After dinner, darkness had settled completely over the mountain valley. Unlike previous evenings when countless stars painted the sky, tonight an oppressive blanket of clouds obscured everything. Most ominously, from the direction where Qianhe and his imperial escort had traveled, distant flashes of lightning illuminated the darkness while thunder rumbled across the peaks.
Lin Jiu stood at the dojo's entrance, studying the approaching storm with growing unease.
"Junior Brother Simu, Brother Gustave," he called out, his voice tight with concern, "this weather bodes ill. I fear for Qianhe's safety tonight."
"Senior Brother, I share your apprehension," Simu agreed, emerging from his equipment room with arms full of supernatural implements. "Something feels profoundly wrong about this evening."
"Fellow Taoist," Gustave said seriously, "since we all sense impending danger, why don't the three of us pursue Qianhe's group together? If trouble arises, we can provide immediate assistance. If all remains peaceful, we can return at dawn."
The logic was sound, but Gustave's true concern ran deeper. Prince Jingwu had been no ordinary royal—his exceptional character and iron will in life would make him a formidable opponent if supernatural corruption claimed him. In the original timeline, even Simu's divine summoning techniques had barely contained such a threat.
Their brief interaction during the day had revealed Qianhe's fundamental decency, though his feudal loyalty to the Qing throne remained absolute. Despite Gustave's belief that the dynasty deserved historical oblivion, Qianhe himself merited protection—both for his own sake and out of respect for Lin Jiu's fraternal bonds.
"Brother Gustave speaks wisely," Lin Jiu declared with decision. "Junior Brother, gather your equipment. We depart immediately to aid Fourth Brother Qianhe."
"Right away, Senior Brother!" Simu rushed to collect yellow paper talismans, peachwood swords, Money Swords, and every zombie-restraining implement in his substantial arsenal.
As they completed their preparations and instructed Jiale to guard the dojo, Master Ikkyu appeared in the courtyard, having noticed their urgent activity.
"Fellow Taoist, where are you bound in such haste?"
Since Simu would never deign to answer his rival directly, Lin Jiu provided the explanation. "We're concerned for Junior Brother Qianhe's safety, Master Ikkyu. We intend to overtake his group and offer assistance if needed."
"Then please wait—I'll accompany you!" Ikkyu said without hesitation.
Despite their petty rivalry, the Buddhist monk's fundamental compassion was genuine. Having witnessed Prince Jingwu's funeral procession earlier, he understood the potential supernatural implications as clearly as any Taoist.
"Brother Ikkyu," Gustave interjected diplomatically, "three pursuers should suffice for overtaking Qianhe. Perhaps you should remain here—if danger manifests, Jiale and Qingqing might prove insufficient guardians alone."
While Gustave felt confident in handling whatever zombie Prince Jingwu might become—increasing electrical voltage had solved most of his supernatural problems so far—something else troubled him. For days now, his instincts had warned of surveillance from hidden watchers. His Observation Haki detected nothing concrete, yet the sensation persisted.
That nagging sixth sense, combined with memories of the original timeline where both masters' absence had left their disciples vulnerable to attack, made leaving a capable defender behind seem prudent.
"Your counsel is sound," Ikkyu agreed after brief consideration. "I'll maintain watch here. Travel safely, my friends."
After exchanging farewells, the three Taoists set out into the storm-threatened night. Both Lin Jiu and Simu possessed the martial arts skills and spiritual techniques necessary for rapid overland travel—their movement through the mountainous terrain resembled flight more than running.
Gustave prepared to suggest they accelerate further by allowing him to carry them via electromagnetic manipulation when a figure materialized directly in their path.
"Hahaha," a melodious but dangerous voice called out, "what has you three in such desperate haste?"
The speaker was breathtakingly beautiful—a woman draped in flowing red silk that seemed to ripple with inner fire. Her perfect features and graceful bearing would have entranced any mortal man, but the supernatural power radiating from her essence marked her as something far beyond human.
This was Tu Shanyan, the six-tailed fox demon who had been tracking them since the night of Lin Jiu's precipitous action against her kin.
Tu Shanyan had originally planned immediate retaliation after discovering their location, intending to capture all three and drag them to Maoshan for formal justice. However, something about Gustave had given her pause—despite his apparently human appearance, he emanated an energy that made her ancient instincts scream warnings.
For days she had observed them carefully, trying to identify the source of that unsettling power. Only when Gustave had begun gathering his strength for rapid travel had she finally recognized the familiar sensation: thunder and lightning, concentrated to an almost divine level.
Armed with that knowledge, her confidence had returned. Thunder was merely another form of energy, something she had encountered and survived before.
"Honored Fairy," Lin Jiu said with careful courtesy, recognizing both the being's supernatural nature and her obvious aristocratic bearing, "we three seek only to reach our junior brother. We humbly request passage."
Tu Shanyan's perfectly sculpted features bore neither demonic corruption nor malevolent aura. Indeed, the spiritual energy surrounding her suggested official recognition by the celestial bureaucracy—she was likely a legitimate fox immortal of royal bloodline, entitled to respectful address from mortal practitioners.
"Hahaha," she laughed again, covering her mouth with one delicate hand. "How amusing! Maoshan Taoists murder my people, then expect to continue their journey unimpeded?"
"Honored Lady," Lin Jiu said with confusion, "when have we harmed your kindred?"
"Others may fear Maoshan's reputation," Tu Shanyan declared, her voice hardening, "but I, Tu Shanyan, am not so easily intimidated."
Upon hearing the surname, understanding dawned in Lin Jiu's eyes. "Tu Shan" clearly identified her as fox royalty of the highest order.
"Lady Tu Shan," he said with increased formality, "you represent the royal fox clan, blessed with heaven's recognition as legitimate immortals. While I did slay a fox spirit, she had first kidnapped my junior brother's client—"
His words were meant to establish moral justification while acknowledging the vast difference in status between a six-tailed royal and a common transformed fox.
"Nonsense!" Tu Shanyan's laughter turned sharp and dangerous. "Though my clan-sister erred, did she actually harm your junior brother? You executed her without trial—how is this not the height of arrogance?"
As she spoke, her gorgeous features took on a predatory cast that promised terrible vengeance.
Merde, Gustave thought with growing alarm as he reviewed that night's events. Lin Jiu acted too quickly. In the original timeline, Simu killed the fox spirit because she had revealed murderous intent. But this time, Lin Jiu struck before any real harm occurred—he simply saw Simu being seduced and reacted in anger.
From any objective perspective, Lin Jiu's intervention had indeed been excessive. The fox spirit had been eliminated before demonstrating actual malice, making the Taoist's action appear brutally premature.
"This... this..." Lin Jiu stammered, Tu Shanyan's accusation forcing him to confront uncomfortable truths. Upon reflection, his behavior that night had been driven more by fury at seeing Simu compromised than by genuine necessity.
He had indeed acted too hastily, allowing emotion to override proper judgment. The realization left him struggling for justification that simply didn't exist.