Anyone watching this scene would be unable to process what they had just witnessed, and for a good reason. There were two very peculiar aspects about what had just unfolded.

Firstly, a fox finding its meal disgusting. Is something like this even possible? Foxes, and every other predator, spend their entire lives eating meat. Every day, they wake up, hunt, and eat. It's what keeps them alive. It's what brings any meaning to their existence.

And no matter how many times they eat, they never feel inconvenienced by their food. It's not as if animals have an extremely curated sense of taste, capable of sensing the small peculiarities of every meal they have. They also don't mind eating the same thing over and over again.

For animals, unlike humans, eating is simply a formality. Something required to give them energy and keep them alive. Humans turned the act of eating into a celebration, a method of deriving pleasure and improving their mood.

This is not the case for wildlife. In fact, wild animals don't have the luxury to act in this sort of manner. If they had to eat the same thing for their entire life, they would. Being picky would only lead them to starve to death. They would eat what they could gather and never complain about it.

Food was food at the end of the day. Having ample access to it was a luxury in the animal world. You never knew when the next time you would get to eat would be. So you made sure to make every meal count. As people say, hunger is the best seasoning for food.

So it was extremely weird seeing a fox repulsed by the meal it was eating. This would not only imply some sort of conscious thought from its part, with it having developed some sort of preferences in its way of eating, but also that, for some reason, rabbit meat seemed to not be included in those same preferences.

This was quite peculiar. It would be more understandable if the fox was eating some sort of weird animal, with extremely pungent meat. However, this was a rabbit. In terms of wild game, you couldn't get much better than that.

And yet the fox found it disgusting. It would feel weird to even mention it out loud.

However, even with how weird all of the above was, it could still be explained by the peculiarity of this particular fox. Perhaps it had a higher level of intelligence and a more attuned sense of taste, allowing it to develop its own taste preferences.

And perhaps, those taste preferences simply differed from the norm. Maybe it preferred some of the more unusual meats instead. Maybe this particular rabbit had especially foul-tasting meat. As unlikely as they sounded, they were possible ways to explain the circumstances.

What was most surprising of all was the murmuring of the fox. No, that murmur wasn't simply a sort of representation of the fox's inner feelings; it was an actual, real murmur.

The muscles in the fox's throat contracted, albeit somewhat awkwardly, and produced a sound that represented actual human speech.

It was hard to believe.

Sure, considering how mysterious everything in this world was, people had mostly become numb to things like this. Qi was such a magical property that could make the seemingly impossible possible. If you were to feel surprised at every little unusual thing you saw unfolding in front of you, you would spend the rest of your life questioning your sanity.

Usually, if there was something people, mortals in particular, couldn't understand, they wouldn't think too deeply about it. They simply accepted the reality in front of them and moved on.

This might seem like a very counterproductive method of dealing with things, leading to the acceptance and spread of wrong information, as, in a lot of cases, it would never be put into the scrutiny of various tests to ascertain its veracity.

And you'd be correct in thinking that way. Myths and legends dominated the mortal world. One-time encounters taken and generalized into regular knowledge. It ended up leading to a very crude understanding of the world around them.

However, conversely, it made sense if you considered the type of world these people lived in. In this world, there was no luxury for you to scrutinize and question everything you saw in front of you. If you witnessed a ghost running towards you, you would not go towards and try to find out all the possible reasons for such a phenomenon. That would lead to your death.

Trying to question every single thing you came across usually led to disaster. It happened many times in the past. A more skeptical man, faced with an unknown situation, would try to dig deeper and verify what, why, and how it was happening, only to end with his head rolling on the ground.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

It was a defensive way of viewing things. It created clear boundaries for people to respect. Sure, they might be closed off in their little bubble, never truly knowing how the world around them worked, but they would at least be safe.

Unless there was some sort of benefit waiting for them, most people would not risk doubting what was in front of them. Of course, this depended on the individual, but overall, most people acted that way, at least when it came to mortals. Their lives were too feeble and weak for them to meddle in such affairs.

Cultivators worked a little differently. As they advanced in their cultivation journey, the increase of their power usually accompanied by the growth of their arrogance. As they got stronger and stronger, the bolder they became.

