The lizard grew still.
The child lay beside it, fingers tugging lightly at the thin fabric of its wing.
Unaware.
Its thoughts turned inward.
"Is it the human memories?" it wondered.
Fragments surfaced.
Falling.
Catching.
Protecting something small.
Those reactions did not belong to a creature that hunted on instinct alone.
They felt… learned.
"Are they influencing my actions?"
The memories were clear.
Structured.
Human.
Another life.
Another body.
"Is the human soul still inside my body?"
The question lingered in the quiet chambers of its mind.
A faint pulse answered.
Cold.
Precise.
{System}
There was no sound in the room.
No vibration in the air.
Only a response that manifested directly within its consciousness.
> There is no secondary soul within the host.
Flat.
Definitive.
> The current entity is singular.
Soul integration complete.
No residual consciousness detected.
The lizard remained motionless.
So there was no other presence.
No hidden passenger.
No whispering human spirit guiding its limbs.
Only itself.
The child shifted closer, pressing lightly against its side.
Warm.
Small.
Trusting.
The lizard's golden eyes narrowed faintly.
"Then the memories are mine," it concluded.
Not influence.
Not invasion.
Integration.
The instincts that surfaced—
They were not foreign commands.
They were responses shaped by accumulated experience.
Human reasoning.
Beast body.
Merged.
No separation.
It flexed its claws slowly, testing the subtle tremor in its own thoughts.
"So the reaction was my own."
Not obligation.
Not external control.
Choice—so fast it resembled instinct.
Across the bed, the fox watched quietly, her keen senses catching the subtle shift in its aura.
"You look troubled," she murmured lazily, her tail curling around her legs.
The lizard did not respond.
Its gaze lowered to the child resting beside it.
No tears now.
Only the soft rhythm of quiet breathing.
"No other soul," it thought again.
Then whatever moved me—
Was me.
Suddenly, the child lunged forward.
Small hands wrapped around the lizard's body.
Clumsy.
But firm.
She pulled it close as she rolled onto her back, hugging its small form against her chest as if it were a cherished doll.
"White…"
Her voice was softer now.
Sleep-heavy.
Content.
The lizard's mind, however, did not quiet.
It continued racing.
Analyzing.
Replaying.
Human memories.
System confirmation.
Instinctive reaction.
Integration.
The child's grip tightened slightly.
Warm.
Fragile.
Trusting.
The lizard did not resist.
It stared forward, golden eyes unfocused, caught somewhere between thought and sensation.
Then slowly—
It adjusted.
Turning inward.
Tail curling around its body.
Wings folding tightly along its sides.
It rolled into a compact coil within her arms.
A defensive posture.
Yet not rejecting the contact.
The child sighed softly.
Her breathing slowed.
Steady.
Even.
One small hand remained tangled gently in its pale scales.
The lizard listened.
Heartbeat.
Slow.
Safe.
No threat.
Its thoughts gradually dulled at the edges.
"Mine," it reaffirmed.
The instincts.
The memories.
The choice to catch her.
All its own.
Its eyelids lowered halfway.
Not fully asleep.
Just resting.
Curled within the child's embrace.
Still.
Silent.
Present.
Time passed quietly.
The room remained sealed beneath layered talismans and a humming formation disk.
Outside, the city's noise softened into distant vibrations.
Inside—
Silence.
On the bed, empty bottles lay scattered beside opened jade boxes, their medicinal fragrance lingering faintly in the air.
The fox's turquoise eyes opened.
Clear.
Bright.
Stable.
She exhaled slowly.
The faint tremor that had earlier fractured her aura was gone.
Not perfect.
But no longer unstable.
She rose smoothly from the bed, unfolding from her resting posture with fluid grace.
Her tail flicked once behind her.
"I've recovered," she murmured to herself.
"Though not fully. That will take time."
Golden core damage did not vanish overnight.
But the pills had stabilized her meridians.
The herbs had soothed the backlash within her spiritual channels.
It would suffice.
For now.
She stretched lightly, joints loosening, then turned her gaze toward the other side of the bed.
The child was asleep.
Curled on her side.
One small hand still wrapped around white scales.
And there—
Little White.
Coiled.
Compact.
Eyes closed.
Breathing slow.
Still held within the child's arms.
The fox's lips curved faintly.
"You stayed," she said softly.
Not teasing.
Merely observing.
The lizard did not stir.
Whether asleep or merely resting, it offered no response.
The fox studied them both.
The room felt… different.
Calmer.
She stepped closer to the bed, suppressing her aura, her movements soundless.
Her eyes gleamed faintly as she assessed the lizard's energy.
Stable.
Condensed.
Unusually pure.
Her tail swayed thoughtfully.
"You're changing," she murmured under her breath.
Not physically.
But internally.
She could sense it.
The sharp hostility that once radiated from him constantly—
It had dulled.
Refined.
Not weaker.
Simply… quieter.
Her gaze shifted to the child.
Still clutching him as though he might vanish again.
The fox smiled faintly.
"Troublesome pair," she whispered.
Then her expression sharpened.
Recovery complete.
Next step—
Planning.
This city was only temporary shelter.
She would need information.
Resources.
And distance from whoever had sent that golden core cultivator after them.
Her gaze drifted toward the sealed door.
For now—
They rest.
But not for long.
She remained beside the bed a moment longer.
Then her posture shifted.
Focused.
Practical.
Her tail flicked once as she reached toward the storage pouch hanging at her neck.
A pulse of spiritual light shimmered as she opened it.
From within—
She first withdrew a corpse.
It dropped onto the wooden floor with a heavy, dull thud.
The one whose head had been torn clean off.
Moments later, she retrieved the second.
This one intact.
Its expression still frozen in the confusion it had worn before realizing—too late—that it had already become a puppet.
Both bodies lay motionless on the floor.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Yet far from useless.
The fox leapt lightly from the bed.
Her paws touched the ground without a sound.
Controlled.
Measured.
She approached the corpses, eyes narrowing as she examined them.
"Wasteful to discard such materials," she murmured.
Her claws extended slightly as she crouched beside the headless body.
The neck was ragged where it had been torn apart.
Spiritual threads severed.
Control channels disrupted.
Yet the primary meridian pathways remained intact.
Repairable.
She lifted the detached head, studying the damage with clinical detachment.
"I'll need to reattach it first," she said calmly.
"Then reweave the control lines."
Her turquoise eyes began to glow faintly as thin strands of spiritual energy extended from her claws.
Fine.
Precise.
Not brute force.
This was craftsmanship.
The second corpse lay nearby.
That one required less physical reconstruction—
But deeper reinforcement.
The control imprint would need strengthening.
Residual instinct silenced.
Autonomy erased.
Her tail curled slightly as she aligned the torn neck with its body.
Spiritual threads extended like delicate needles.
Stitching flesh.
Reconnecting severed meridians.
Reconstructing circulation pathways—not for life, but for movement.
Above them, the child shifted in her sleep.
Little White remained curled in her arms.
Silent.
Listening.
The room stayed sealed.
The formation hummed faintly, its barrier steady.
The fox worked without haste.
"Once restored," she murmured, "you will both be useful again."
Her claws pressed lightly against the corpse's neck as the first line of spiritual stitching sealed into place.
Energy flowed.
Threads tightened.
Alignment stabilized.
The work had begun.