The fox walked slowly toward the window, though she made no move to open it.
There was no need.
The formation sealed the room completely—sound, scent, and spiritual fluctuations contained within layered barriers of her own design.
She folded her arms loosely, her gaze distant as she looked through the thin curtain without truly seeing the street beyond.
"We still don't know where that special talisman dropped us," she said quietly.
Her voice was calm, but deliberate.
"That escape wasn't precise. It tore through space under pressure."
Her turquoise eyes narrowed slightly.
"If I can determine exactly where we are—what region, what governing territory—then I'll know who controls this city."
Only then could she assess the political landscape.
Alliances.
Enemies.
Dominant sects.
Whether the golden core cultivator who forced their retreat held authority here—
Or whether rivals ruled these streets instead.
She glanced toward the two puppets standing silently against the wall.
"And once I know that, I'll know our next move."
Her fingers brushed lightly against the pouch resting at her neck.
Resources remained.
But they were not limitless.
Talismans expended.
Pills consumed.
Spiritual reserves strained.
"For now," she continued evenly, "my priority is complete recovery."
She turned slightly, the lantern light catching in her turquoise eyes.
"I stabilized my core. But I haven't fully repaired the internal fractures."
Golden core backlash was not a minor injury.
It was structural damage.
Microfractures along meridians.
Instability in circulation.
Spiritual turbulence that, if mishandled, could cascade into collapse.
It required time.
Careful energy cycling.
Controlled absorption.
No haste.
She walked back toward the bed, her gaze softening faintly at the sight of the child curled around Little White.
"I won't make another rushed escape like that," she murmured.
"Next time, I'll be prepared."
Her tail flicked once behind her human form—a faint, subconscious habit she had not entirely suppressed.
"We assume pursuit until proven otherwise," she added calmly.
"Which means we prepare for anything."
Ambush.
Surveillance.
Interrogation.
Another cultivator.
Stronger.
Her eyes drifted toward the lizard.
"You as well."
Not a command.
A statement.
"We're in unknown territory."
The formation disk hummed softly overhead.
The Yin-bound puppets stood like shadows against the wall.
The child's breathing remained slow and even.
The fox sat back onto the edge of the bed.
"For tonight, we rest," she said quietly.
"Tomorrow, we learn where we've landed."
And after that—
They would determine whether this city would serve as shelter.
Or become a battlefield.
Little White did not respond.
He simply stared at her.
Golden eyes steady.
Unblinking.
Measuring.
The fox held his gaze for a brief moment longer.
Then she exhaled softly.
"This form is inefficient for rest."
The residual pill energy had nearly dissipated anyway.
Her body shimmered faintly.
Human skin blurred.
Limbs shortened.
Fur flowed outward like mist reclaiming its natural shape.
In a single breath—
She returned to her true fox form.
Elegant.
Light-brown fur gleaming faintly in the lantern glow.
Multiple tails unfurling and settling behind her in slow, controlled arcs.
Her turquoise eyes remained sharp within the smaller, more natural frame.
She adjusted herself on the bed, curling partially around the child without touching her directly.
Protective positioning.
Instinctive.
Calculated.
Little White's gaze did not waver.
He observed the transformation without visible reaction.
Energy density shift.
Aura stabilized further.
Her beast form carried less strain.
More natural circulation.
More efficient recovery.
Logical.
The fox rested her head lightly against the mattress.
"For now," she murmured, her voice softer in this form, "we conserve strength."
Her tails settled completely.
The room quieted once more.
Two puppets standing silent against the wall.
Formation humming faintly overhead.
Child sleeping peacefully.
Little White remained awake.
Still coiled in the child's arms.
Watching.
Listening.
Processing.
The fox closed her eyes—but her breathing remained too measured for true sleep.
Prepared.
Even at rest.
And the lizard simply stared at her.
Silent.
Thoughtful.
Present.
Time passed.
Morning came.
Golden sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the inn room, spilling soft light across the wooden floor.
Outside, the city had already begun to stir.
Muted footsteps.
Distant merchants calling.
Carts rolling over stone.
A living rhythm beneath layered urban noise.
Inside—
The formation disk still hovered faintly near the ceiling, its glow dimmed but active.
On the bed, the child was awake.
Wide red eyes blinking slowly at the new light.
She lay on her side—
Little White still in her arms.
One small hand wrapped securely around his body.
And her mouth—
Firmly attached to one of his horns.
Gnawing.
Testing.
Chewing.
The lizard did not react.
Not a twitch.
Not a sound.
Golden eyes open.
Staring ahead.
Processing.
No damage, he assessed.
Her teeth were small.
Pressure minimal.
Annoying.
But not harmful.
The child made a soft, content humming sound as she continued her assault on his horn.
"White," she mumbled around it.
Across the room, the fox now stood in human form once more.
The pill's effect had fully faded during the night, but she had shifted deliberately at dawn.
She had just finished wrapping both corpse puppets in thick traveling cloaks.
Heavy fabric.
Hoods drawn low.
Gloves concealing their hands.
Faces partially shadowed.
From a casual glance—
They would appear as silent retainers.
Not corpses.
She stepped back, examining her work with a critical eye.
"With this," she said calmly, adjusting one hood slightly lower, "no one will recognize them."
The Yin Thread bindings remained hidden beneath skin.
Their lifeless pallor masked by shadow and layered cloth.
"They can remain close," she continued, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. "In case anything arises."
Her turquoise eyes flicked briefly toward the bed.
She paused.
Observed.
The child still chewing on the horn.
Little White enduring it in complete silence.
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"You're remarkably patient," she commented lightly.
Little White did not respond.
He simply stared forward as the child finally released the horn—
Only to grab his snout instead.
The fox shook her head slightly.
"Today," she said, her tone shifting back to cool practicality, "we gather information."
Her gaze moved toward the door.
"We need to know exactly where the talisman dropped us."
Region.
Authority.
Power structure.
Threat level.
Only then could she determine their next move.
Behind her, the two cloaked puppets stood motionless.
Silent.
Waiting.
The morning sun climbed higher.
The city awakened fully.
And inside the small inn room—
Preparation quietly continued.