Chapter Eight: The Pack of Wolves

In the eighteenth year of the Zhenguan era of the Great Tang, on a certain night with a full moon, Zhou Hongxian was preparing to perform the moon-worshipping breathing exercise when the white fox suddenly spoke: “Little Fox, I want some Maiden’s Red wine!”

Zhou Hongxian replied, “Old Fox, ever since Old Li could no longer brew wine, didn’t you resolve to give up drinking?”

The white fox sighed softly, “I did quit once, decades ago. But then I started again for over ten years, and now I’m addicted. It’s hard to quit!”

“But now that Old Li has passed on, there’s no one left who knows how to brew Maiden’s Red.”

After a long silence, the white fox shook his head and sighed, “In that case, I won’t drink. You continue your cultivation.”

“Oh,” Zhou Hongxian responded.

The next day at noon, the white fox was lying on a rock basking in the sun when he suddenly spoke again: “Little Fox, I want some Maiden’s Red again!”

Zhou Hongxian was surprised, “Old Fox, didn’t you say last night you wouldn’t drink anymore?”

This time, the white fox’s tone was more resolute: “Last night was last night. Now the craving has come again—I can’t bear not to drink!”

“But within sixty li of here, there isn’t a single household that brews wine!”

The white fox cast a deep look at Zhou Hongxian, and then suddenly sneered, “What happened to the resolve you had when you begged me to teach you the Way? If you can’t find it within sixty li, can’t you search further? Do you still want to continue learning the Way from me?”

Zhou Hongxian was taken aback. In eighteen years, Old Fox had never shown him any special favor, but he’d never spoken so sternly, either. This made Zhou Hongxian uneasy. “Old Fox, how about I go down the mountain to look tomorrow?”

“Why wait for tomorrow? The day is still young—can’t you make the journey today?”

“All right.”

“Head further south. That way you’re more likely to come across a human village. If you can’t find any, don’t come back!”

“Al—alright!”

As Zhou Hongxian watched the old fox see him off, a strange look flickered in the white fox’s eyes before he revealed a trace of restless confusion. “What’s happening to me lately? Why do I keep remembering people and things from long ago? So many years have passed—am I still unable to let go?”

So Zhou Hongxian set off down the mountain to search for Maiden’s Red wine for the old fox. He followed the old fox’s instructions and headed south. He walked for a day and a night, passing a few small villages, but not a single household sold wine.

Yet the words, “If you can’t find it, don’t come back,” echoed in his ears. Zhou Hongxian thought to himself that if he failed this task, even if he shamelessly returned, the old fox’s temperament meant there was no way he’d let him continue learning the Way. So he gritted his teeth and pressed on southward, heedless of everything else. Days and nights passed like this, and he was by now very far from Mount Taibai.

One day, Zhou Hongxian passed through a desolate wilderness, already weak with hunger. Here, there was neither mountain nor river, and not a thing to eat. Fortunately, Zhou Hongxian had brought rations.

How does a fox carry rations? Quite naturally, with the palm-sized cloth pouch tied around his neck—a treasure given by the old fox, named the Universe Pouch, meaning it contained a world within. When Zhou Hongxian first received it, he was overjoyed, for it reminded him of the storage rings from an online sci-fi novel he’d read in college, or the magic lamp from “One Thousand and One Nights” he’d seen as a child.

Zhou Hongxian stretched out a paw and shook the pouch, silently thinking of the item he wanted. Soon, an object materialized before him—a roasted rabbit leg.

Ah, time for a feast! Yet just as Zhou Hongxian bit into the rabbit leg, he suddenly sensed danger closing in from all sides. He looked up and was instantly terrified—somehow, a dozen wild wolves had appeared in the wilderness, standing not far away, each one watching him with fierce, hungry eyes.

Zhou Hongxian trembled and tried to resolve the conflict with reason: “Brothers Wolf, we’re all canines, all family! I’ll give you the rabbit leg—just don’t kill me, all right?”

But wolves and foxes are natural enemies, and the wolves’ eyes were the natural yellow-brown, clearly lacking intelligence. Zhou Hongxian’s plan failed! The pack surged forward at once. Zhou Hongxian had no choice but to toss the rabbit leg aside and run for his life, the wolves in hot pursuit.

But how could his short fox legs outrun a pack of wolves? The distance closed with every step; Zhou Hongxian felt death upon him.

“Whoosh—whoosh—” Several sharp sounds sliced through the air.

Looking up, Zhou Hongxian saw arrows flying straight toward him. He was shocked, and in a flash of desperation, he threw himself to the ground, clutching his head, heedless of the pursuing wolves. He knew that being struck by arrows would be a quicker death than being torn apart by wolves! Soon, the howls of wolves filled his ears. Zhou Hongxian kept his head buried, not daring to move.

After a long while, all fell silent. In the hush, he heard only the gentle wind and heavy footsteps approaching. Then, a hearty voice laughed: “A mere pack of wolves dares block my path? They must have a death wish!” Then the man exclaimed, “What’s this—there’s a fox here?”

Before Zhou Hongxian could react, he felt himself lifted into the air. He hurriedly looked up and found himself face to face with a burly man, whose eyes brimmed with curiosity and a predatory gleam.

This man was about thirty, nearly two meters tall, with broad shoulders, a square face, thick brows, high nose, and a pair of bushy mustaches on his chin. He wore a fitted white suit, a long knife at one side and a powerful bow at the other—a figure of striking heroism!

At first glance, Zhou Hongxian couldn’t help but think of Stallone from later generations—or more precisely, Rambo from “First Blood.”

The man clicked his tongue in wonder. “I’ve never seen such a bright-red fox before. The fur is so fresh and shiny. A bit small, though. I wonder if it’ll make a decent fox-fur vest?”

Hearing this, Zhou Hongxian was scared out of his wits and wanted only to blurt out one thing: “Spare me, mighty hero!”