The Fox King

Chapter 37: No Typical Fox Demon

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Zhe Huo made a little cough, and patted the boy on the head. “Of course you haven’t. You’re only a child.” Her expression askew, she turned to Tao Feiyan. “Sir, please don’t tease my Qinghan so. You’re frightening him.”

“Oh, frightening him, am I…” Feiyan echoed faintly, and tittered. His resplendent robes swished as he wiped the mirror he held.

Luo Qinghan’s eyes narrowed, a subtle light flickering behind that gaze.

The wind began to pick up.

“Our prey has arrived.” Holding his umbrella aloft, Feiyan sauntered over to a shadier spot, and leaned against the stone counter-top. His gorgeous eyes were radiating merriment. “Zhe Huo darling, let me see how good you are.”

Zhe Huo sensed that something was amiss. She didn’t mind if Tao Feiyan really planned to just sit idly by and wait for his share of the spoils—the wasp demon had to go down, one way or the other, and she’d be showing off in front of the hot guy, so it was all good with her—but Qinghan was clinging to her tightly, to the point that it was restricting her movements. Carefully, she began, “Qinghan—”

Immediately, his grip on her tightened even further. Then she heard his soft voice whispering in her ear, “The wasp demon has three poisoned quills sticking out of its head. Pluck out the golden one in the middle, and it will lose all ability to attack, allowing you to cut it down with impunity.”

Zhe Huo’s eyes lit up at this information. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “Really?”

Qinghan grunted in re-assurance. Seeing Zhe Huo’s eyes filling with admiration towards him as before, he finally smiled a little.

And then there was a sudden gale, and a deafening flurry of wings. Zhe Huo steeled her resolve, already drawing back her whip. Perhaps Qinghan was scared, because next he whispered to her, “Zhe Huo, I’ll get off now, and wait for you back here.”

That would afford her much more freedom of movement, so she was all for it. However, after she’d put Qinghan down and set out to face the wasp demon, Qinghan himself strode calmly over to Feiyan, the boy giving the man a chilly look. Without a word, he hopped up onto the stone counter-top and sat down, resting both hands upon the stone face. Silently, he watched Zhe Huo, showing no signs of the fearful, vulnerable pretense he’d been putting up earlier.

Seeing this change come over him, Feiyan regarded him curiously, and then gave a little laugh. He turned to watch the fight as well, but drawled in the boy’s direction, “Little one, you don’t seem like a typical fox demon.”

Qinghan sneered, his blue eyes cold. “Mr Tao, have you ever heard of this?” he hissed. “If a thousand-year-old flower demon is pickled in plum blossom wine and then buried beneath a plum tree for a hundred and eighty years, the resulting taste is quite remarkable, comparable to the finest wines in all the land.”

“Oh, so you’ve tried it yourself?”

“Yes—in fact, not only have I tried it, I’ve even made it myself before.” Qinghan chuckled as he fixed Feiyan with an unwavering gaze.

Feiyan returned the gaze in kind. And then, another little laugh escaping him, he turned away again without concern.