Balance Keeper

In the heart of the Gobi, the sandstorm raged ten times fiercer than in Blackstone Town.

Ye Ningzhou trudged through the shifting sand, each step sinking to his ankles. Even his eight hundred catties of strength felt meager against this endless sea of dunes. Butcher Li's giant axe hung slung across his back, its blade reflecting the scorching sun, blinding to the eye. The iron ring had worn a faint groove into his finger, and Wang Cheng's dying gaze lingered in his mind—a look heavy with expectation, heavier than the axe itself.

Three days into his journey, his water pouch emptied, and only two dried jujubes remained. He rested against a wind-eroded rock, running his thumb over the iron ring. Wang Cheng's body was likely buried by now; was the general store's plank door still barred? Was Old Shi in Red Willow Valley growing anxious? He quashed the thoughts as soon as they arose.

The Abyss Guardian's Journal warned: To dwell on the dead is to betray the living.

He pulled out the black iron talisman brush, sketching a rough map in the sand. From Blackstone Town to Red Willow Valley was three hundred li as the crow flies, but the Gobi's dunes shifted like restless beasts. An oasis that seemed within reach might vanish behind a sand curtain in the blink of an eye. The mirage he'd glimpsed yesterday already felt like a absurd dream.

"Awoo——"

A wolf's howl sliced through the wind. Not the whimper of a sand wolf, but a sharper cry, laced with a malice no mortal beast could muster. Ye Ningzhou sprang to his feet, gripping the axe. To the northwest, a column of yellow sand spiraled skyward, coiling like a dragon, swallowing half the horizon in moments.

A desert storm.

He'd heard Old Amu's father speak of Gobi storms that devoured camel caravans, their grit sharper than blades. Seeing it now, he realized the tales had understated its terror. The storm advanced with a thunderous roar, shaking the earth beneath his feet.

Ye fled, his Phantom Steps blurring as he raced toward the nearest oasis he could recall. But the storm outpaced him. Within the time it took to burn a stick of incense, the gale overtook him, sand slashing his face like whip strokes.

Instinctively, he hunched forward, raising the axe to shield his head—a late-stage Body Tempering reflex, but he'd forgotten what he carried closer to his chest.

"Crack——"

The Abyss Guardian's Journal, tucked inside his robe, was torn loose by the wind. Its pages fluttered, straining at the bindings with a brittle, 濒死的 creak. Ye's heart lurched. He reached to grab it, but a fiercer gust blinded him with sand.

At that instant, his chest erupted in searing pain. Not the warm burn of the Dao Seal, but a scalding cold, as if ice and fire had exploded under his skin. He sensed a blur streak past, and the howling wind dimmed, almost… muted.

"A human cultivator?"

A woman's voice sounded beside him, crisp as a mountain spring, yet edged with thorns.

Ye's eyes flew open. The sand had been blocked by a pale pink barrier. Beyond it, the storm raged; within, he could hear his own heartbeat. Before him stood a woman in white, her face veiled in silk, revealing only amber eyes and a cinnabar mole between her brows—shaped like a fox's mark.

Most terrifying of all were her nine fluffy fox tails, swaying gently behind her, their tips glowing with faint spiritual light. She was no mortal.

"Demon…" Ye's throat tightened as he clutched the axe.

"Compared to your kind, this 'demon' is far cleaner." The woman laughed, her tone icy with disdain. "Demon-Slaying Alliance dogs just massacred my clan's caravan to the west. The stench of your black iron talisman brush reeks from three li away."

Ye noticed his brush glowing faintly—a reaction to demonic energy. He recalled Wang Cheng's words: the fox clan of Ten-Thousand Wood Ridge bore a blood feud with the alliance. Could it be…

"You're of the Nine-Tailed Fox clan?"

The woman arched a brow. Her tails snapped upright, slashing toward his face with a gale-force wind. "You know, yet you still brandish a weapon?"

Ye raised the axe on reflex. The collision with her tail sent him staggering back. Her strength surpassed his own!

