Xiao Jiu

Moonlight poured in from outside the window, coating the floor in a layer of silver frost.

Yun Jingheng lay on the bed, his breathing steady and deep in slumber.

Within his sea of consciousness, the Full Moon hung silently, casting down a soft radiance.

Beside it, the silver fox curled into a ball opened its eyes.

Its pale golden pupils shimmered faintly under the moonlight.

It twitched its ears, then its nose, before slowly standing up; its nine tails unfurled gently like nine wisps of silver smoke.

It looked up at the moon.

Then it lowered its head to look below, where Yun Jingheng's sleeping consciousness lay like a calm lake, reflecting the moonlight.

It took a step and began to walk toward that lake.

Yun Jingheng was dreaming.

In the dream, he had returned to Earth, back to that observatory in the desert.

The telescope was still there, the data was still there, and the three-in-the-morning starry sky was still there.

He sat before the telescope, watching the curves dancing across the screen.

Then, he heard footsteps.

They were very light, very soft, like paw pads treading on sand.

He turned his head.

A silver fox stood behind him, its nine tails swaying gently, its pale blue eyes fixed on him.

"You—"

Yun Jingheng froze.

The little fox tilted its head, then spoke, its voice as young and delicate as a little girl's:

"This place is better than that pitch-black place."

Yun Jingheng: "..."

"When did you wake up?"

"Just now."

It looked up at the sky, but there was no sky here, only the endless starry expanse.

"Do you have a moon here, too?"

Yun Jingheng was silent for a moment, then pointed toward the observatory dome in the distance: "Does that count?"

The little fox took a look and shook its head: "That one is fake."

It looked at Yun Jingheng, its gaze as serious as a little adult.

"It's here."

It raised a front paw and pointed at Yun Jingheng's chest.

Yun Jingheng looked down at his own chest, then back at the little fox before him.

"What is your name?"

The little fox tilted its head to think: "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No one ever gave me a name."

It said, "Mother called me Xiao Jiu, but she died."

When it said this, its tone was very calm, so calm it didn't sound like a child who had lost its parent.

He sat down beside the little fox and looked at the starry sky in the distance.

"Then you can be called Xiao Jiu from now on."

The little fox turned its head to look at him.

"Don't lose the name your mother gave you."

The little fox was silent for a long time.

Then it gave a soft "mm," and rested its head on his knee.

Its nine tails curled over, wrapping around both him and itself.

It was fluffy and very warm.

"This place really is better than that pitch-black place," it said again, its voice muffled.

Yun Jingheng reached out and rubbed its head.

"Then stay a while longer."

"Mm."

Early morning.

Yun Jingheng opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling for three seconds.

That dream last night had been too realistic.

Subconsciously, he sank into his sea of consciousness—

That Full Moon was still there, hanging silently.

Beside it, a silver fox was curled up asleep, its nine tails wrapped around itself like a ball.

But its ears twitched.

Then, it opened one eye and glanced at him.

"Morning."

That youthful voice echoed in his mind.

Yun Jingheng: "...?"

It really woke up?

He sat up, looking at the fox in his sea of consciousness, momentarily at a loss for words.

The little fox looked back at him.

Man and fox stared at each other for five seconds.

"What are you spacing out for?" the little fox asked.

Yun Jingheng took a deep breath: "I was thinking about what to call you from now on."

"Xiao Jiu."

"Should I call you that in front of others, too?"

The little fox thought for a moment: "Just call my name in your heart. I can hear it."

Yun Jingheng fell silent for a moment: "...So, from now on, you can hear everything I think?"

"I can."

"..."

The little fox rolled over, shifting into a more comfortable position, "I can't be bothered to listen to your messy thoughts."

"I only listen when you call me."

Yun Jingheng breathed a sigh of relief.

"However," the little fox added, "if you encounter danger or your emotions fluctuate too wildly, I will be able to hear you."

"Is that considered a passive skill?"

"What is a passive skill?"

"Nothing."

Yun Jingheng threw off the quilt, got out of bed, and walked to the window.

Outside, the sky had already brightened.

The training grounds in the distance were empty, and the sunlight spilled down, warming the ground until it was slightly hot.

He suddenly remembered something.

"Xiao Jiu."

"Hm?"

"Can you come out? Not from the sea of consciousness, but into the outside world."

The little fox was silent for a moment.

"I can, but not for too long."

"Why?"

"Because I am your soul spirit."

Its voice carried a hint of matter-of-factness, "I am one with you. Staying outside for too long will consume your soul power."

Yun Jingheng understood.

"Then when can you come out?"

"When you become stronger."

The little fox said, "When you are strong enough to support me."

Yun Jingheng: "..."

Why did that sound so strange?

In the days that followed, Yun Jingheng gained a companion for his cultivation.

Xiao Jiu spent most of its time sleeping in his spiritual sea, but it would occasionally wake up to watch him practice his swordsmanship.

"That strike of yours was too slow."

"That strike was off-center."

"You have enough power in that strike, but the angle is wrong."

