As the last vestiges of the formation dissipated like wisps of smoke in the wind, the grand and majestic spirit-fox, Jiuwei, began to shrink.

The celestial aura that had enveloped her flickered and faded, the shimmering light dimming like the last glow of a dying ember. He watched as the light fractured, tiny motes of energy drifting away as scattered fireflies. The shimmering brilliance that once seemed untouchable now dulled, until all that remained was a small, silver fox, no larger than a housecat. Her once fierce, molten-gold eyes, now round and wide, blinked in the dappled sunlight, their intensity replaced by a disarming innocence.

The transformation was so abrupt, so unexpected, that Tian Hao stared at her, stunned into silence for a moment, his jaw slack, before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“This… this is the great and powerful Jiuwei?” he chuckled, barely able to contain himself, his voice echoing through the clearing. “I thought I was facing a celestial terror, a being of unimaginable power, and now… this?” He gestured towards the small fox, still shaking his head in amusement.

Jiuwei, her silver fur now tinged with a faint pink blush, glared at him, her ears flattening against her head, her tiny voice filled with as much indignation as she could muster. “Silence, foolish mortal! I am still the great Jiuwei,” She huffed, puffing out her chest, the gesture losing some of its intended grandeur due to her reduced size. “I expended far too much energy gifting you Transformation. My power is… temporarily constrained. Now, come and help your senior.” She gestured with a tiny paw, as if summoning him.

With an amused grin, Tian Hao carefully approached, but hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering just above the little fox. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nervousness—the memory of her towering form, radiating overwhelming celestial power, was still fresh in his mind. He swallowed, the contrast between her current state and her earlier grandeur making him question if this was really happening.

With a deep breath, he extended his hands, finally deciding to lift the little fox. She squirmed slightly at his touch before resigning herself to his grasp, her soft fur delicate against his palms. He gently lifted her, placing her on his shoulder, where she settled down, her tiny paws clutching at his robe as if afraid of falling, the weight more of a tickle than a burden.

“Remember, young one,” she declared, her voice still carrying an air of authority despite her diminished state, “I am your senior! You will treat me with the respect I deserve.”

Tian Hao looked at Jiuwei, perched precariously on his shoulder, the absurdity of the situation striking him as almost comical. “Alright, oh mighty one,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of jest, “now that I’ve rescued you, how do we get out of this place?”

Jiuwei raised her head regally, her silver fur gleaming in the dim light, her projected authority, even now, more presence than performance.

“There is a secret exit hidden deeper within this forest. Follow my guidance, and you shall be led to freedom.” She paused, her ears twitching slightly as she sniffed the air, then added more quietly, “I am… too weakened to break the dimensional barrier myself. Otherwise,” she added with a huff, her tail flicking dismissively, “I could do so with a single wave of my paw, of course.”

Rolling his eyes, but deciding not to tease her further, Tian Hao nodded. “Alright, lead the way, Senior,” he said, resigning himself to his status as steed.

With Jiuwei perched on his shoulder, Tian Hao plunged deeper into the forest, following her whispered instructions. “Left, young one, past the gnarled oak with the hollow trunk. Now right, through the thicket of thorny vines. Careful, don’t snag your… ridiculous robes,” she instructed.

They navigated through the dense underbrush, Tian Hao’s steps struggling, each movement hampered by the overgrown foliage, the forest floor uneven and littered with roots, making each step more treacherous than the last.

Tian Hao huffed, his voice dripping with frustration. He clenched his teeth, trying to keep his irritation in check. 'Where are we even going?' he thought, glancing at the unending tangle of roots and vines in front of him. 'And why does this seem to be the hardest route possible?'

After a moment of silence, he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Alright, seriously, where are we going? And why does it feel like you're taking us on the hardest route possible? I swear, every thorn and every root is out to get me!"

Jiuwei rolled her eyes, her tiny ears twitching. "It is not my fault you are hopelessly inept at navigating a simple forest, young one. If you had spent more time cultivating and less time lazing about, perhaps you wouldn't struggle with something so basic."