"Are all human cultivators this foolish?" She retracted her tail, a pink flame flickering to life at her fingertips. It hovered, casting her eyes in a sharp, feline slant. "The alliance murdered three of my elders. Do you think I'd spare any human with a talisman brush?"

The pink foxfire streaked toward his chest, fast as a shooting star.

He cursed inwardly—too late to dodge. He watched the flame hurtle toward him… when the Dao Seal fragment on his chest blazed to life. A pale blue aura burst forth, suspending the foxfire midair.

Pink and blue light tangled, a silent duel of wills.

The woman's pupils contracted sharply: "The Balance Dao Seal?!"

The foxfire extinguished instantly. She stumbled back three steps, her nine tails fanning out as she warily fixed her gaze on Ye Ningzhou's chest. "You're one of the Abyss Guardians' people?"

Ye Ningzhou was equally stunned. The Dao Seal could suppress demonic fire? There was no mention of this in the manual. He touched the fragment on his chest, which still burned hot, as if echoing the woman's words.

"That's none of your business," he said in a low voice, gripping the giant axe tightly. Though this fox demon had saved him, the enmity between demons and humans ran deeper than the Gobi's sands.

"None of my business?" The woman suddenly laughed, the corners of her mouth beneath the veil curving into a cold sneer. "The Abyss Guardians once made a pact with my clan to jointly guard the Chaos Rift in the Misty Sea. What happened? Your people abandoned their posts, costing my clan countless lives." A sharpness flashed in her amber eyes. "Meeting you today must be fate."

Before the words faded, her figure vanished from where she stood, reappearing behind Ye Ningzhou the next second, her fox tail lashing out like a whip.

Ye Ningzhou had been on guard. He shifted sideways with Phantom Steps, swinging the giant axe horizontally—but it sliced through empty air. This woman's speed was faster than the storm itself!

"A mortal-boned cultivator, daring to show off in front of me?" The woman's voice echoed from all directions, laced with mockery.

Ye Ningzhou scanned his surroundings, suddenly recalling a line from The Abyss Guardian's Manual: "When faced with speed, stand still; when faced with strength, evade." He took a deep breath, abandoning pursuit. Instead, he channeled his spiritual energy into the giant axe and slammed it into the ground.

"Mountain-Crushing Fist · Shatter!"

The axe blade sank half a foot into the earth, sending a dull tremor through the sand beneath, freezing the surrounding quicksand for a split second. The woman's figure flickered in the distance, clearly caught off guard by this move.

"Interesting," she said, her playful demeanor vanishing. The fox mark between her brows grew clearer. "I'm Su Muyao, heir to the Ten-Thousand Demons Association. If you truly belong to the Abyss Guardians, you should know the old pact remains unsettled."

Ye Ningzhou's knuckles whitened as he clung to the axe handle. The Abyss Guardians' debts were indeed more numerous than the Gobi's grains of sand.

The storm had ceased without notice. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting light on the sand between them like an invisible boundary line.

In the Gobi, now calm after the sandstorm, one could hear the faint sound of grains shifting.

Su Muyao's nine tails slowly retracted, but she remained on guard. Her amber eyes, cold as ice, fixed on the lingering glow of the Dao Seal fragment on Ye Ningzhou's chest. "The Abyss Guardians' credibility shattered when your people broke the pact," she said, her voice trembling faintly as if touching a long-healed wound. "My grandfather exhausted his nine-tailed foxfire to seal that Chaos Rift. We never even recovered his body."

Ye Ningzhou's grip on the giant axe tightened. The manual said nothing of the pact's collapse—another chapter of history likely buried on purpose. He suddenly understood that balance in these Nine Mystic Realms had never relied on one side's perseverance alone. Someone had to remember the broken promises, too.

"I'm not here to settle old scores," Ye Ningzhou said firmly, lifting his right arm slightly to signal no hostility. "I need to find Old Shi in Red Willow Valley."

