Chapter Thirty-Seven: Preparations in Green Hill

Early October.

Though winter had only just begun and even the season of Light Snow was still distant, Fox Mountain had already been thoroughly immersed in snow. The rolling hills lay like silver palaces, crowned by a deep, heavy sky.

With such a snowfall, this year’s long winter would surely be hard for Qingqiu to endure.

The demon clans had never been adept at farming, and after a recent defeat, the national treasury was left depleted—misfortune upon misfortune, as the saying goes.

Yet, much like the Great Zhou, Qingqiu had stood for centuries. Such a vast and ancient demon kingdom would not be shaken to its core by mere turbulence, though the common folk would surely suffer harder days.

Su Zhiqiu made her way through the drifting snow on her journey to meet the Grandmaster. Strangely, she found herself almost heartened by their defeat—more precisely, their defeat at the hands of Pei Xiunian.

It was not that she harbored any strange inclinations, nor any particular thoughts about Pei Xiunian.

Rather, had anyone else been in his place, Qingqiu would have fared far worse. The court officials of Great Zhou cared nothing for the lives of their border soldiers; in their eyes, only profit mattered.

They would have gladly sacrificed countless soldiers in a siege, as long as it meant burying two hundred thousand demon troops and bringing Qingqiu to ruin.

Even supposing Qingqiu’s supply lines had not been cut, the outcome might not have been much better.

Xiangyang was indeed a stronghold, difficult to attack and easy to defend—but only for the Zhou in the heartlands. Had Qingqiu seized it, they could never have spent the winter in peace in the eastern Cloud River.

Marching north would mean facing the desperate Xiliang army, backed by the garrison at Hangzhou. Taking Hangzhou would not be easy; many would perish in the cold.

Thanks to Pei Xiunian, however, Qingqiu’s forces suffered little loss, which explained the lack of both fervor and resentment among the people.

War is a cruel affair; the longer it drags on, the quicker the blood of would-be heroes cools.

For the common folk, it was happiness enough that their brothers, fathers, and husbands had returned home alive. A little less food was better than eternal parting by death.

Pei Xiunian’s decisions marked him as one unlike those ruthless courtiers who climbed over corpses to power.

It was his character that gave Su Zhiqiu the confidence to propose entering Great Zhou herself.

“Why do you wish to return to Great Zhou?”

At her side, the tall fox queen glanced down at her. Her voice was as cold and unfamiliar as the snow.

Su Zhiqiu raised her head to look at this statuesque queen, her legs long and graceful.

Within the queen’s cool red eyes flashed an unearthly light, echoing the stark white of her hair.

She was a woman in whom the seduction of the fox demon and the icy authority of a ruler mingled perfectly, not a hint out of place—if anything, each quality heightened the other.

Seeing Su Zhiqiu’s silence, the queen spoke again. “There are only the two of us here. Will you not even speak of it to me?”

She knew Su Zhiqiu’s nature well; it was precisely because of her calm and judicious temperament that she’d chosen her as Qingqiu’s successor.

Her proposal to enter Great Zhou was highly unusual, but the queen did not believe it sprang from resentment—especially since the true culprit, the third prince of Zhou, had already been slain by her hand.

Su Zhiqiu hesitated, pondering for a moment before shaking her delicate head. Her fox ears swayed with the movement. “Forgive me, Mother.”

At these words, the queen asked no more. She lifted her hand, and the array beneath their feet flared to life. Only when the grand stone gate to the blessed land shone forth did she bow.

Su Zhiqiu bowed with her. After a moment of silence, the marvelous cave paradise opened once more.

The two foxes entered the palace, bowing respectfully toward the enormous white fox deep within. “Grandmaster.”

Beneath the crystalline vault, the white fox shook itself and opened eyes as large as lanterns, fixing its gaze upon Su Zhiqiu.

“The omens have changed,” the fox intoned. “You may enter Great Zhou. I can cleanse your demon aura and help you disguise yourself. But once you reach the capital, you must proceed with the utmost caution.”

The princess and the queen exchanged a glance. Even before they had spoken a word, the Grandmaster had already divined their intentions.

Before they could react—before the queen could even scold her audacious daughter for daring to venture alone into the capital—the Grandmaster lifted a paw and gestured at her.

Then, he tapped the jade floor before him, signaling Su Zhiqiu to approach.

She dared not delay, stepping forward. Facing the vast white fox at such close range, she could not help but feel a tremor of fear.

The Grandmaster regarded her, so small she could barely wedge between his teeth, and asked, “Are you certain you wish to undertake such peril? The signs bode far more ill than good.”

“And the fortunes of Great Zhou remain at their height. If you go to slay the dragon, I advise you to abandon such thoughts—the dynasty is far from collapse.”

Slay the dragon?

Su Zhiqiu was startled. She merely wished to see Pei Xiunian, perhaps speak of an alliance, or at the very least do everything in her power to stop him from persuading the court to attack Qingqiu alongside Jin Xia.

How could this be called slaying the dragon?

Yet the Grandmaster’s divination was beyond doubt.

Did this, then, confirm what Pei Xiunian intended? Was he truly the one set to seize the empire, the would-be dragonslayer?

Such a man must have been plotting for years, pouring his efforts into the Zhou dynasty. Was it truly wise for her to meet him?

But if she did not, a man of such ambition would not hesitate to use Qingqiu as a stepping stone.

To meet him was for the sake of Qingqiu’s future.

Steadying her heart, Su Zhiqiu finally made her decision. She bowed deeply and replied, “Grandmaster, I do not seek to slay the dragon. I wish only to secure the foundation of Qingqiu.”

The giant fox held his paw aloft, studying her. After a pause, a jade pendant flew from a colossal bronze cauldron at his side and fastened itself to Su Zhiqiu’s belt.

He said, “Go, but do not forget yourself. Do not overstep your bounds. And remember—never part with this jade.”

As the pendant’s light swept over her, Su Zhiqiu’s fox ears and tail vanished in an instant. The innate allure in her features faded as well, replaced by the gentle grace of a noble lady.

She dropped to her knees in gratitude. “Thank you, Grandmaster!”

The Grandmaster watched the two foxes depart the cave; then, with a flick of his paw, the array sealed the sanctuary once more.

The great doors boomed shut, and peace returned to the cave. Bathed in blue light, the Grandmaster murmured, “Such an intricate fate. Great Zhou is about to become lively once again.”

With that, the giant fox licked his paw, lowered his head, and settled comfortably, half-closing his eyes as his breathing grew slow and even.