Chapter 1
"Ever serene and tranquil—"
Mount Zhongnan, Taiyi Peak...
The last wisps of morning mist had yet to dissipate. Xuanming sat cross-legged beneath an ancient pine, silently reciting the Scripture of Clarity and Tranquility in his heart.
At this moment, his Dao mind was perfectly clear, immersed in the profound state of "forgetting both self and things."
But as the final syllable fell, the sea of clouds and swaying pines before him shattered instantly.
No warning. No transition.
His mind lake, clear as a mirror, was suddenly flooded with ten thousand tons of boiling oil.
"ROOOAR—!!!"
A roar filled with ultimate venom exploded deep in his soul.
Xuanming's eyes snapped open.
Where was Mount Zhongnan?
All he saw was an endless expanse of crimson.
Viscous, scorching, malevolent.
This felt like the deepest layer of hell. The air wasn't wind—it was hatred made solid: suppressed rage, imprisoned humiliation, the unwillingness of being treated as a mere weapon.
"What… is this place?"
Agonizing pain surged through him. Xuanming felt his spiritual awareness evaporating like dew dropped into lava—gone in an instant.
Shattered memory fragments sliced into his mind like razor blades: a colossal fox, a man with golden hair, the Reaper's seal, an infant's cries…
Have I… deviated into demonic cultivation?
If this were an ordinary person, the massive influx of memories would have shattered their mind already, dissolving them into the ocean of resentment.
This wasn't illusion—it was a tangible mental storm.
Faced with this hatred capable of drowning the soul, Xuanming's spirit felt as fragile as thin paper.
It wasn't just tearing; countless negative emotions surged to crush his reason—slaughter, destruction, devouring.
If my heart wavers, I die without a doubt!
No golden light shielded him. No system came to the rescue.
In that life-or-death instant, Xuanming relied solely on instincts etched into his soul.
As his consciousness teetered on collapse, he forcibly gathered his thoughts, pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and instinctively formed the "Zi-Wu Hand Seal" he had practiced millions of times.
"If the heart is as clear as ice, even heaven's collapse brings no alarm; amid ten thousand changes, still…"
Mouthing lines from the Heart-Calming Scripture, he desperately visualized the Taiji Diagram that always hung in his Daoist meditation chamber.
Guarding his original mind—this was the only way he could think of to resist assimilation.
Something miraculous happened.
Xuanming had never cultivated any true magical power; his years of practice focused on nurturing the heart and pursuing the Dao.
But in this world, mental energy formed a vital part of chakra—and chakra could interfere with reality.
As his consciousness stabilized amid the storm and he successfully visualized that "still Taiji," the surrounding chaotic red chakra responded to a higher resonance.
It stopped crashing wildly and began flowing according to Xuanming's "imagination." Even its color purified into clear, deep blue.
With his mind steady, Xuanming sensed the shift.
He began channeling this power to suppress the more violent, same-origin malice.
"Be… subdued!"
Xuanming roared inwardly, pouring fifteen years of heart cultivation—every ounce of essence, qi, and spirit—into that single thought.
BOOM—
The Taiji Diagram he had only imagined now manifested from purified blue chakra within him!
Black and white chakra swirled, rising into the air to form a hundred-meter-wide giant Taiji symbol. Its strange power halted the raging scarlet sea of resentment.
The malice ocean let out an unwilling wail. Once Xuanming steadied his mind, it lost its chance to assimilate him.
The crimson energy retreated, drawing Xuanming's spirit back with it—revealing his current form.
Opening eyes as large as millstones, he surveyed the situation.
A mountain-sized body occupied half the prison, covered in thick orange fur, sprawled in a spread-eagle pose. Nine massive tails lay limp, their tips twitching unconsciously now and then.
The cause of this bizarre posture: golden chains erupting from the ground, binding his limbs, torso, and tails—the chakra-forged "Adamantine Sealing Chains," not physical yet stronger than any steel.
Xuanming realized the body's strangeness and abnormality. He had fused with this fox, infected by its countless malicious memories and hatred.
He loathed being bound in this position, but he also noticed the space wasn't entirely real.
It resembled the inner spiritual platform he entered during meditation—when purging distractions and returning to the mind's core. The earlier rampage of resentment was a spiritual battle within this fox's inner world.
Yes… now I am this fox.
He struggled again, testing the chains' strength. Truly helpless. Was he doomed to remain immobile forever?
All he could do was repeatedly recite the Scripture of Clarity and Tranquility and Ice Heart Formula to truly stabilize his mind—and think of a way out.
Suddenly, he realized: his current fox body was made of that malicious scarlet energy, while the counterforce had been purified blue energy.
Though little purified blue chakra remained after subduing the malice, perhaps… it could form a body allowing free movement?
Manipulating the energy felt instinctive to the body. As soon as Xuanming willed it, that thread of azure chakra responded.
Confirming the method, he continued visualizing.
This time, not the Taiji diagram—but his original human form.
As the visualized image sharpened in his spiritual platform, the blue energy transformed accordingly.
A cross-legged human figure rose from the fox's forehead—Xuanming the Daoist in appearance.
Opening his eyes in delight, he stood and flexed his limbs. It worked.
He examined himself. Something felt off.
At some point, his plain cyan Daoist robe had turned red, flowing with dark golden cloud patterns that faintly outlined the fox's form.
Lifting a strand of hanging hair—his once jet-black long hair now blazed brilliant gold.
Worse still, as his hand moved upward…
On either side of his head, a pair of fluffy golden fox ears twitched faintly with his breathing.
Behind him, a large, fluffy tail cluster hung down.
Xuanming closed his eyes and sighed, leaping down along the great fox's forehead to land on its face, standing before the pupil.
Through the fox's vision, he clearly saw every change: a golden-haired, fox-eared, nine-tailed Daoist in red robes—half-human, half-fox.
He raised a hand to the center of his brow, where a black-and-white Taiji mark rested.
Xuanming understood: the malice had only been forced back inside, suppressed by his mind. This wasn't a permanent solution.
"Fortune and boundless Heavenly Venerate…" Xuanming gave a wry smile, gazing at his own demonic reflection in the fox's eye. "How did this poor Daoist turn into a fox demon?"