"Old Shi Shuan?" Su Muyao arched a brow, her fox tail flicking gently to release a faint fragrance. "That old fool who only knows how to temper mortal iron? The Demon-Slaying Alliance broke his leg three years ago. He's probably too weak to lift a hammer now." Her tone sharpened. "You humans are all the same—preaching about pacts while watching your allies get butchered."

Before the words ended, three clusters of foxfire shot from her fingertips, forming a triangular formation aimed at Ye Ningzhou's ankles. The flames looked delicate, yet carried a strange aura that burned spiritual energy—a technique specifically designed to counter body cultivators.

Ye Ningzhou was ready. He stepped sideways with Phantom Steps, and the anti-slip talisman on his sole suddenly glowed faintly, steadying him on the shifting sand. The foxfire seared past his boots, leaving three small craters in the sand, from which wisps of acrid smoke rose.

"Must you fight?" Ye Ningzhou's voice turned cold. He could understand the demon clan's resentment, but would not tolerate unprovoked aggression.

"Would you have me do otherwise?" Su Muyao sneered, the fox mark between her brows flaring red. "Smile at humans like my ancestors did, only to end up with no body left to bury?" Her nine tails suddenly expanded, surrounding Ye Ningzhou. Each hair stood on end like a sharp blade. "Hand over the Dao Seal, and I'll make your death quick."

Ye Ningzhou suddenly laughed. The sound echoed across the empty Gobi, carrying a 近乎疯狂 tenacity. He slammed the giant axe into the sand, formed a hand seal with both hands, and channeled the Dao Seal fragment on his chest—a pale blue glow instantly spread, forcing the surrounding foxfire to shrink back slightly.

"A mortal-boned cultivator, daring to wield spiritual energy in front of me?" Surprise flashed in Su Muyao's eyes, quickly replaced by anger. She hated this reckless stubbornness in humans more than anything.

Her fox tail lashed out with a shrill whistle, tearing through the air. Ye Ningzhou neither dodged nor evaded. His left hand with a rush grabbed the sweeping tail, while his right hand drew the black iron talisman brush from his waist, its tip pointing directly at Su Muyao's brow—he had gambled that this fox demon, for all her ferocity, would not truly kill him.

The brush stopped three inches from her brow. The cold light of its tip reflected in Su Muyao's stunned eyes. She could feel the Dao Seal's suppressing power flowing through her tail, slowing the circulation of her demonic energy—a never-before-experienced sensation.

"You don't dare kill me," Ye Ningzhou said, his voice close, roughened by sand and wind. "The Ten-Thousand Demons Association still needs clues from the Abyss Guardians to find the Chaos Rift, just as you need human cultivators' spiritual veins to cultivate." He slowly released his grip, watching the faint finger marks on her tail. "The Balance Dao Seal can suppress foxfire, but it can also nourish spiritual roots. That is its true purpose."

Su Muyao stumbled back, her tails slapping the sand in agitation. She had never met a human like this—weak in spiritual energy, yet always finding a way to turn the tide, like the stubborn seabuckthorn in the Gobi, impossible to eradicate.

"Pray you never fall into my hands," she sighing coldly,turning to leave. But Ye Ningzhou called out, stopping her.

"The Demon-Slaying Alliance is deploying troops to the Western Regions," Ye Ningzhou said, picking up the giant axe and weighing it in his hand. "Xiao Wanlei is leading them personally, claiming to purge the remaining demons in Ten-Thousand Wood Ridge." He paused, adding, "I saw the deployment orders on Butcher Li's body."

Su Muyao's steps halted abruptly. Ten-Thousand Wood Ridge was the fox clan's last refuge. If the Demon-Slaying Alliance blocked it, the consequences would be catastrophic. She turned back to Ye Ningzhou, her gaze complex—this human youth was actually warning her?

"Don't flatter yourself." Ye Ningzhou saw through her thoughts, tossing her the last dried jujube. "I just don't want to kill Li the Butcher only to watch you all get wiped out next."