"Basic?" Tian Hao muttered under his breath, nearly tripping over an exposed root. "Yeah, right. If 'basic' means getting impaled by a thousand thorny vines."

Jiuwei flicked her tail with a haughty air. "It is not my fault that nature itself finds you amusing. Besides, we must take this route to avoid the dimensional fractures. Unless, of course, you'd prefer being torn to pieces by unstable energies?"

Tian Hao let out an exaggerated sigh. "Of course. I knew you'd have a 'perfectly good' reason. You just like watching me suffer, don't you?"

Jiuwei gave a sly grin, her small teeth flashing. "I must admit, your incompetence is rather entertaining. It adds a certain... flair to our journey."

As Tian Hao progressed, the air, heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, felt colder, as if they were entering the true heart of the forest. Each step carrying them further and further away from where he had woken within this strange pocket dimension.

Just as they approached what Jiuwei claimed was the path to the exit, a sudden rustling in the undergrowth made Tian Hao freeze. His heart pounded in his chest as the sound echoed in the quiet of the forest, his previous fear returning as he remembered his earlier battles.

Before he could react, a spirit beast charged out of the shadows—a grotesque creature, warped as though reality itself had fumbled with its creation, resembling a massive, twisted rabbit. Its eyes glowed with an eerie red light, its fur matted and patchy, and its teeth, long and sharp, seemed too large for its distorted skull, its paws ending in thick claws.

Tian Hao cursed under his breath, quickly pulling out his last flask of spiritual wine. He took a deep swig, the familiar burn spreading warmth through his chest, the Wine-Fueled Fury coursing through his veins, igniting a desperate recklessness. He knew this was it, what could be his last stand. It was either fight or die in this strange purgatory of warped spirits and ancient foxes.

With a swift, graceful leap, Jiuwei jumped off Tian Hao’s shoulder, landing lightly on the ground a few feet away. She sat back on her haunches, her tail curling around her like a protective shield as she watched from a safe distance, her sharp eyes following his every move with a mix of mild curiosity and something he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Remember, young one,” she called out, her tiny voice carrying a surprisingly long distance, “a true cultivator never wastes an opportunity to prove themselves… to refine themselves through struggle… to not die.” Her voice carried a hint of amusement, as if she viewed this whole encounter as a form of entertainment, his survival more a jest of fate than anything resembling planned redemption. She settled in to observe, as if she were an honored guest in an amphitheater built solely to display his karmic penance, the shadows playing around her as though they hid a far more powerful being than how she current appeared.

The fight was messy.

Tian Hao swung wildly, his fists thrashing with more desperation than skill. Each strike lacked grace, his movements crude, a inefficient flurry driven by panic rather than precision. He felt the sting of failure in every misstep, every poorly aimed blow—a stark contrast to the proud fantasies of heroism he'd once entertained.

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His feet caught on a protruding root, sending him stumbling forward. He barely regained his balance, his silken robes—now tattered, little more than rags—snagging on thorny bushes. He felt the sharp sting of fabric tearing, his finery turning into a hindrance more than a help, reminding him just how woefully unprepared he was for such an encounter.

The warped rabbit spirit beast lunged at him without mercy, its grotesque form twisting and jerking, as though reality itself had broken and tried to reassemble it incorrectly.

Tian Hao saw the claws, impossibly large, slicing through the air. He felt them rake across his side—deep, burning, each gash a burst of agony. The pain washed over him like a wave, each sharp jolt of hurt a cold reminder: he was outmatched, out of his depth, and far from the carefree life of feasts and garden naps.

He tripped over another rock, his legs tangling beneath him as he landed on one knee. He gasped for air, his lungs burning, his fear coursing through him in waves. In that moment, Tian Hao could almost hear Big Sister's mocking voice in his head, reminding him of his lack of cultivation, his choices catching up to him all at once.

The rabbit beast twisted towards him again, eyes glowing with malevolence, its next attack poised to finish him. Tian Hao forced himself to his feet, his body screaming in protest, as the beast came in for another strike.

