Chapter Nine: Xue Rengui

Zhou Hongxian did not truly beg for mercy, fearing that if he spoke, the burly man might misunderstand and mistake him for a monster, slashing him without hesitation. Yet if he did not plead, he would soon become nothing more than a fur draped across the stranger’s shoulder, a fate scarcely different. Helpless as prey beneath the knife, Zhou Hongxian had no recourse but to fix the man with a pitiful gaze.

Perhaps moved by this look, the burly man’s face showed a hint of confusion. “Strange,” he mused, “everyone says foxes are cunning, yet why does this one seem so foolish—so much like the beloved dog I kept as a boy?”

“What part of me resembles a dog?” Zhou Hongxian felt his dignity battered to pieces. He recalled a similar insult sparking conflict with Fox Eight of Valley of Foxes, and now—wait?

Suddenly, the man was startled to find that the red fox not only showed no fear, but vigorously rubbed its head into his palm, tongue lolling, eyes squinting in clear affection.

The man could not help but laugh. “This little fox seems to like me—how amusing!”

“Little fox, I can’t bear to kill you. How about you follow me from now on?” He stroked the red fox’s head and smoothed its fur. Of course, he did not expect the fox to answer, nor did he truly seek its opinion; it was merely a casual declaration after making up his mind.

To his astonishment, the red fox once more nuzzled his palm, head bobbing up and down as if nodding.

Overjoyed, the man exclaimed, “It understands—ha! Seems quite intelligent! I’m utterly smitten.” Carefully, he scooped up the fox with one hand, then whistled sharply. A fine horse galloped over from a distance.

Tucking the fox beneath his white robe, leaving only its head exposed, the man mounted his steed and rode off at a gallop.

Thus, Zhou Hongxian was carried away as a pet, spared from death but nonetheless lamenting his fate. “Warrior, where are you taking me? I still need to find Daughter’s Red for Old Fox—this is wasting my precious time!”

The man rode through the night under the stars. Zhou Hongxian, curled within his robe, soon drifted into deep slumber.

In his dream, he found Daughter’s Red as hoped and delivered it to the Tianchi Waterfall. Old Fox praised him highly, promising to impart all his lifetime cultivation.

But the dream did not last. Before Old Fox could teach him, great clamor abruptly roused Zhou Hongxian from sleep. He poked his head out from the man’s robe, only to be astonished by what lay before him.

Towering city walls, forests of spears and blades, rows upon rows of marching soldiers in bright yellow armor—all told him he was now within a military camp. On the distant drill grounds, countless troops trained, their numbers in the tens of thousands at least; their shouts, coupled with blaring horns and thundering drums, shook the very heavens. It was a spectacle unlike any Zhou Hongxian had ever witnessed, far more stirring than any grand parade seen on modern television.

He knew this era was the eighteenth year of Zhenguan, the reign of the famed Tang Emperor Taizong, Li Shimin. Yet for an ordinary man like Zhou Hongxian, not well-versed in history, Zhenguan eighteen meant little—he had no idea what events transpired, nor which armies fought whom.

A few days later, after piecing together the situation, Zhou Hongxian felt as if he were dreaming.

This was the mighty Tang army, led by the Grand Commander of the Liaodong Expedition, Li Ji—the legendary Xu Maogong of later tales. Their target was the famed kingdom of Goguryeo, whose descendants modern Koreans would later claim as ancestors.

But what stunned Zhou Hongxian most was the burly man who brought him here, resembling Rambo from “First Blood.” His surname was Xue, given name Li. At first Zhou Hongxian was unmoved, but upon learning the man’s courtesy name, he nearly dropped his fox jaw in shock—for it was Ren Gui!

Yes, this was the very Xue Rengui whose “three arrows settled the Tianshan.” Yet at this moment, Xue Rengui was but a lowly soldier in the Tang ranks, having encountered Zhou Hongxian only because he had returned as a scout with fresh intelligence about Goguryeo.

In the blink of an eye, a year passed. It was now Zhenguan nineteen. Zhou Hongxian had been kept as Xue Rengui’s pet in the Tang camp for several months.

Is it strange for a fox to be a pet? Not at all. Army life was dull; many soldiers and officers kept pets of every sort—cats and dogs were common, turtles ordinary, even toads could be found. The Tang troops revered one man above all: Li Jing, founding hero of the dynasty and Duke of Wei, known for keeping a tiger as a pet. Compared to that, a fox was hardly remarkable.

What did Zhou Hongxian think? Initially excited to meet famous figures, he soon longed to escape and fulfill Old Fox’s mission, return to Mount Taibai, and, with Old Fox’s help, cultivate into a human form. He was thoroughly tired of his fox body.

But what could he do? This was the Tang army at the dawn of its golden age—disciplined, orderly, not corrupt. Even as a fox, escaping unnoticed was no easy feat, especially since Xue Rengui would take him out for strolls whenever free, and at night liked to sleep with him in his arms.

One day, the weather was fine. The Tang army had just finished a minor engagement with Goguryeo, both sides suffering losses. Xue Rengui’s unit had not participated, leaving him idle. So he strolled with Zhou Hongxian and chatted with a group of soldiers.

A soldier asked, “Xue, is your ancestry truly so illustrious, or are you just boasting to us?”

Xue Rengui chuckled, “My sixth great-grandfather was Xue Andu, Prince of Hedong of Northern Wei, who quelled the rebellions of Liu Shao, Lu Shuang, and Liu Yixuan of Liu Song—history records it clearly. Why would I lie to you fools?”

Hearing this, the soldiers grew respectful, thinking anyone titled a prince must be extraordinary, and Xue’s family truly impressive. Yet none seemed to ponder why Xue Andu, after quelling Liu Song’s rebellion, ended up as a prince in Northern Wei.

Xue Rengui surely knew the answer, but would not say—because Xue Andu became a traitor to Liu Song and surrendered to Northern Wei!

But some were not convinced. One said, “No matter how impressive your ancestors, you’re just a nameless soldier like us. What sets you apart?”

Xue Rengui’s face darkened, unable to refute the truth. Gritting his teeth, he replied, “Do you think I’ll remain a nameless soldier forever?”

The others laughed, but said nothing. Feeling slighted, Xue Rengui gloomily scooped up Zhou Hongxian and returned to his tent. There, he vented his frustration by wielding his sword for a long while, finally sighing, “Who would have thought a fine man like me would have no place to prove himself?”

He glanced at Zhou Hongxian, who was shivering with fright nearby. “Little Red, you’re a fox, you ought to have some spirit. Tell me, will I ever make a name for myself? If yes, nod your head; if not, shake it. Is that alright?”

Little Red was the name Xue Rengui gave Zhou Hongxian, much to his displeasure, though he could not refuse. Hearing this question, Zhou Hongxian thought, “Isn’t that obvious? If you, Xue Rengui, weren’t destined for fame, how would even someone like me, unfamiliar with history, know your name?”

But Xue Rengui wanted an answer. If he really replied, would he be treated as a monster? Zhou Hongxian agonized for a long time, then gently nodded, reasoning that if he showed a hint of intelligence, perhaps Xue Rengui would be moved to let him go.

Sure enough, Xue Rengui was ecstatic. Slapping his thigh, he proclaimed, “I knew you were a spirit fox! If it happens as you predict, when I make my name, I’ll hire a servant just to care for you, feeding you fish and meat every day!”

Zhou Hongxian was nearly in tears, thinking, “This is not the result I wanted! Won’t you just let me go?”