The White Fox

Qin Hao smiled and paid it no mind, stepping forward to follow.

Just as Qin Hao was about to turn away, he seemed to sense something. His head turned ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, toward where Dustin stood.

Dustin's heart stirred, but his expression remained unchanged, maintaining the same calm as before. His gaze seemed to sweep casually over the chaotic area, then moved away to rest on the shimmering surface of the lake—as if he were just an ordinary passerby whose attention had been drawn by the sudden incident.

Qin Hao's gaze lingered on Dustin for less than half a second.

He saw an ordinary-looking young man, dressed plainly, with a calm demeanor, standing by the lake watching the commotion—no different from the other curious onlookers around him.

The corner of Qin Hao's mouth seemed to twitch upward ever so slightly, forming a smile of unclear meaning.

In that smile was indifference, condescension, and perhaps a faint mockery of the masses that even he himself hadn't noticed.

Then he withdrew his gaze, turned, and followed after Qin Xue at an unhurried pace.

The two figures soon disappeared around a bend in the path on the other side of the park, as if they had never been there.

Dustin stood in place, his gaze returning to the lake's surface, fingers lightly rubbing together in his pocket.

A fate worse than death...

A single point through the air, invisible and formless, yet capable of inflicting such extreme agony.

This kind of technique was far beyond what ordinary martial artists or ability users could possess.

That casual gesture of drawing symbols was more like the methods of a cultivator.

Moreover, the sense of incongruity about those two was too strong.

Their attire and bearing so out of place with modern society, that indifference that treated human life like grass, and the eerie techniques deployed so casually.

"Are they disciples from one of the hidden immortal cultivation clans?" Dustin pondered silently.

He didn't know much about the hidden immortal cultivation clans—only some rumors he had heard.

Before, he had dismissed them as mere stories.

But after experiencing a series of events, he had come to understand that this world did indeed contain some powerful cultivators.

It was just that for ordinary people, these cultivators were beyond reach.

In fact, ever since breaking through to the Terrestrial Immortal realm, he had already transformed from a martial artist into a cultivator.

And now, he was in the stage of Nascent Soul returning to mortality.

"It seems Stonia is about to see another storm." Dustin murmured to himself.

Once disciples of hidden immortal cultivation clans emerged in the world, they were destined to affect the entire situation.

But with his cultivation completely gone now, he couldn't concern himself with such matters. He would just have to focus on being himself.

...

At this moment, Qin Hao and Qin Xue were already seated in a luxurious sedan.

"Brother, that person by the lake just now was rather interesting." Qin Xue played with a newly purchased pinwheel, speaking casually.

"Oh? You noticed?" Qin Hao leaned back in the comfortable leather seat, eyes closed in rest.

"I can't quite put my finger on it. Something felt odd, but I couldn't see anything special about him." Qin Xue pursed her lips. "Maybe I'm overthinking it. This mortal realm is so lacking in spiritual energy—what kind of person could possibly catch my eye here?"

Qin Hao opened his eyes, a faint golden gleam flickering in their depths before quickly fading. "Caution never hurts. But even if there is something, in this corner of the world, they couldn't make any waves. Our mission is to ensure Eugene Montgomary ascends to power smoothly and takes control of the Dragon Kingdom's secular authority, so the clan's subsequent plans can proceed. As for the rest, as long as they don't interfere with us, there's no need to pay attention."

"I know." Qin Xue extended the pinwheel out the car window, watching it spin rapidly in the wind, a childlike smile appearing on her face—as if the person who had so casually decided others' fates in the park just now hadn't been her at all.

The sedan drove away smoothly, merging into Stonia's busy traffic and disappearing from sight.

The episode in the park was like a small stone tossed into a lake—ripples spread outward, but the surface soon returned to calm.

Yet for certain people, the gears of fate had already begun to quietly shift.

...

By the time Dustin returned to the villa, the setting sun had already painted the horizon in shades of orange-red.

These past few days of peaceful living felt almost unfamiliar, but he was surprised to find he didn't reject this state. Without his cultivation, he could instead focus more on the details before him.

The fragrance of a cup of tea, the words in a book, the play of light and shadow on the windowsill.

This morning, he went downstairs to prepare breakfast as usual, but noticed something off in the kitchen.

The half-carton of milk that had clearly been there last night was gone, several slices of ham were missing from the refrigerator, and there was an empty milk carton in the trash.

Dustin frowned. The villa district's security had always been excellent—there shouldn't be any thieves.

Could Natasha have come by last night? But if it were her, she wouldn't have only stolen these few things.

He inspected the kitchen carefully, when suddenly he heard a faint sound from the storage room.

Dustin walked over quietly and pushed open the door.

A pair of amber eyes stared at him warily from a dim corner.

It was a small fox, pure white all over, about the size of an adult cat. Its right hind leg was curled up, bearing obvious wounds, with dried blood that had crusted into dark brown patches.

Its fur was white as snow without a single blemish, its fluffy tail wrapped tightly around its body, and there were still traces of milk around its mouth.

Upon seeing Dustin, the little white fox immediately bared its teeth, a low threatening growl emanating from its throat. But due to its injury, its posture looked rather pitiful.

– Marinien