The Little Fox Spirit Doesn't Want to Carry a Cub - Chapter 20.2

He buried his head in his arms, curling himself into a small ball in distress.

Lin Jianxue closed his eyes.

“Three hundred years ago, you were the one who saved me and brought me to Changming Mountain. You don’t remember that either, do you?” After a long while, Lin Jianxue suddenly spoke.

Li Ruan looked up, blinking.

“I was heavily injured in the mortal world and nearly died. You just happened to be passing by and saved my life,” Lin Jianxue said. “I asked how you wanted to be repaid. You said you wanted to borrow the spiritual energy of Changming Mountain to cultivate and ascend, and you hoped I could protect this place so you wouldn’t be disturbed.”

Li Ruan was stunned. “So… so all these years you’ve been guarding Changming Mountain because of me?”

“Otherwise?” Lin Jianxue was so exasperated he laughed. “We are neither kith nor kin, yet I dragged you back from that cliff time and again to treat your wounds. You are a red fox and I am a white fox; it’s not like we’re from the same clan.”

“…True.”

Thinking carefully, A-Xue had indeed helped him a lot, but Li Ruan had always been a bit slow and had never seriously thought about the reason why.

Lin Jianxue added, “Three hundred years ago, I asked you why you wanted to ascend.”

Li Ruan’s eyes widened. “I told you?”

“No,” Lin Jianxue said. “You only told me that it was your long-cherished wish and the meaning that supported your life.”

“How unfortunate…” Li Ruan said.

If he had said it back then, A-Xue could have told him now.

“It is unfortunate. I wish I knew too,” Lin Jianxue said. “That way, I wouldn’t have to watch you face life-threatening tribulations time and again, being beaten by heavenly lightning until you were too injured to speak. You turned yourself into this for that wish, and in the end, you can’t even remember why you did it.”

“Ruan-ruan, is that still the meaning that supports your life today?”

Li Ruan’s fingers curled on his knees.

It hadn’t been for a long time.

He didn’t even remember saying those words, let alone anything else.

“But do I not have a chance to choose again?” Li Ruan curled himself up again. “I’ve already extracted his memories and destroyed them.”

This spell was irreversible; that memory orb, once destroyed, was gone and could not be retrieved.

“Don’t look down on mortals too much.” Lin Jianxue gave a faint smile. “If you are truly in his heart, no method can erase you. Even through a thousand reincarnations, you cannot be obliterated, let alone by your tiny spell.”

Li Ruan didn’t speak.

Suddenly, there was a poof inside the cave, and he turned back into a fox.

“So annoying, I can’t figure it out, whine whine!” The little fox clutched its tail and rolled around the cave. For a moment, the cave was filled with his wailing. “I shouldn’t have chosen Jiang Shen back then! Why did he have to be the one to fall down here, ahhhh!”

Lin Jianxue watched the little red fox—which, though it had grown quite a bit, was still round and fluffy, looking like a giant pom-pom when curled up—and sighed with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “That personality of yours…”

To think he was worried Li Ruan would be sad and had come specifically to comfort him.

It seemed he had over-worried.

The fox clearly had plenty of energy.

Lin Jianxue stood up and patted his robes. “That’s all I can say. Think about the rest yourself. I’m going back to sleep.”

Li Ruan had already rolled to the other side of the cave. He propped himself on the ground with his head down and wagged his tail obediently at Lin Jianxue. “Alright, goodnight.”

“…I will think about it carefully.”

He needed some time to consider it well.

Because of Li Ruan’s magic, everything on Changming Mountain had revived overnight, and spring was in the air.

One morning, a bright red shadow darted through the forest, leaped nimbly, and landed lightly on a branch.

The little fox turned around in the tree and transformed into a young man in red. One hand supported himself against the trunk, while the other reached out to pluck a freshly ripened fruit from the branch.

He took a bite with delight.

A dark gray bird flew in from the horizon and landed beside him.

Li Ruan finished the fruit in a few bites, reached out to pluck two more, and shared one with the bird.

“Any new news?” Li Ruan asked.

The little titmouse seemed extremely hungry. It didn’t hurry to answer but lowered its head to peck at the fruit.

Li Ruan poked it. “Tell me! How is the capital?”

The bird glanced at him. “You just want to ask about Jiang Shen. Why ask about the capital?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Li Ruan asked, “How is Jiang Shen?”

“He’s doing great,” the bird said. “Everyone in the capital is talking about him—how he only took less than a month to find the culprit who tried to assassinate him outside the capital. It seems it was some Prince; the Emperor has already ordered him under house arrest.”

Li Ruan thought for a moment. “The Third Prince, Jiang Yan?”

“Maybe.” The bird added, “Even the high officials who were in league with the Third Prince have been found out. They say they’ve all been arrested and are just waiting to be executed.”

