Silky chirped, sitting on Yung’s nose. He felt the sadness radiating from the critter through their soul contract. The foxmoth had never met Yung’s parents, but his shrine was located barely a few feet away from their graves.

Yung's grandpa, Youjin Bao, would always get drunk, crying and reminiscing about his daughter whom he had raised by himself, and his son-in-law, the cheeky madlander brat that used to clean the jade slip store and had the gall to seduce the apple of his eyes. Every year this day came around, Yung had to carry the old man back as he sang eulogies for their departed family.

Today would mark the thirteenth year since Yung had become an orphan. It had been awfully lonely. He missed his family dearly.

The boy looked at the small golden fox struggling to wake up. Not because he was using her as a plushie, but because it was yet not daybreak, and this vixen was a late riser.

“We shall not succumb to sleep.” Nyanya mewled.

“Where’s Floofy?” Yung asked Silky, who sent a mental image of a fluffy grey fox strolling through the market square with a large backpack.

“Kii!”

Floofy went to buy flowers, paper money, and incense.

Yung laughed, "How thoughtful." He had three foxes he could call friends now. Four if he counted Su Yafeng. But Miss Maid wanted to take the day off, and no threats Su Nanya made worked.

A sharp pain pierced his heart, but with a few more breaths, it passed by like the spring breeze. Yes, he missed his parents. The ones who died, and the ones who were left behind on Gaia. He missed his siblings, nieces, and nephews too.

But he just knew he’d meet many new friends in this cruel yet amazing world.

Yung poked Su Nanya's belly; the golden maiden had turned back into a yao as she stretched her dainty arms with an adorable yawn.

“Dear me. Such cold a morn.” She smiled, drowsy tears in her eyes. Yung beamed back.

Maybe he could have a new family too.

***

Ling kicked the round ‘football’ straight into the net, and a bamboo whistle rang out.

"Goal! The score is 4 to 1," said the referee, one of her fiendhunting buddies. He then called out the time left, "30 breaths."

The opposite team, made of madlander youths around her age, tried their best to get in at least one more goal in that half a minute. They had scored the opening shot, but with Ling’s superior gymnastics and her team’s honed coordination, they were able to pull the rug from under them.

Ling loved football, this beautiful game. It was a spiritual experience, where the rules of the ‘battle’ were laid bare on parchment, and all she had to do was kick!

Yet despite that, she didn't know what to feel about the game's creator.

“Times up. Silver sparrows win.”

Her teammates cheered. There were pats on the back and plans for another match a few days later. The players here were all of age and were part of one fiendhunting group or another, each awakened either in spirit or body. There weren’t many of them compared to the whole madlander youth population, but they were all Ling’s friends.

As for the unawakened, they had their own plays in different fields. Ziyou Yung was right in this regard, when he stressed that it would be unfair to play against them.

Ling had tried; it was boring. And no better than bullying, sullying the spirit of this lifewide sport. If, though, any non-hunter but awakened madlander wanted to play, she was fine to show them who was boss.

After all, the more the merrier.

Ling bade her friends farewell and headed for the waste weir at the mouth of the red hole. They would be breaking it down today. Since after Ziyou Yung had somehow forced the Youjin clan to finally pay more attention to the madlanders, the waste weir and junk heaps lining the slum roads became the first thing to go.

That was definitely blackmail. Why're Pa and everyone else acting all okay? Scammed by the fox clan my ass!

Waste from the fiend butchery was no longer thrown into the dirt stream. People were saying that, at this rate, the stream would be renamed. There was discontent from the ones that based their living off of the weir, but the Youjin clan and her father promised the angry mob that they would be given better jobs soon enough.

Usually, we’d beat them until they stopped complaining.

The waste from the fiend butchery was now carted off by boat upstream, towards the Dim gold lake. Where it would then be taken underground to the farming caverns. The Youjin clan had plans to expand their paddy fields twofold, in the south and in the east too. This was never considered a viable option before; the upfront investment alone would be astronomical. And for what? The betterment of the madlanders?

Yung had used a stick and a carrot, and now the whole town was dancing in his paws. Pa included. The paddy fields would expand, the homes would be repaired, and kids won't get skin demons from bathing in the stream water.