Yun Jingheng finally couldn't take it anymore: "Fine, fine, if you're so good, you do it."

A silver light shot out from between his brows and landed beside him.

The Nine-Tailed Frost Moon Fox, manifesting in its physical form.

With pale golden pupils and silver-white fur, its nine tails swayed gently in the morning light, faint frost crystals coalescing at their tips.

The temperature on the training ground plummeted.

Yun Jingheng stared at it, stunned.

This was the first time it had truly appeared before him.

Not a phantom within his spiritual sea, but a real, tangible soul beast.

"What are you looking at?"

Xiao Jiu tilted its head. "Didn't you want me to show you?"

It raised a front paw and gave a light flick.

A silver-white crescent blade flew from its claw tips, faster, sharper, and colder than any Crescent Slash he had ever unleashed.

The humanoid target thirty meters away was sliced clean in two.

The cross-section was as smooth as a mirror, covered in a thin layer of frost.

Yun Jingheng fell silent.

The little fox retracted its claw and looked back at him.

"Did you see that clearly?"

Yun Jingheng nodded.

"Then continue your practice."

With that, it transformed into a streak of silver light and dove back into his brow.

It left behind a patch of frost and a six-year-old "child" who was questioning his entire existence.

Two years later.

Yun Jingheng was eight years old.

By the shores of Sea God Lake, he stood at the water's edge, gripping the Moonlight Sword.

The blade was a pale silver, ethereal and faint, as if he were holding a solidified beam of moonlight.

He closed his eyes.

The wind blew in from the lake, fluttering the hem of his robes.

The crescent-shaped Moonlight Mark between his brows glowed faintly.

Inside his spiritual sea, Xiao Jiu lay prone, its tails swaying gently.

"Left."

Yun Jingheng didn't move.

"Right."

Still, he didn't move.

"Front."

He remained motionless.

Just as Xiao Jiu was about to speak again, Yun Jingheng suddenly moved.

He swung his sword, and a Crescent Slash shot out—not toward the front, but behind him.

High in a tree thirty meters away, a spying avian soul beast fell to the ground, a faint Moonlight Mark glowing on its body.

The next second, Yun Jingheng appeared before it.

The tip of his sword stopped three inches from the bird's throat.

The bird was frozen stiff with terror, unable to move a muscle.

Yun Jingheng glanced at it and sheathed his sword.

"Go."

The birds flapped their wings and flew away without looking back.

Xiao Jiu let out a huff within the spiritual sea.

"Not bad."

Yun Jingheng sheathed his sword and gazed at the lake surface.

Two years had passed.

His soul power had grown steadily, his mastery of the Moonlight Sword had become increasingly refined, and he could now cast Crescent Slash instantly, blindly, or even fire three strikes simultaneously.

He could now trigger the pursuit of the Moonlight Mark more than ten times in a single battle without feeling fatigued.

His control over the Lunar Phase Flow had also shifted from its initial passive triggering to active guidance.

Although he could not yet do as he pleased, at the very least, he knew how to enter the New Moon, the Crescent Moon, and the Full Moon states.

As for the Blood Moon—

He had tried it twice.

The first time, just after he turned seven, he wanted to force himself into the Blood Moon state to see what it felt like.

The moment he touched that threshold, a surge of violent emotion flooded his heart, and he nearly lost control.

Xiao Jiu was startled awake at the time, and a frigid aura descended, forcibly dragging him out of that state.

"Are you insane?"

It rarely cursed, but it snapped, "Is that something you can touch?"

Yun Jingheng lay on the ground, gasping for air, unable to speak for a long time.

The second time was on his eighth birthday.

He hadn't touched it intentionally; it was a full moon night, and after fighting in the Full Moon state for too long, he had begun to transition automatically toward the Blood Moon.

This time, he didn't lose control.

He clearly felt that power—violent, bloodthirsty, and insane, yet so potent and so alluring.

He suppressed it.

Or rather, Xiao Jiu helped him suppress it.

"It's still too early."

It said, "Wait until you are older, and stronger."

Three days later.

The homeroom teacher of the Shrek Inner Court Genius Class appeared by the shores of Sea God Lake with five students in tow.

"Jingheng."

The teacher was a man in his early twenties, a Titled Douluo, his tone polite and formal.

Yun Jingheng looked at the group before him, then glanced at Yun Ming standing under a tree in the distance, and roughly understood the situation.

"Hello, Brother Lan."

Lan Muzi smiled and got straight to the point:

"I would like for the students in my class to spar with you."

He paused, then added:

"Of course, you may refuse."

Yun Jingheng's gaze fell upon the five students.

The oldest looked to be eleven or twelve, while the youngest was about his age, around eight.

Five pairs of eyes stared back, filled with curiosity, scrutiny, eagerness, and a trace of barely perceptible... defiance.

He smiled.

Two years.

For two years, he had been training with the elders of the Sea God Pavilion, with the little fox, and with himself.

He had never once crossed blades with his peers.

"Alright," he said.

The Moonlight Sword coalesced in his hand, its blade pale silver, appearing almost ethereal.

"Who among you... will go first?"