Li Ruan nodded. “That’s quite good.”

He had only erased the part of Jiang Shen’s memory regarding himself. Jiang Shen still remembered the assassination attempt on Changming Mountain, sending a decoy south in his stead, and the trap to catch the Governor of Huguang.

However, there would certainly be some memory jumbling.

For example, Jiang Shen wouldn’t remember how he escaped the assassination, nor would he remember how the secret letter that was supposed to be burned had come back.

Because of this, Li Ruan had been worried for a while, wondering if these things would affect Jiang Shen’s revenge.

It seemed that a bit of missing and jumbled memory hadn’t affected him at all.

“He truly is amazing…” Li Ruan whispered in admiration, plucking a few more fruits to share with the titmouse.

Since Jiang Shen left, the one most affected was the little titmouse.

It had been fed by the pawnshop all winter and had even gathered a group of “underlings.” Now that it wasn’t delivering letters, its food source was gone, yet it had dozens of birds to feed. It spent every day rushing around looking for food.

Li Ruan simply had it take its underlings to the capital to help him scout for news, and he would help find food.

The bird took two more pecks of the fruit and said, “By the way, I also heard people say the Emperor is very satisfied with Jiang Shen. He might pass the throne to him early and abdicate to recover from his illness.”

“That’s very good.” Li Ruan looked in a certain direction, though the canopy was too thick to see anything. “He will be a good Emperor.”

The bird looked at him.

It flapped its wings and flew to a higher branch, looking level with Li Ruan. “Li Ruan, do you miss him a lot?”

Li Ruan blinked, his two legs swinging beneath him.

He didn’t speak.

“You do miss him a lot!” the bird said firmly. “Why don’t you go find him? You can go to the mortal world.”

“I…” Li Ruan’s gaze flickered. “I still have to cultivate. I’m busy.”

“Are you really cultivating well?” the bird doubted. “You never used to eat when you cultivated—what was it called… fasting? But you aren’t doing that at all now.”

Li Ruan: “It’s not related to that…”

Li Ruan wasn’t lying; he did want to cultivate seriously.

But for some reason, his cultivation progress had been very slow lately, and he couldn’t even practice the fasting technique properly. He grew hungry faster than back when he had been struck back to his original form.

If he missed a single meal a day, he would be too hungry and weak to do anything.

But the bird didn’t believe him. It firmly believed Li Ruan was just lovesick and had no heart for cultivation. The little bird chirped and argued for a long time until Li Ruan’s head hurt. He quickly plucked some fruits for the bird to take back to its nest.

Then, using cultivation as an excuse, he sent the bird away.

Once the forest was quiet, Li Ruan exhaled, leaped down from the branch, and planned to find a place to meditate.

Whether to choose ascension or Jiang Shen—a month had passed, and Li Ruan still hadn’t found an answer.

He did miss Jiang Shen—really, really missed him.

In the several hundred years of memories Li Ruan had kept, he had never had such a strong, specific urge to see a person. Several times, he had suddenly woken up in the middle of the night from the hay bed Jiang Shen had slept on, wanting to fly to the capital regardless of everything.

With his magic, seeing him wouldn’t even take as long as a cup of tea.

But he was also very unwilling.

He had faced tribulations so many times. He had finally managed to endure over seventy bolts of lightning last time. After a few more decades of cultivation, he should be able to endure it completely.

With success so close, if he gave up now, wouldn’t all his previous suffering have been in vain?

Furthermore, to strengthen his resolve, he had even erased Jiang Shen’s memories.

Regretting it now made his past self look like a fool.

In short, Li Ruan still couldn’t find an answer.

Li Ruan found a relatively quiet spot in the forest and sat cross-legged.

He didn’t know if it was because his mind had been in such a mess lately, but his cultivation progress was extremely slow—he hadn’t made any progress for several days in a row. Compared to the rapid progress he made when Jiang Shen was around, it was like night and day.

Li Ruan didn’t want to think about it anymore. He cleared his mind of distracting thoughts and entered a meditative state.

But he didn’t expect today’s cultivation to be even stranger than before.

The gathered true qi descended from the top of his head, turning into a warm current that slowly flowed through the major and minor meridians, all the way down.

Yet, when it passed a certain spot, it silently dissipated.

Li Ruan opened his eyes. “?”

He lowered his head and looked at the spot where his true qi had disappeared, trying to circulate it again.

This time he gathered even more true qi. The energy slowly sank, but just as it was about to reach his lower abdomen, it vanished without warning.

But this time Li Ruan could feel it—it hadn’t just disappeared; it had been absorbed by something.

Li Ruan rubbed his belly. The thin layer of skin and flesh didn’t feel like anything was inside, but when he pressed down firmly, he could feel a slight distension.

Did I eat too many fruits just now?

Li Ruan thought in bewilderment.