Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Three-Tailed Fox

PS. Here is today's update, and I'm taking the opportunity to rally votes for the "Qidian" 515 Fans Festival. Everyone has eight votes, and voting will earn you Qidian coins. I'm on my knees begging for your support and appreciation!

When Maple Leaf and Old Nineteen saw the three of us, they also witnessed another kind of creature… foxes!

And not just one, but three at once—three white foxes, each with three tails.

Under the moonlight, the foxes' tails fluttered elegantly, their fur soft and ethereal, like celestial beings, lively and noble. Each one stood guard beside us, resembling three angels in white, there to heal and rescue.

What amazed Maple Leaf was that, as she watched, the foxes were licking the wounds on our bodies. With each gentle touch, our grimaces slowly relaxed, our pain eased, and it seemed almost enjoyable, the suffering lessened considerably.

Hearing this, a burden in my heart finally lifted.

Having a fox lick my wounds was disgusting, but far better than letting that person called Old Nineteen meddle with me.

When the three white foxes saw Old Nineteen, they immediately stopped their ministrations. All at once, they raised their heads and stared at him.

Old Nineteen put away his black dagger, frowned, and smiled, speaking to the foxes in a series of odd, chattering noises. His cheeks puffed as if he were greeting them, or perhaps uttering some incantation.

Maple Leaf couldn’t understand what Old Nineteen said, but what happened next turned her confusion into shock!

After the man finished speaking, the foxes actually bowed their heads and gave him a graceful salute!

Then, lowering their heads once more, the white foxes resumed cleaning and tending to our wounds.

Maple Leaf was so stunned watching the man's actions that her jaw nearly hit the floor.

What was this? Why would these seemingly wild foxes bow to a human? And why… did he know the language to communicate with them?

Yet in that moment, Maple Leaf’s greatest concern was not these mysteries, but what exactly the foxes were doing to us.

She voiced her doubts to the man.

He glanced at the foxes and replied cheerily, "The foxes are rewarding your friends. They are drawing out poison for them."

"They were poisoned?" Maple Leaf exclaimed.

Old Nineteen nodded. "There’s a kind of venomous insect in these woods called ‘Ghost Soldier’s Eye.’ I imagine you’ve seen it?”

Maple Leaf nodded, recalling the fireflies with strange, luminous glows crawling on the grey cat’s body.

Those insects must be the ‘Ghost Soldier’s Eye,’ then.

Later, the foxes departed quietly, and after Old Nineteen saw them off, he helped me recover my army knife, took away the bisected red insect I’d chopped, and carried each of us back to his wooden cabin, where he performed some simple first aid.

During this process, Maple Leaf was again astonished to find that, despite Old Nineteen’s effeminate appearance, he was exceptionally strong. His strength seemed entirely disproportionate to his slender body—he could hoist Zhao Hong, who weighed over two hundred pounds, with one hand, and still manage to bring along the wailing Ah Si.

Throughout, he walked without panting, his expression unchanged.

And so, Old Nineteen brought us, one by one, back to his cabin.

…After hearing Maple Leaf’s account, I was silent for a moment, then looked up at Old Nineteen standing nearby.

Truthfully, this man with a woman’s face made me deeply uncomfortable. I couldn’t see through him; he reminded me of Little Nine from the past—a distance and wariness I couldn’t quite explain.

Moreover, he was clearly connected to the series of events we’d experienced today.

So, after staring at him for a long while, I demanded, "Who are you, really?"

It seemed a pointless question, but it was the voice of my heart.

Who was he? Certainly not just an ordinary forest ranger.

After asking, I waited for his answer.

But he simply smiled, as if unconcerned.

His laughter was rich with emotion—self-mocking, yet also self-explanatory.

All in all, I found it profoundly irritating.

So I shouted again, "Who the hell are you! What do you want!"

He stopped laughing and finally replied, "I am myself. You can call me Old Nineteen, or you can call me Freak—it’s all the same, just names you’ve invented."

Just as my question was pointless, so his answer was equally empty.

Yet, somehow, I sensed he was hinting at something…

At that moment, Wang Hou, lying opposite my bed, suddenly coughed and shifted slightly, but he didn’t wake.

Wang Hou’s cough abruptly broke my train of thought and drew my attention.

I suddenly realized that Wang Hou had been in a semi-conscious state the entire time, never once waking.

Why was that?

In a rush, I pointed at Wang Hou and asked Old Nineteen, "What’s his situation? Why isn’t he awake?"

Old Nineteen glanced at Wang Hou and said, "He’s different from you. You were poisoned by the ‘Ghost Soldier’s Eye.’ He… was cursed."

"Cursed? What kind of curse?" I was baffled.

"Food curse," Old Nineteen commented nonchalantly, examining his fingernails. "He brought disaster on himself—it’s all the handiwork of your ‘Temple of Five Viscera.’"

This guy? He knows about the Temple of Five Viscera?!

His words made my chest tighten, veins bulging.

Suddenly, I lunged forward, grabbed his collar, slammed him against the wall, and demanded in rapid succession,

"How do you know I’m from the Temple of Five Viscera? How do you know I’m a cook? Who are you, really? Do you know Little Nine? Tell me everything!..."

…In my frenzy, Old Nineteen’s response was, as always, a smile—confident and self-deprecating.

Eventually, the pain from my wounds forced me to stop, and I withdrew, crouching on the floor, curling up, and glaring at him, "Why didn’t you fight back?"

Old Nineteen spread his hands, casually gesturing at me, "Why should I? You’ll stop on your own."

I was utterly speechless.

