“But someone beat me to it,” she breathed. “Someone else got to give me my birthday present.” A single tear slipped down her cheek—silent, unintentional. “It should have felt like justice. But all it felt like was… empty.”
Her voice faded.
Mingxi didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe. He simply reached across the space between them and, with infinite gentleness, brushed the tear from her cheek with his thumb.
“You are not alone,” he murmured. “And no vengeance could ever have made you whole.”
Her breathing steadied again, soft and even, and then she settled back to sleep. Mingxi watched her for a long time, the confession settling in his chest like a weight and a vow.
Chapter 60
Mingxi sat still, cherishing her closeness, her light even breathing. Her warmth seeped through his shoulder into his chest, quieting the foxfire that normally curled hot and restless inside him. He remained upright, posture disciplined, but something in him eased.
He could not sleep. Foxborn didn’t sleep deeply unless they were truly safe, and this mountain was anything but. With Poppy resting against him, her scent mingling with pine and moonlight, he allowed himself something rare: a trance. Not full consciousness. Not full rest. A state halfway between, where awareness hovered lightly at the edges and the body restored what it could without ever dropping its guard.
His breathing slowed. His heartbeat softened. His magic coiled low and calm. He drifted—present, aware, yet resting more deeply than he had in years. Every shift of wind still registered. Every sound threaded through the trance. Every heartbeat of hers anchored him in place.
He hovered there, silent and still, guarding her in a state Foxborn only entered when they trusted someone enough to let their power rest. He immediately noticed the moment his fingers brushed her hand lightly.
He noticed, and he didn’t pull them away. A ripple in the wind cut through his trance—cold, unnatural. His senses sharpened instantly. Not a revenant. Not a demon. Predator.
His eyes snapped open. The Yaoguai-Lang. His hand slid around Poppy’s waist, steady and sure.
“Poppy,” he murmured, voice low. “Wake.”
She stirred, breath catching as her cheek brushed his shoulder. When she saw his expression, she woke fully, heart pounding.
“What is it?”
Mingxi didn’t answer with words. He stood, and the creature entered the firelight. It emerged from the dark like a living shadow, massive and wolf-shaped, its hide black and rippling as though threaded with smoke. Golden eyes burned like twin lanterns, and hunger carved into every line of its body.
Poppy gasped, and Mingxi stepped in front of her.
“It hunts fox spirits,” he said quietly, drawing his blade. “Specifically.”
“It’s hunting you?”
“It smells fox qi. And injury.”
Her breath hitched. “You’re not—”
But the beast lunged.
Mingxi moved first—not out of panic, but with terrifying precision. He met the creature mid-leap, blade igniting with foxfire. The clash shook the air, sparks flying as the Yaoguai-Lang snarled, its jaws snapping inches from Mingxi’s face.
Poppy’s breath locked. “Mingxi!”
“Stay back!”
She didn’t listen.
The beast slammed Mingxi into a rock, teeth scraping at his shoulder as he twisted free. His blade slashed across its muzzle, but the creature was relentless.
It clearly smelled moonlight as it turned and charged Poppy. She froze. Her magic didn’t. A burst of silver erupted from her chest—wild, raw, instinctive. The blast struck the beast squarely, sending it skidding across the hollow with a guttural screech.
Mingxi stared at her, stunned.
“Poppy… that was—”
