The fox didn't stop.
Still invisible, it moved through the crowd with practiced ease, weaving between stalls as the scent grew stronger—clean and woody, faintly sweet beneath the sharp edge of alcohol.
It halted before a wide stall built from dark bamboo and lacquered wood.
Jade-green lanterns hung overhead, their glow reflecting off rows of sealed ceramic jars stacked in careful tiers. Each jar was bound with thin talisman strips, characters etched in gold to preserve flavor and spiritual balance.
This was it.
The source of the scent.
The fox lifted its muzzle slightly, confirming it.
*Spiritual bamboo wine.*
The vendor stood behind the stall—appearing as an ordinary middle-aged man with calm eyes and plain robes. No visible cultivation aura. No obvious weapon.
Which meant nothing.
Reaching the stall, the fox came to a stop.
"We're here," it said softly. "You'll need to release your invisibility—only on me."
Above it, the lizard shifted.
The pressure in the air changed.
The invisibility clinging to the fox began to peel away—not abruptly, but gradually, like fog thinning beneath morning light.
Yet the fox did not immediately appear.
Instead, **mist** gathered where its body should have been.
Pale vapor coiled and condensed, folding inward on itself. The outline of a form emerged—slender, upright, unmistakably human.
From the mist stepped a **young woman**.
She looked ordinary.
Dark hair tied simply behind her back. Plain traveling robes. No visible weapons. No overwhelming aura.
Too ordinary.
The last wisps of mist dissolved, leaving her standing calmly before the stall.
The fox had taken human form.
The vendor looked up.
His eyes lit slightly—not with suspicion, but with interest.
"A customer," he said with a welcoming smile. "Please, take your time."
He gestured toward the rows of sealed jars.
"Freshly tapped spiritual bamboo wine. Properly aged, properly sealed. No dilution, no shortcuts."
The woman inclined her head slightly.
"I'm looking for quality," she said. "Not quantity."
The vendor nodded eagerly.
"Of course. Of course. For personal use?"
"Yes."
"Excellent," he said, already reaching for a jar. "This batch was aged four years in spirit bamboo casks. Smooth, stable, and easy on the meridians."
He set the jar down gently.
"Perfect for recovery, celebrations, or gifts."
The vendor's smile widened.
The market hummed around them, warm and alive.
The woman shook her head slowly.
"Your words don't matter to me," the fox said calmly. "Quality does."
She gestured toward the neatly lined jars.
"I want a sample. Right now."
The vendor blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"…A sample?" he repeated.
"Yes," the fox replied. "A small cup. I'll decide for myself."
The vendor studied her for a brief moment, then smiled again—this time with a hint of calculation.
"Well," he said, "if you're intending to buy, it's only fair that you confirm the quality."
He turned halfway, reaching toward the back shelves.
"Just give me a moment—"
"No."
The word was soft, but absolute.
The vendor froze mid-turn and looked back at her, surprise flickering across his face.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
The fox's eyes slid back to the jars directly in front of her.
"I want a taste from *those*," she said evenly. "The ones on display. The ones I'll be buying from."
Silence lingered between them for a single breath.
The vendor followed her gaze, then looked back at her face. After a pause, he let out a short chuckle.
"…You're cautious," he said.
He reached for one of the front jars, fingers brushing over the talisman seal.
"And cautious customers," he added as he began to break the seal, "are usually the ones who pay well."
The faint scent of spiritual bamboo thickened as the seal loosened, drifting into the air—rich, clean, unmistakable.
Still within the layered illusion, the fox—with the lizard perched atop its head—watched as the vendor selected a jar from the front row.
With a practiced motion, he popped the seal.
A soft *thup* echoed as it broke.
The scent spilled out instantly.
Warm.
Clean.
Alive.
The lizard stiffened.
Its small body leaned forward, saliva dripping freely now, tongue flicking as it licked its maw again and again. Its golden eyes unfocused, instinct flooding its senses and drowning thought.
The fox felt the shift immediately.
*…Tch.*
A voice transmission followed—sharp, but controlled.
*Calm down. Stay still. I really don't want to go bald.*
"I want it," the lizard replied instantly, hunger naked and unashamed.
*Yeah, I know,* the fox sent back. *I'm working on it. I just need to confirm it's real. Then you can have it.*
The vendor poured the wine into a small tea cup. The liquid shimmered faintly, pale green light swirling within as if the wine itself breathed.
"Here you go," the vendor said, extending the cup.
The woman's hand moved.
She accepted it.
The cup glowed softly in her grasp as the fox's Qi wrapped around it—not aggressively, but with surgical precision. The illusion parted slightly at the mouth, and within it, the fox redirected the wine.
The liquid lifted from the cup without spilling, suspended in midair by fine threads of controlled energy.
Inside the illusion, the wine hovered before the fox.
Its scent was even stronger here.
Pure.
Untainted.
The fox's eyes narrowed.
"Here it is," the fox said quietly. "The sample."
With a subtle motion, the suspended wine divided cleanly into two equal portions, each hovering steadily.
"Let's both have a taste."
One portion drifted upward—toward the lizard.
The other remained before the fox.
The Night Market buzzed on around them, oblivious.
But in that small, carefully controlled moment, instinct and reason stood face to face—
And the truth of the wine was about to be decided.