"We're doin' it in the count of three, ey? The weir's crumblin'!" Ling heard a voice.

"Keep at it, lads and lassies! Thirty stumps be left. No, you numb-wit, the left, pull'em from the left."

“Aye, like that. Steady, steady. Careful o’the splash.”

These were the folks who protested a few days ago. Now they were merrily breaking the weir down, laughing and smiling.

"I'll give ye a hand!" Ling shouted. She rolled up her trousers. It was a leather garb with painted animals and flowers, contouring her hips beneath the madlander skirt she donned. She wore a short-sleeved upper wear above her navel; it was loose and spacey.

Robes never suited her. She only wore those complicated prisons faking to be clothes on special occasions.

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Ling jumped down into the mud and waddled her way to the group. A madlander man handed her a hammer, grinning.

“When do you leave?” Ling asked.

"They'll be shippin' us by next thirdsday." Replied the man. He had an axe and, with a heavy grunt, chopped at the bottom of one of the weir posts. Ling spotted the metal nets left on the bank; they had already been removed and would be salvaged for some extra coin.

"The missus is expecting, though," Continued the man. "An' that nose-crunching Youjin fella said we'd get houses with new thatch that can cool itself in summer. Nice fella, that guy."

“What’s that?” Ling pointed at one of the animal paintings drawn on the man’s shirt. He, and most other madlanders, wore sun-dried madlander leather just like her.

The animal painting was of a fox-like creature rolling upside down on the western circumference of a blue circle.

Ling knew this. She wanted to ask why?

"This?" The man stretched that part of his shirt to spread it out, "Me daughter finger painted it. Says the Fortune fox gives us yummy food every day." The man laughed, "She ain't wrong."

“That she ain’t.” Ling echoed with a complicated heart.

The work progressed, and by the afternoon, the weir had been demolished. There was a loud cheer, some sombre but more joyful. A tradition of centuries gone just like that. But not without a promise of a new beginning.

Ling did not know how to feel.

They brought out fresh fiendmeat to grill. Pickled greens and moonshine from forest fruits joined the charcoal too. They made a bonfire by the shore. They danced and sang, about the mad heavens and about their new home in white town. Ling joined in, letting her emotions loose. By the time the party ended, a few new pairs were formed, and the older couples egged them on.

The evening was hot, and the couples were leaving for a night of fun. Some ugly new brats would probably see the light of day this time next year.

How envious… Chao, that stinky bastard.

She wondered if she should grab a man too. After all, the more the merrier.

She rose up, her mood worsening.

Liar. Stupid mug. When the boy finally moved to the slums a year ago, unshed tears trapped behind his red eyes, Ling secretly rejoiced at his misfortune. Good riddance, that Youjin Chun was as haughty as they get.

Now was her chance! Years of a crush since she was seven, so she would not miss this opportunity. She moved, warred, and fought like mad. And with a few sweet words, she then completely let herself go.

She took him in and let him cry. Inside, upon her soul. And how amazing it was, that wondrous but painful night. She said to herself, she wouldn't really mind if Chao had other side women. If he wanted to leave for this Violet Horn continent, that was fine too. She wouldn't mind….

Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

After that night, nothing she'd said and done worked. The boy was a jagged rock bent on revenge. Bent on proving himself to who knows what.

Yet he never let her truly go either. Every time she'd try to move away, he would show just the right amount of affection for her to think, as she felt right now. Maybe he’ll change. Maybe it’ll take time.

Ling stopped in her tracks.

Maybe having a few brats could solve the problem? Not like Pa minds… But ain't it a true man who don't hesitate?

After all, the more the merrier.

Ling could care less about the sect recruitments. She would only participate because she wanted to follow Youjin Chao. To some sect, to some other region. To the Violet Horn continent.

Do I really? I'll miss Pa. Damnit, I dunno anymore!

Youjin Chao would definitely leave for his revenge or whatever.

After a quick dip in the red hole, Ling ran to her hut. It was something she built herself a few years back after she’d turned sixteen and moved out from her old man’s place.

She changed into another set of clothes. These were made from softer fur and fiendskin. Not many could afford them in the slums, but it was something she had an alchemist refine for extra qi conductivity.

Ling then took out a scroll from one of the cabinets. On it were the designs for a newer hut.

