Chapter 80
The creature was bigger than the one Mingxi had fought outside the moonwell. Twice the size, ribs flexing beneath corrupted fur like insect wings. Jaws unhinged too wide. Eyes cracked with silver and black lightning—markings of shard-sickness.
It looked at no one else, only Mingxi, and drooled.
Poppy tried to step forward, but Mingxi shoved her behind him instantly.
“No,” he said, voice breaking. “Don’t move. Don’t breathe loud. It’s here for me.”
The Yaoguai-Lang screamed and charged, but Minghua moved first. The youngest Shen threw herself into the creature’s path with a feral cry, shifting midair into a silver fox. A warrior yanked her tail mid-leap.
“Minghua, no!” Yunlian shouted, lunging forward.
She twisted free, sparks flying from her paws.
Mingjun sprinted in next, barking orders, “Form the crescent! Drive it away from the hall!”
Warriors obeyed instantly.
Xu Yunlian lifted both hands, weaving foxfire sigils that burst into silver ribbons forming a barrier across the entrance. Council elders joined her, staves slamming into the ground, chanting old fox-lore so deep the floorboards shook.
But the Yaoguai-Lang didn’t slow. It slammed into the foxfire barrier—biting, clawing, tearing—each strike making reality warp like molten glass.
Poppy pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking. She’d never seen the Shen clan fight. Never seen what they were when protecting one of their own. She barely recognized them.
Mingxi tried to lunge toward the beast, but Mingzhao’s arm locked across his chest like a steel band.
“You will sit!” Mingzhao growled. “And watch. We protect our own.”
The Yaoguai-Lang roared again, jaws splitting too wide, shadow pouring from its maw. Mingzhao inhaled. Slow. Deep. Ancient. His aura erupted outward, foxfire flaring bright enough to throw the entire hall into white-blue light. His hair lifted like static. His silhouette blurred.
Then, he changed. Not like the young fox spirits. Not like Mingxi’s sleek combat-shift. This was something older. Apex. Divine. A nine-tailed fox stood where Shen Mingzhao had been. Massive. Regal.
Terrifying.
His fur shimmered like molten silver. His nine tails unfurled behind him like a halo of blades. His golden eyes burned with a cold fury so focused it felt holy. The room went silent. Even the Yaoguai-Lang hesitated. For one breath.
Then Mingzhao moved. Nine tails lashed, and a shockwave of foxfire crashed through the hall. The beast was thrown back, shrieking as its corrupted flesh blistered. Warriors shifted in unison, darting beneath the flare of divine power. Minghua sprinted along the beast’s flank, snapping at its ankles. Mingjun leapt onto its back, driving a foxfire blade into the ridge of its spine.
Poppy couldn’t move.
The air pressed in on her lungs, heavy with heat and silver light, as if the hall itself had bowed. Her bones hummed, teeth aching, vision stuttering as something vast and ancient filled the space where a man had been. This wasn’t a fight. This was judgment.
Xu Yunlian’s binding ribbons spiraled around its legs, anchoring it in place. The elders tightened the containment circle, but the beast wanted Mingxi. It tasted his unstable qi. It smelled his newly awakened tails. With a monstrous wrench, the Yaoguai-Lang tore free, sending shockwaves through the containment circle. It twisted toward the hall, toward Mingxi.
Poppy stepped in front of him, not consciously, not bravely. Just instinct.
“Poppy!” Mingxi lunged, too far away.
The Yaoguai-Lang leapt. Mingzhao’s nine tails intercepted midair. The impact shook the hall. Foxfire detonated from every tail. The beast writhed, burning from the inside out, foxfire devouring its corrupted qi.
It screamed—once, twice—and then collapsed into ash and cracked bone.
Silence.
Mingzhao shifted back slowly, foxfire peeling away from him like falling embers. He turned. First to the ashes, then to Poppy, and then to his son.
His voice echoed with the force of an oath spoken before the ancestors, “My son is under the protection of Huoyáo Jìng. Any beast who hunts him will face all nine of my tails.”