“Are you trying to fight it, or dance with it?” Jiuwei taunted, her small voice echoing through the clearing as he stumbled, nearly falling, before recovering, dodging a strike that might have torn through his stomach.

Tian Hao shot her an annoyed glare, his teeth gritted in frustration. “I’d like to see you do better in my shoes,” he muttered under his breath, barely catching himself as he dodged another swipe. The irritation at her words fueled him, giving him the resolve to push on.

She was clearly enjoying his struggles—perhaps a millennium of confinement had left her with a rather cruel sense of humor, but she couldn’t help the twitch of her tail, which had settled down and curled around her as she sat, watching him.

“Perhaps you should focus a bit more on not tripping over your own feet, young one,” she added, her tone dripping with mockery, as if he were a petulant child rather than her liberator. Despite her words, her golden eyes held a hint of something akin to reluctant admiration. As crude as his technique was, as unskilled as he clearly was, Tian Hao’s determination was evident. He fought with a ferocity she hadn’t expected, refusing to give up despite the odds. He was foolish, but brave.

Tian Hao, ignoring Jiuwei's taunts, pressed on, his mind fogged with sleep-deprived exhaustion and the heady rush of the Wine-Fueled Fury. His feet moved instinctively, each step heavier than the last, his muscles burning with every ounce of effort.

He gritted his teeth, pain radiating from many parts of his body, each bruise and cut a reminder of his limits. His movements had lost whatever bare semblance of finesse they once held, now erratic, driven by pure survival instinct rather than calculated skill.

He lunged forward, his strikes lacking the precision of a trained cultivator, each swing of his arm a testament to his desperation. The air hissed as his fists cut through it, though often, they met nothing but empty space. He twisted his body, trying to avoid the rabbit beast's lunges, but his form was sloppy, leaving him open more often than not.

The spirit beast snarled, its red eyes gleaming in the dim forest light. It lunged for his side, and Tian Hao jerked back, feeling the rush of wind as its claws narrowly missed him yet again. He stumbled, nearly losing his footing, but forced himself to stay upright, his heart pounding in his ears.

His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, each one feeling like a struggle against the weight of exhaustion pressing on his chest. Every time he tried to move, it felt as if his body was two steps behind—reacting too slowly, awkwardly.

He dodged to the left, his legs barely cooperating, and then to the right, avoiding a swipe of the beast's claws by sheer luck. The Wine-Fueled Fury coursed through his veins, and for a brief moment, it felt like power. Real power. His muscles tingled, a reckless energy coursing through him that felt almost euphoric. But it was a false confidence—strength without control, recklessness that bordered on suicidal madness.

He swung again, the force of his punch impressive, but the direction wild and imprecise. The beast slipped to the side easily, its grotesque body almost mocking his efforts. Tian Hao let out a frustrated growl, his teeth clenched tightly. He could feel the gap between what he was and what he wanted to be. The wine may have amplified his energy, but it had stripped away his balance, his control, leaving him thrashing like an untrained fool.

Swearing under his breath, he tried to steady himself, adjusting his stance. He twisted his body, letting his instincts guide him, though the movement felt raw, unplanned, uncoordinated. He caught a glimpse of the beast lunging towards him, its red eyes locked onto his exposed side. With a last-second twist, he managed to raise his arm, barely catching the creature's blow, feeling the impact reverberate through his bones.

“Dog fart (gǒu pì; 狗屁) ,” he swore under his breath, adjusting his stance, his body twisting, unplanned and uncoordinated. The beast leapt at him again, and Tian Hao barely lurched out of the way.

Rotating out of the lurch on one leg, Tian Hao's foot found tenuous purchase on the uneven ground. His entire body shifted, weight pivoting in a desperate bid to regain balance, his vision narrowing to the crimson-eyed beast before him.

With a grunt, he lunged forward, driving off his back foot, his arms gathering force as he threw himself at the creature. Every muscle screamed in protest, his body moving beyond the limits of exhaustion, like a puppet animated by survival instinct and operated by a drunken puppeteer. His fist thrust through the air, his knuckles whitening with how hard to clenched his fist.

