The Fox Beneath the Burning Sky

Thunder rumbled within the black clouds,
and lightning flashed—illuminating the horror below.

“Ah—! A monster! A demon!”

The deputy commander stumbled backward.
When the next bolt of lightning split the heavens,
he finally saw the creature before him—
and realized it was not human.

It was yao.

A fox—pure white from muzzle to tail—
stood in the midst of the mountains.
Nine tails rose behind it,
whipping through the air like ribbons of light,
flaring each time thunder struck.

Its eyes burned like twin stars,
its pupils glowed like fire,
and from its lips jutted two long fangs,
each the length of a man’s arm.
It bit into its own forelimb,
trying to tear out the red-tasseled spears
that had pierced through its flesh.

The deputy commander trembled all over,
yet managed to croak,

“Lure the beast into the Killing Array!”

He remembered the Ghostmen—terrifying, bloodthirsty,
yet before that same formation,
they’d turned to frightened rabbits.
Surely this fox would fare no better.

Besides, it was clearly unstable—its mind clouded.
The nine-tailed fox threw back its head, howling:

“Qin An! Qin An! Where are you?!”

The deputy spurred his horse forward, shouting,

“Monster! I know where General Qin is—
but I’ll never tell you!”

He turned his horse and fled.
The fox followed, each leap shaking the ground.

The horse ran itself to exhaustion,
until they reached the edge of the formation.

Without hesitation, the nine-tailed fox stepped into the circle,
glaring around, its voice echoing like thunder:

“Qin An! Where is Qin An?! Give him back to me!”

The instant her words fell,
the Killing Array awakened—
its strings struck the melody of “Ambush on Ten Sides.”

The fox let out a cry,
collapsing under its own massive weight.
The earth shook; trees bent beneath its fall.

The deputy sighed in relief—
but then the golden light of the formation
flared brighter than ever before.

Cracks split across the ground.
He stepped back, panic seizing him.

Then came a low, venomous whisper from above:

“Qin An isn’t here.
You lied to me.”

Crash!

The fox’s paw slammed down.
The deputy commander was crushed into a smear of blood.

The heavens wailed;
even the mountains seemed to groan.

The nine-tailed fox rose into the storm clouds,
calling over and over again—

“Qin An! Qin An!”

Then she saw it—
a narrow mountain road winding below.
A single horse was galloping down it,
a young soldier clinging to the reins,
a blood-soaked man slumped across the saddle.

Qin An.

The boy’s voice shook as he spoke to the unconscious general:

“General Qin, hold on!
I’ll find a divine healer—you’ll live, you must live!”

Before he could say another word,
a curtain of smoke erupted before him.

The nine-tailed fox descended,
landing in his path with a deafening roar.

The boy yanked the reins too hard;
the horse reared, throwing him to the ground.

“Don’t eat me! Please don’t eat me!”

But the fox only exhaled—
a gentle breath that swept the boy far away.

Then she blew again, softer this time.
Qin An’s limp body lifted into the air,
settling upon her snowy back.

Gracefully, the fox floated through the air,
gliding toward the battlefield,
until she came to rest beneath the city walls.

“Qin An… you made me look for you so long.”

She laid him gently upon the ground,
and began to lick him—
slowly, tenderly.

The soldiers watching from both sides of the war
thought she was about to devour him.
But she only licked away the dried blood,
the dust,
the grime from his face—
as though trying to bring him back to life.

She even lowered her massive head,
nuzzling his body like a pet seeking affection.

“Hey, Qin An,
wake up.
Didn’t you promise to take me to the Jade Pool today?
Wake up, you lazy thing—”

Only silence answered her.
His body was cold—
too cold.

Two armies, two nations,
thousands of men stood frozen
as the nine-tailed fox—
a creature as large as a hill—
lay before the walls,
guarding a corpse.

Her snowy fur, once radiant,
was now streaked with blood.
Her claws could crush a man with ease,
yet she did nothing—
only spoke softly, endlessly.

“Qin An,
why won’t you talk to me?
Have you forgotten me already?
I’m Bai Xi—
we met long ago.
I was just a little fox back then,
clinging to your boots until you kicked me away.
I worked so hard to ascend,
to become a celestial being—
just to find you again.
So why…
won’t you look at me?”

Her voice rolled like wind through an empty valley.
The soldiers heard her words,
but none could understand them.

None noticed
that upon the city wall
stood a man in a green robe,
his long hair fluttering in the storm.

Then the sky changed once more.

The dark clouds ignited,
glowing red like molten iron—
as if someone had poured liquid fire
across the heavens.

“A god! There’s a god in the sky!”

A sharp-eyed soldier cried out.

All looked upward—
and saw a mighty figure floating in the clouds.
He was broad-shouldered, fierce-eyed,
wielding twin hammers.

With a single swing,
lightning struck like a serpent,
slamming into the fox’s back.

She screamed.
Her white fur blackened in patches.
Yet she did not move.

She crouched lower—
shielding Qin An’s body beneath her own.

“No! Don’t hurt him!”

The thunder god raised his hammers again and again.
Bolts rained down,
and the nine-tailed fox’s breath grew shallow,
her light dim.

Just when the soldiers thought
the final hammer would fall,
a sudden gale swept through the field.

From the sky descended
the man in the green robe.

He landed gently before the dying fox,
his voice soft, sorrowful:

“Bai Xi…
your vengeance is fulfilled.
Come.
It’s time to go.”

A silver light shimmered—
and both the nine-tailed fox
and the lifeless Qin An
vanished from sight.

The thunder god dissolved into the clouds.

The battlefield fell silent.
The war—
ended as strangely as it had begun.