When they saw themselves growing far beyond everything around them, capable of trashing anything they wished with no more than two fingers, their respect for the world around them would obviously start decreasing. This would start breeding a feeling of contempt.

This contempt for the world around them, fueled by their arrogance, would lead them to act in extremely unrestrained ways. Everyone and everything outside of their own power ranking was simply not worth considering. They existed to be used by them and fuel their path to greater heights.

This type of behavior was a double-edged sword.

In certain scenarios, this extra courage allowed them to take the last step required to overcome their doubts and move forward. By believing themselves untouchable, they wouldn't think twice about heading into dangerous places. What could possibly hurt them? Anything that stood in their way would just be crushed under their iron fist. They would all serve as stepping stones for their own story.

There were several stories of men whose lives changed because they risked venturing into these dangerous places and got massive rewards to show for it.

However, this was also a massive flaw.

It made them more naive and impulsive. This feeling of invincibility would lead to many tragedies. Because they lowered their guard and got caught off guard. Because they believed that the enemy in front of them was not worth considering, only for them to be crushed by their overwhelming power. Because they fell for a trap or formation that had been laid to protect the treasure.

Many were the tales of cultivators losing their lives in these situations. In fact, there were far more tales of failures than successes.

However, this didn't seem to shake the way cultivators thought. Why? Because all of them thought that they were different. That they were destined for greatness. That where others failed, they would succeed. That's how most cultivators thought.

Obviously, the fact that only the stories of those successful in their dangerous endeavors were disseminated and spread, whereas the tales of those who failed would simply be lost to time.

And so, they moved forward, without a shred of fear. Living their lives like shooting stars, shining brightly throughout all their existence but, usually, burning themselves out. Some may find it foolish, others might find it endearing.

All in all, both mortals and cultivators reacted to things differently. However, these differences were all based on a single common point between both. And that was that, most of the time, they didn't find anything particularly surprising.

Qi was capable of making everything they could imagine possible, so they simply didn't question it. Mortals out of fear for their lives and cultivators due to the ingrained arrogance and contempt for everything that they deemed beneath them.

However, this scene would have puzzled both cultivators and mortals alike.

And that was because, unlike everything else mentioned above, Qi wasn't in any way related to what was happening.

Qi was indeed capable of giving animals the ability to speak. As beasts progressed further along their cultivation path, their strength wouldn't be the only thing increasing; their intelligence would as well. After they reached a certain level, they would become intelligent enough to communicate in a human language.

However, that fox was normal. It had no abnormal Qi development from any sort of cultivation training. It was just a regular animal.

So how was it able to speak? What was going on exactly? Those would be the questions on anyone's mind had they been here observing.

Seemingly unaware of how weird its behavior was, the fox continued.

After every bite, its face would twist into a frown. Sometimes, it would even gag and spit out whatever was in its mouth. However, in the end, the fox would painfully force the food down every time. The pieces it threw up were no exception. Regardless of how many tries it took, all the chunks of food it took would end up in its stomach.

After every piece swallowed, a period of respite would follow. The little fox, seemingly trying to compose itself, would look up at the sky for a while. Probably trying its hardest to forget the taste of what it had forced down its own throat.

Though it was easier said than done. The lingering stench and taste of the meat lasted for a long while in its mouth, constantly reminding it of what it had just eaten. Only after several minutes went by was it finally ready for its next bite.

Actually, "ready" wasn't quite the right word. "Resigned" would be more fitting.

It was hard to watch, almost as if I was subjecting myself to a form of self-inflicted torture. Each bite was a relentless assault on its senses, its entire being rejecting whatever was entering its mouth. Like a man forcing himself to drink poison, knowing full well it would kill him.

This process continued unabated. By the time the rabbit had been fully consumed, the moon had already slipped away from the sky, its luminescent presence replaced by the radiant emergence of the sun.

And as for the fox, it remained exactly where it had been for the entire night, steadfast and unwavering in its position. Not a single step had been taken through the entire night, as if rooted to the spot by an invisible force.

Its expression, though, showed a refreshing change. It was the same expression someone who had finally stumbled upon an oasis would display after being lost for days in the scorching desert.

Relief.