The blow connected—a solid, bone-crushing impact against the creature’s neck. Tian Hao could feel the beast's neck giving way beneath his fist, the bone splintering, the sickening crunch mingling with the pained cry of the creature. The shock of the collision ran up his arm, radiating through his shoulder.

The warped rabbits grotesque, twisted form shuddered, convulsing. It's eyes went wide, the red light flickering, its limbs spasming briefly as the strength drained out of them.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of sweat, dirt, and the coppery tang of blood, a miasma of struggle that seemed to hang, unmoving, in the oppressive quiet of the forest.

Stumbling backward, Tian Hao's legs finally gave out under the weight of exhaustion. His hands scrambled to find purchase on a nearby root, his breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. His heart pounded in his ears, deafening, each thud a painful reminder that he was still, somehow, alive.

Tian Hao's eyes, wide and unfocused, slowly zeroed in on the heap before him—the beast, its form collapsed in the twisted undergrowth, lifeless. He blinked, hardly believing his own eyes, a weak grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "See?" he muttered, his voice barely audible, a mix of exhaustion and triumph. "Not... dead yet."

Jiuwei, rising to her feet, flicked her tail dismissively, her tiny voice laced with amusement rather than praise, as she stood on the far side of where the rabbit-beast had died. “Don’t let it get to your head, mortal,” she said, her tone dripping with playful scorn as she approached. “You may have survived, but that was hardly impressive. Try not to embarrass me again.”

"So how do we get out of here?" Tian Hao asked again, wincing slightly as he examined his bleeding scratches. "These aren't exactly healing as fast as I'd like." He reached for his wine, then paused, remembering it was gone—his last reservoir of Wine-Fueled Fury spent, only aches and hunger remaining.

“Patience, young one,” Jiuwei said, tilting her head as if considering his request—now a command. “First, we rest. Even the most skilled cultivator must heed the whispers of their body, even if yours seems entirely guided by its… appetites rather than any actual skill. Then, we find our way to the exit. It is not far now, but the path is treacherous. You will need your strength, what little you actually have, if you hope to escape this realm.”

With that, she turned and trotted towards a nearby cluster of trees, her small form disappearing into the shadows, her voice echoing behind her, “Come along, foolish mortal. Unless you intend to camp here amongst the… twisted flora?”

Tian Hao, too exhausted to argue, let out a long sigh, following Jiuwei into the deepening gloom.

They rested for what felt like days, though Tian Hao suspected it had only been a few hours, his internal clock still struggling to adjust to the perpetual twilight of this strange realm. Jiuwei, perched on a broad branch above him, slept soundly, her silver fur gleaming faintly in the dim light, her small form curled into a perfect circle, her breathing soft and even. Tian Hao, unable to fully relax despite his exhaustion, lay on the ground, staring up at the tangled branches overhead, his mind racing with anxieties about the potential dangers still ahead.

After some time, Tian Hao rose, stretching carefully. His muscles still ached from his battles with the strange warped rabbit beast, his wounds scabbed closed. Despite that, he felt stronger now, more resilient, more aware of what he was capable of.

He looked up at Jiuwei, still asleep on the branch above, her small form curled into a ball of silver fur.

Despite her diminutive size, he couldn’t shake the image of her grand, majestic presence, the memory of her power, an echo of the celestial being he had freed from that ancient formation. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he knew that this small, furry interlude was a deceptive cloak hiding something far more potent, something far more dangerous.

Jiuwei twitched in her sleep, her tiny voice muttering, "Don't embarrass me again, fool..." Tian Hao sighed, rolling his eyes. "Even in her dreams, she's already bossing me around," he thought, a small smile on his lips.

But that smile faded quickly as the wind rustled through the ever-twilight forest, carrying with it an eerie whisper of what might be lurking in the shadows. Tian Hao tightened his grip on his tattered robes, a shiver running down his spine. "This place isn’t done with me yet," he thought.