Su Muyao caught the jujube, her fingertips brushing its rough skin. Suddenly, she remembered her grandfather's dying words: "There are good and bad among humans, just as there are among demons. Don't let hatred blind you." She watched Ye Ningzhou's retreating figure, axe slung over his shoulder, as foxfire flickered to life in her palm then died out.

In the end, she didn't chase after him.

Ye walked far enough before daring to glance back. The white figure had vanished behind the dunes, leaving only three clusters of unextinguished foxfire, flickering in the Gobi sun. He touched the Dao Seal fragment on his chest, still warm, as if approving his decision.

The manual stated: A guardian of balance must know when to advance and retreat. Sparing Su Muyao today might one day yield unexpected returns.

The outline of Red Willow Valley emerged on the horizon. Ye gripped his axe and quickened his pace. What he didn't know was that the moment he turned away, Su Muyao was hiding behind a dune, watching his 背影,tucking the dried jujube into her sleeve.

Sand swirled around his ankles, stretching Ye's shadow long across the Gobi. Red Willow Valley grew clearer, and the distant clink of metal reached his ears—the sound of Old Shi's smithy still at work.

He was about to hurry forward when a demonic wind suddenly rose behind him, carrying a faint fox fragrance. Ye spun around, axe raised defensively—Su Muyao had followed, her white robes striking against the yellow sand, nine tails coiled behind her yet still exuding a commanding aura.

"What do you want?" Ye's voice darkened. He didn't believe demons would trail someone without reason, especially this nine-tailed fox heir, so wary of humans.

Su Muyao arched a brow, twirling the dried jujube between her fingers, a sneer curving her lips beneath the veil. Afraid you mortal-boned fool would get tricked by Demon-Slaying Alliance scum." She glanced toward Red Willow Valley. "Xiao Wanlei didn't just bring Eastern Region cultivators—he invited Southern Region Fire Cultivators, hiding behind the dunes outside the valley, waiting to catch you in a trap."

Ye's heart sank. Fire Cultivators specialized in flame attacks, and Red Willow Valley was full of dry wood. Once ignited, not even a fly could escape.

"How do you know?" he pressed, gripping the axe handle.

"My clan's caravan just returned from the South," Su Muyao's eyes turned cold. "The alliance promised the Fire Cultivators three demon cores for capturing you—traded for fox internal dan from Ten-Thousand Wood Ridge." She paused, her tone softening. "Consider this repaying your warning."

Ye looked at her, suddenly understanding this fox demon's awkward kindness. Like Old Shi, who always grumbled "Mortal bones can defy fate," her words were sharp but hid a hint of goodwill.

"Thanks," he said simply, turning to circle around the valley's rear. A patch of low shrubs there would shield him from the valley entrance.

Su Muyao watched his back, suddenly speaking: "If the Dao Seal fragment can suppress foxfire, maybe that's not bad."

Ye froze.

"In ancient times, Abyss Guardians and Nine-Tailed Foxes shared the Dao Seal to guard Chaos Abyss," Su Muyao's voice softened, as if speaking to the wind. "My grandfather's journal wrote: The 'balance' character on the seal always bore the fox clan's totem."

Ye spun around, but only saw Su Muyao walking away, her white robes billowing in the sand like a bird about to take flight.

As he slipped into the shrubs, the smithing sounds from Red Willow Valley continued—clank, clank—a rhythm that steadied his racing heart. Crouching in the sand, Ye spotted faint flickers behind the valley entrance dunes: Fire Cultivator talismans, reeking of sulfur.

Old Shi was still forging inside, the hammer striking iron a reassuring drumbeat.

Ye took a deep breath, gripping his axe. Eight hundred catties of strength, black iron talisman brush, half a Dao Seal—enough to shatter this trap.

He pulled out the brush, drawing an anti-slip talisman on his palm, then checked the iron ring on his waist—Wang Cheng's gift, its edges polished smooth from handling.

Wind swept over the dunes, carrying faint murmurs from the Fire Cultivators and Old Shi's distant coughs. Ye knew: his turn had come.