After a moment, he patted my shoulder and told me calmly, "What I dislike most is the scent of green onions you people from the Temple of Five Viscera carry—you bring it everywhere you go. As for tonight’s truth… do one thing for me first, then I’ll tell you everything."

He spoke, patting my shoulder again.

"What do you want me to do?" I growled.

At that moment, Maple Leaf covered her eyes and explained for Old Nineteen, "Isn’t it obvious? Get back in bed, quick!"

Only then did I realize…I had exposed myself again.

So, sullenly, I crawled back into bed, covering myself with the only sheet I had.

Once I sat back down, Old Nineteen didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at the bulb overhead.

On the cabin’s light bulb, a large moth fluttered around the flame, and in the quiet room, the sound of its wings was striking.

Each time it hit the bulb, a sharp crack rang out.

Old Nineteen watched for a while, then lowered his gaze and told me, "Your car strayed into a battlefield."

"A battlefield?" I asked, puzzled. "Whose? Could it be…the cats’?"

Old Nineteen replied, "There are cats, and white foxes."

A battlefield between two kinds of animals? It sounded absurd.

Yet his answer reminded me of the story Zhao Hong once told—the one about Jiang Ziya sealing the fox spirit. In that tale, there were no cats; the enemies of the foxes seemed to be the ‘Ghost Soldiers.’

So I pressed Old Nineteen, "Cats? Are they the Ghost Soldiers?"

Old Nineteen didn’t confirm or deny, and then continued,

"I’ve been in these mountains for many years. I learned long ago that the cats and foxes here have a deep feud, though I don’t know the reason."

Does he really not know? I didn’t believe him, but there was nothing I could do.

Unable to understand and unwilling to trust him, I asked, "Why do cats and foxes fight? Why do foxes help us, but cats attack us? We’re just passing through."

Upon hearing my question, Old Nineteen gave me an appreciative look that made me shudder, goosebumps rising all over.

He watched me for a while, then said, "Your involvement broke the balance between cats and foxes."

"Because I injured the King of Lanterns?" I asked, bewildered.

Old Nineteen nodded, smiling, "The King of Lanterns is the ‘Shadow Lord’ of the Yimeng Mountain cats. Vengeful and jealous, I’m afraid you’ve offended the entire tribe of cats. But in exchange, you’ve also won favor with the white foxes. Gains and losses—such is life."

We… offended a whole tribe of cats?

I could hardly believe it, but then my thoughts returned to Zhao Hong.

His behavior in the battle with the King of Lanterns was full of contradictions—he clearly knew how to counter it, but why didn’t he say so at first? Why, once he knew, was he too afraid to act, ending up terrified and nearly dead?

What was he so concerned about?

As I pondered, I glanced at Zhao Hong.

He sat beside me on the floor, his chest wrapped in bandages. He was in better shape than me, but his expression was scattered and worried.

He looked, not to exaggerate, as if his father had died.

He met my gaze, and after a moment, as if reading my thoughts, he seemed ready to answer Old Nineteen’s questions for me.

Zhao Hong spoke up in place of Old Nineteen, "My grandmother said the King of Lanterns is vengeful and jealous. If you provoke it, you can only beg for mercy. If you fight back… it’ll bring disaster on your family for three generations."

Zhao Hong’s words infuriated me, and I cried out from the depths of my soul, "Who among us ever provoked it? We were just passing through Old Qi’s road! We didn’t provoke it! It came after us on its own!"

As soon as I finished, Old Nineteen’s mocking laughter echoed…

The sound was especially grating. If I hadn’t been naked, I’d have rushed over and slapped him.

But I couldn’t—Maple Leaf was right beside me.

After laughing, Old Nineteen waved dismissively, "You really are naive! In the Temple of Five Viscera, I’m sure only you are left still pretending to be a good person!"

His words were ambiguous and loaded, so I couldn’t help but ask, "What do you mean? Have you met others from the Temple?"

Old Nineteen didn’t answer directly. Instead, he came over and gently patted my shoulder, "You’ll have plenty of chances to see your ‘friends’ from the Temple. From them, you’ll learn that human cruelty is far more dangerous than anything the King of Lanterns can muster."

His words were full of meaning, but I couldn’t grasp it—not his words, but him as a person.

He seemed to know all about the Temple of Five Viscera, easily and intimately. Yet his expression revealed he didn’t want to say more.

But, as a devotee of the Temple, I had to defend its honor, so I pressed him, "What does the war between foxes and cats have to do with us? Don’t talk nonsense! We’re just cooks in the kitchen; what would we know of all this?"

Before I could finish, Old Nineteen interrupted, "Precisely because you’re cooks! Only you could create such things! That glowing-tailed King of Lanterns is your work, your masterpiece!"

"Our masterpiece?" I was stunned. If not for his earlier attitude and actions, I’d have thought he was joking.

Why would the Temple create a glowing-tailed monster? To help light fires? Or hang it up as a lantern at night?

But then, Old Nineteen seemed to read my mind.

He didn’t wait for me to ask, but answered directly, "The King of Lanterns is just the name the Yimeng villagers use for this creature. It actually has a much more resounding name—you definitely know it!"

I immediately pressed him, "I definitely know it? What is it?"

Old Nineteen smiled and uttered just three words: "Fire, Tail, Lian."

His words nearly knocked me off the bed.

Fire Tail Lian? Why specifically Fire Tail Lian?

So the King of Lanterns is actually the legendary ‘man-eating beast’ of the Temple of Five Viscera… Fire Tail Lian?

With 515 approaching, I hope to keep climbing the Red Envelope leaderboard, so that on May 15, we can have a rain of red envelopes to reward readers and promote the work. Even a single coin is cherished, and I promise to keep updating diligently!