soul-thread talismans flared once—silent, pale—and then extinguished.
One after another.
The remaining pouches trembled.
Inside them, **thirteen soul imprints** shattered almost simultaneously—no resistance, no struggle—erased in a single cascading sweep, as if they had all been the same imprint to begin with.
The pouches fell still.
Weightless.
Empty of ownership.
The fox's eyes snapped open.
They gleamed.
"…It worked," the fox muttered, disbelief and sharp satisfaction mixing in its voice.
It stared at the pouches, ears twitching, mind racing as the implications unfolded.
*One erasure… triggering all thirteen.*
Not brute force.
Not time-consuming purification.
But **linked authority**—turning multiple soul imprints into a single system, then collapsing it at the source.
The fox let out a low, incredulous laugh.
"…Hah. So it really is possible."
Its tails swayed slowly behind it.
"This wasn't just an experiment," it said quietly. "This is a method."
Across the room, the lizard continued eating, unbothered—jaws working, claws steady—as power accumulated without fanfare.
The fox glanced in its direction briefly, then back at the pouches.
Eyes sharp.
Greed tempered by calculation.
"…Looks like tonight paid off more ways than one."
---
The fox stared at the floating pouches a moment longer, tails slowly swaying, the faint glow of the Yin thread reflected in its eyes.
Then it huffed.
"…When I bid for those items," it said aloud, half to itself, half to the quiet room, "I didn't even *think* of this."
Its gaze slid to the discarded bundle of soul-thread talismans and the remaining coil of Yin thread on the bed.
"I bought them on impulse. Heat of the auction. Thought—*I'll find a use for them later.* Didn't want it to look like I'd wasted spirit stones."
It clicked its tongue, ears flicking.
"And look at this. Who would've thought they'd fit together like this?"
The fox lifted one paw, gesturing at the pouches hovering obediently in the air.
"Soul imprint. Yin-based resonance. Authority transfer through connection…" It paused, then snorted softly. "I wasn't even planning this. It just… lined up."
Silence followed.
Then the fox straightened slightly, pride creeping into its posture despite its attempt to remain casual.
"…I really *am* a genius, aren't I?"
A low chuckle escaped it.
"Smarter than I give myself credit for. Way smarter." Its tails flicked with quiet satisfaction. "Most cultivators would've erased thirteen imprints one by one. Slow. Careless. A waste of time."
It studied the pouches again, eyes sharp and thoughtful.
"But this?" it murmured. "This is efficiency."
The fox tilted its head, considering the thought seriously now.
"…Maybe I picked the wrong path," it said slowly. "Formation master. Talisman master. Something like that."
Its gaze drifted to the talismans, then to the faint traces of formation logic still lingering in the air.
"With enough prep—enough tools…" A grin crept across its muzzle. "I wouldn't even need to fight most of the time. I could just let the world do the work for me."
From the corner of the room came the steady sound of the lizard feeding—bone cracking softly, flesh tearing—utterly unconcerned with genius or ambition.
The fox glanced over once, then laughed quietly.
"…Heh. Maybe I really *should* take this seriously."
It looked back at its work, eyes gleaming.
"Alright," it said softly. "Let's see what else I can break."