Siheyuan: tomb robbing? I am serious about hunting.

Chapter 1034 Response

When she raised her arms, they felt longer than expected, and when she took a step, she worried she'd end up on all fours like she used to. She tried to imitate the walk of the human women she'd seen in her tribe, but nearly tripped over her own skirt, causing the pool to chuckle. A thousand years of cultivation formed a vivid picture in her mind. She was first a palm-sized cub, rolling around in the Qingqiu forest, her tail thicker than her body. Back then, spiritual energy felt like the warmth of her mother licking her fur, the sweet juice of forest berries. The elders always carried her in their sleeves, taking her to watch the spiritual energy converge from the east at sunrise and to listen to the ancient trees chant ancient spells on full-moon nights. On the day her five hundred years of cultivation concluded, she attempted to transform for the first time, but only emerged as a human upper body, with the same furry tail still trailing behind her waist. The little foxes in her tribe surrounded her and teased her, calling her a "half-human, half-fox freak," which angered her so much that she ignored them for three days. Later, she gradually mastered the technique, but her emotions would always reveal themselves—ears would pop out when she ate her favorite honey fruit, and her tail would wag uncontrollably when she heard an amusing story. She couldn't count the number of times the elders struck her on the head for this. "Without a stable mind, how can you achieve enlightenment?" The elder's cane rapped against the stone table, making her ears ring. "With your impatience, even if you cultivate for another five hundred years, you won't be able to achieve a complete human form." Now, thinking back, those raps held so much hope. Lingxi gazed at the cold pond, as if she could see the elders standing on the other side of the barrier, twirling their beards and smiling with satisfaction. Suddenly, the ice at the edge of the pond cracked, startling Lingxi from her lost memories. She gathered her clothes and turned to gaze deep into Qingqiu. There, there were perpetual mists, ancient talking trees, and caves hiding centuries-old wine. But these familiar sights now felt strangely constrained. Curiosity had taken root three hundred years ago. That year, she sneaked to the edge of the barrier, and through the lavender veil of light, she caught her first glimpse of the outside world. Carriages churned across the bluestone pavement, their wheel marks etched with tiny stars. Tavern signs swayed in the wind, their fragrance wafting out even more enticing than the sweetest honeyed fruit from Qingqiu. A scholar in a long, azure robe stood at the bridgehead, nodding his head at the moon and reciting phrases she couldn't understand, his voice as clear as the gurgling waters of a mountain stream. From then on, she always found excuses to venture into the barrier. Sometimes it was to gather herbs, sometimes to chase butterflies, but truly, she wanted to see the human world once more. She saw the Lantern Festival lanterns fall like stars, saw beads of sweat on the foreheads of farmers working in the fields, and saw little girls with twin buns scattering flower petals into the river. These images entwined her heart like vines, instilling a growing desire to set foot on that land herself. "Lingxi, remember not to step outside the Qingqiu barrier," the elder's voice suddenly echoed in her ears, its authority as ever. She turned and saw the white-bearded elder standing nearby, leaning on a cane. Moonlight frosted his silver beard. "The world is treacherous, and hearts are unpredictable. With your limited cultivation, I'm afraid you can't even withstand the petty tricks of the market." "But..." Lingxi bit her lip, wanting to say that the human world also has warm lights and sweet songs, but the elder interrupted her. "Do you know why A Yao of our tribe was wiped out three hundred years ago?" The elder's eyes darkened. "She simply believed the sweet talk of humans and was turned into an elixir." Lingxi's fingertips tightened suddenly. She had heard Sister A Yao's story, but she always felt it was an exception. She looked at the elder's wrinkled face and finally nodded, "I understand." But the vines in her heart were quietly spreading. When the first rays of morning light appeared on the surface of the cold pond, Lingxi made a decision. From deep within the tree hollow, she unearthed a brocade pouch embroidered with osmanthus flowers. Inside was the osmanthus cake she'd been saving for six months—brewed with Qingqiu's unique golden osmanthus and morning dew, and specially steamed to attract bees for spiritual enrichment. The scent was even sweeter than any other mortal pastry. While the tribe members were engaged in morning training, she slipped to the barrier with the pouch in hand. A shroud of pale purple light trembled gently like a cicada's wing, etched with ancient runes. It was a barrier erected by the Qingqiu ancestors, designed to keep out both outsiders and those within the tribe who left without permission. She reached out her fingertips and carefully touched the barrier. A warm sensation spread across them, like the touch of a spring stream. Suddenly, a warm current enveloped her wrist, carrying her a few stumbling steps forward. Once she found her balance, the ground beneath her feet felt completely different—no longer the soft, humus soil of Qingqiu, but gravel that pricked her feet. The barrier's light curtain quietly faded behind her. Lingxi looked back, only to see a dense forest, with no trace of Qingqiu in sight. She took a deep breath, the air mingling with the stench of earth and the scent of burning grass and trees, a stark contrast to Qingqiu's refreshing spiritual energy. A few dogs barked in the distance, their voices hoarse and fierce, frightening Lingxi so much that she covered her mouth. She had never heard such a sound before, and it seemed even more terrifying than the fiercest black bear in Qingqiu. Her tail threatened to fly out uncontrollably, and she frantically grasped the hem of her skirt, her knuckles white from the pressure. The alley was narrow and deep, its walls twitching and crooked, as if ready to collapse. Dry vines clung to the walls, shimmering in the moonlight like ghostly claws. A few lanterns hung from the eaves, their candlelight flickering in the wind, stretching her shadow far too long, twisting like a snake, then shattering like a butterfly. Lingxi clutched the brocade pouch tightly in her hand. The aroma of osmanthus cake seeped through the seams of the cloth, comforting her slightly. She tentatively took a few steps forward, the gravel scratching her feet painfully. Then she remembered that humans wear shoes—but she had none. Just then, a faint sound of footsteps reached her from the front. Lingxi held her breath and retreated into the shadows of a corner. Qingqiu's instincts tensed her muscles, her fingertips transforming into translucent claws, ready to strike at any danger. The footsteps drew closer, a rhythmic beat that didn't sound like that of a beast, but more like... human. Lingxi poked her head out quietly and saw a scholar in white approaching, lantern in hand. His robe was washed pale, but the cuffs were meticulously embroidered with black bamboo. The leaves swayed slightly in the candlelight, as if the wind were blowing through a painting. His hair was tied up with a white jade hairpin, a few strands hanging down in front of his forehead, fluttering gently with his steps. Perhaps he heard something, the scholar stopped and the light from the lantern happened to shine on Lingxi's face. The moment their eyes met, Lingxi felt her heart skip a beat - his eyes were like the water of a cold pond, clear and deep, reflecting the light of the lantern, as if they contained two dancing stars. She subconsciously stepped back.