The Thirteenth Thunderbolt

I thought… I had heard that voice before.

It was twenty-five years ago, when I first came down from Mount Xuhe and met a man.
He held a black sword, his cold face carved with disdain for the world.

“Bold little demon, how dare you attempt to kill a god!”

That was the man whose shadow had haunted the edge of my dreams—
black hair, black robes, and eyes that had once held a warmth I’d never forgotten.

“Will you take me to see the blue gentian flowers?”
“You’re far too mischievous. One day, it will get you hurt.”
“A day will come when I can no longer protect you.”

Yes.
Him.

Qin An.

Twenty-five years had slipped away like mist, and the god I once knew now stood before me… as a mortal.

He approached.
The oil lamps on either side of the cell flickered with a sharp crack.

He stopped before the bars, looked down at me with mild curiosity, and said,

“So, you’re the little thief who ate all the Emperor’s tributes?”

Then he smiled faintly.

“Quite the appetite. I expected a burly bandit, not a woman.”

“Well then,” he asked, his tone light, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I could only stare at him, fingernails digging into the stone floor.

It was him.
It was him.

My legs trembled as I stood; I’d been lying there too long, and the blood had stopped flowing.

“Are you… Qin An?”

A guard barked from the side,

“How dare you! You don’t even recognize the great General Qin!”

But Qin An lifted a hand, silencing them.

He turned back to me, gaze steady.

“I am. And you are?”

“You don’t remember me?” The pain in my chest was sharp and real.

“I don’t know you.”

“I’ve been searching for you for so long.”

“Who are you?”

“Of course you don’t remember me…”

I began to laugh, hoarse and hysterical, the sound scraping like rusted metal.

“You flayed me alive. You killed me with your own hands!”

Wind roared through the prison corridor, dust rising in twisting columns. The iron bars shook violently under unseen force.

Qin An stumbled a step back, his expression turning fierce.

“What demon are you? I, Qin An, have no quarrel with you!”

“No quarrel?” I sneered.
My body lifted of its own accord, and in a flash I was behind him.
A chain of black iron wrapped around his neck, pulling tight.

Leaning close to his ear, I whispered coldly,

“Of course you wouldn’t remember. You flayed my skin, bound my soul, and pierced my heart with your sword. While I screamed in the Valley of Shattered Souls, you were lying in bed with her. Such tender days, how could you remember me?”

He choked, voice strained.

“I, Qin An, would never commit such vile acts…”

I tightened the chain, hoping—no, yearning—to hear the satisfying snap of his neck.
But deep inside, something sighed.

Then suddenly, he moved—swift as lightning.
He caught my wrist, twisted, and in an instant had me pinned to the ground.

His face hovered above mine, flushed and breathless.
When he finally spoke again, his tone was clearer.

“What you speak of—I have no memory of it. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

A laugh burst from my throat, harsh and half-mad.

“Qin An, you truly don’t remember me? I’m Bai Xi! The little fox who followed you everywhere—the one who took thirteen heavenly strikes of thunder for you, and nearly lost her soul!”

His whole body trembled.

His grip slackened.
I shifted closer, whispering:

“The first time we met, I was a young fox on Mount Lingxu. You were already a mighty war god. I asked for your name, and you said I was unworthy to know it—told me to return when I was your equal.
Because of that one sentence, I cultivated for thousands of years. And when I finally ascended… I went looking for you. But you had already forgotten me.”

Qin An pressed a trembling hand to his forehead, his expression twisting in pain.

“I… I don’t remember any of this…”

I smiled through tears.

“Then just remember my name—Bai Xi. That way, when we meet on the road to the underworld, you won’t be alone.”

“Bai Xi… Bai Xi…”

He repeated the name like a spell, dazed.

And in that moment, his restraint weakened.
I seized him, pulled him close, and sank my teeth deep into his neck.

Warm blood gushed over my tongue.
I tore off a piece of flesh.
The taste—sweet, metallic, intoxicating—filled my mouth.

A bolt of thunder split my skull, pain searing through every nerve.
My body convulsed.
Then—darkness.

As I slipped away, I heard his voice—hoarse, trembling, desperate.

“Bai Xi! Bai Xi, are you all right?”

I smiled faintly.

“I’m not Bai Xi.”

That night, I dreamed.

It was… strange.

Thick fog coiled around a vast, emerald meadow.
In the center stood a thatched hut.

A woman squatted at the door—white robes, black hair, a blade of grass between her lips.
She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, though her crude manners ruined the illusion.
She was Bai Xi.

Bai Xi chewed on the grass, spat it out, and scratched her foot lazily.

“How does one become a celestial? We foxes may be branded as beasts, but no one ever said beasts can’t ascend, right?”

She muttered to herself, unaware of the door creaking open behind her.

A man stepped out—a tall figure in green robes.
A heavy fog veiled his face.
I rubbed my eyes, but the mist wouldn’t clear.

He walked up behind her and, without a word, kicked her square in the rear.

Bai Xi toppled face-first into the dirt, then burst into laughter.
In the next breath, she flung herself at him.

“Master! You finally came out!”

The man sighed, pried her off, and picked up a wooden bucket.
He started walking.

“Master, are you watering flowers? Let me help!” she pleaded, clutching at his robes.

He stopped, voice cool.

“You’re a Nine-Tailed Fox—an ancient god-beast. I’m just a wandering immortal. I wouldn’t dare make you do menial chores.”

Her ears drooped, her lips trembled.

“Master, you’re still mad at me, aren’t you? My life only exists because of you. If you truly hate me, just kill me and use me as fertilizer for your flowers!”

With a puff, she reverted to her fox form—a small white creature with nine flowing tails.
Clinging to his leg like a koala, she refused to let go.

The man sighed deeply, set down the bucket, and said softly,

“If I killed you, the fox clans would never forgive me. Since you call me Master, will you at least heed my warning?”

She nodded obediently.

“Do not pursue ascension. Stay far from the world’s conflicts. Do you know what became of the Nine-Tailed Fox clan after the Celestial War seventy thousand years ago?”

She shook her head, then—after a pause—nodded solemnly.

The man gazed at her for a long time before turning away.

The scene shifted.

Now, towering above the clouds, stood a colossal white fox with nine swaying tails, each glowing faintly.
Lightning rolled across the heavens.

A god stood atop a black stormcloud, hammer in hand.
When he swung, the thunder crashed down like the wrath of heaven.

The fox’s body convulsed under the strike, fur scorched, blood spilling into the soil.

I realized—it was the Tribulation of Ascension.

The nine-tailed fox was Bai Xi, but magnified a thousandfold—
her body the size of a mountain, her power radiant even through agony.

Twelve bolts struck in succession.
By the twelfth, she was charred, broken, barely breathing.

The sky went still.
She stood, trembling but alive.

And then—clouds gathered again, darker than before.
A thirteenth bolt began to form.

“Watch out!”