A home.

The first time she made her hut, it collapsed during the first rainy season. She had to move back with her Pa, but the following year she asked for help from her friends, uncles, and aunties. They all pitched in, and now she was a proud house owner.

For the second time that day, she tried scribbling some lines on the scroll. She frowned.

Not like adding a room would do anything….

Who would live in it?

The next morning, she woke up early.

“That’s not it! The spear has to go in a straight line for the first one-third length, then swerve straight down. Like this.” She was at her father’s dojo, teaching the kids the meteor spear martial art.

Not many of them could make the Dao shard for it. But she liked teaching these brats. They were so dumb!

"Yes, teacher!" The brats replied as one.

The early morning went by. When the lessons ended, the kids ran off to join the fun with other cohorts.

It was football time, and the more the merrier.

“You wanna referee?” Asked the other instructor.

Ling shook her head. She wanted to head to the market square and see if she could spot that bastard Chao. He appeared and disappeared at random these days, spending more time in the forest than in the slums.

Ever since he met Ziyou Yung, he had changed. Ever since he met the fox princess.

The road she took today took her through the eastern lower town. There were a lot more madlanders now compared to a few weeks ago.

Most were carrying carts, ferrying luggage and furniture to the white town. The Baishui had moved out. Now, the white town was her pa’s territory.

And with the Youjin clan’s runners shouting at every corner, giving out free stuff, the native townfolks were less wary.

“Goal!” She heard a shout.

A group of madlander children were playing football under some trees. The space was an empty plot of land surrounded by a broken wooden palisade. Local kids were peeking in from the side with curiosity in their eyes. One girl, about seven, mustered up her courage and approached the players, squeezing her hem.

“C-Can we play too?” She shouted. Whispered.

The madlander kids stopped, then looked at each other in confusion. There was fear and uncertainty. But before they could reply, an old woman, perhaps the little girl’s family, came in running and dragged her away.

“Grandma! No, no no. I wanna play I wanna play waaaaaaah.”

“Shush. They’re filthy. You know your hair will fall off if you play with them?”

“R-Really?” The girl sniffed.

“Grandma won’t lie.” Said the old lady with warm eyes.

Ling sighed, walking away.

When she reached the market square, she didn’t find the bastard. But she did see Ziyou Yung strutting down the road, maybe towards the upper towns.

On his shoulder perched a golden fox, brushing lazily as the sun kissed its tail. In front of him was another fox, grey and with a heaven-defying fluffy coat. Su Xiya, Ling knew, or Floofy as she was called. The grey fox carried a comically large pack on her back but skipped along with the tiny Lord Yaoguai floating behind, the foxmoth land god buzzing a strange song.

“Woof woof, woof woof!”

“Kii!”

“Woof woof arf.”

“Kyu!”

The people on the street gave them a wide berth. There were whispers of fear, envy, and gratitude. No one dared approach.

The golden fox glanced at Ling, and then away. But she knew for sure that their eyes had met.

Ling thought for a while. She didn’t want to offend the fox yao for she knew what they were capable of.

There was this one fox yao who liked to dress in all black. Maybe even stronger than the Imperfect Heaven 3rd realm, the creepy guy would run around the city three nights a week and beat up men who gossiped too loudly about the fox clan.

Ling didn’t know what to think about that other than this Su Haochen guy was big trouble.

These fox yao, Su Nanya, Xiya, Yafeng, Haochen and the rest, every last one of them had a nut loose in their heads with feral squirrels running after it.

No good would come from trying to befriend them.

Su Nanya especially; she dressed more naked than a prostitute and had no shame showing her breasts and butt to random men. Ling, for the love of the mad heavens, did not know what the bastard saw in her.

And she's supposed to be a princess? How sinful!

Ziyou Yung, too, for that matter. Did these two men have no pride? To pander over a woman of no virtue. Did they not know how many thousands of other men in the city stayed awake at night to pleasure themselves while moaning this princess’s name?

Probably not. But that Su Haochen freak sure did. He went around beating those men up too, the other four nights of the week.

Ling needed to figure the vixen out.

She stepped towards them, and Ziyou Yung stopped, looking back.

“Hey!” Ling said with pretend enthusiasm, “Where ye goin’?”