Heaven-Subduing Scripture

Torrential rain, rolling thunder.

The mountain path grew slick. On the rocky hill, a group sought shelter from the storm and came to the Five-Tong Temple beside the road.

Most in the group were household guards, blades in hand, protecting a young man and a young woman.

The man wore a scholar’s robe of silk, his face fair and youthful; he supported a girl in a white dress, and the two kept exchanging lingering glances.

”Cousin, it’s warmer in here — come quickly!”

The girl was lovely of feature. She stepped into the Five-Tong Temple, a little frightened, a little disdainful, yet seeing the downpour outside, she sat down beside her cousin all the same.

As for the guards, they could only stand in the rain with their Conical hats, keeping watch — none might enter the temple, for the girl’s dress was wet and her curves showed faintly through.

”Cousin, it’s so gloomy here — I’m a little afraid…”

The girl hugged her knees, looking delicate and pitiful.

The scholar seized the chance to gather her into his arms; a smile touched his lips, and the sudden rain bothered him no longer.

He was a scholar on his way to the capital for the examinations; passing through Xinyang County, he had gazed at the brilliant stars by night and taken a sudden fancy to climb and view the moon — never expecting fair skies to turn in an instant to a great storm.

As for why he brought a tender young cousin on the road to the exams — well, the journey is lonely; those who understand, understand.

Beneath the idol, in the old temple.

The scholar’s hands began, slowly, to wander…

As the two were entangled in rapture, the guards outside stirred in alarm. The scholar frowned. ”What is it?”

He rose, shoved aside the censer before the idol, and overturned the table to shield his cousin’s exposed charms.

Only then did the guard captain dare enter and kneel. ”Young Master — a wounded white fox.”

The scholar was somewhat annoyed; such a trifle, to disturb his pleasure?

He was about to scold, when the cousin cried excitedly, ”A white fox? Let me see, quick!”

The scholar waved a hand; the captain hurried out, and soon returned carrying a white fox.

The instant they saw the white fox, the girl’s eyes lit — and even the scholar could not help but glance again and again.

What a beautiful white fox!

Slim and well-formed, its fur white as snow, flecked with raindrops, trembling; its great blue eyes full of pleading.

Most striking — a dagger was sunk into its hind leg, and blood dripped unceasingly.

The girl’s heart near broke. She did not mind the dirt, but gathered the white fox into her arms and stroked its soft fur.

This is a copy of the author’s chapter taken without consent; NovelPhoenix is where the author publishes it.

Only she did not see: when the white fox glimpsed the overturned censer on the ground, a flicker of venom crossed its eyes.

The scholar took keen interest in the ancient sword at its leg. Born to a great house, he saw at a glance the blade was no common thing — likely something old.

”Quick, draw the sword for it — and mind you don’t hurt it.”

At the scholar’s order the captain carefully pulled free the ancient sword and even dressed the fox’s wound with golden-trauma salve.

None noticed: the moment the sword left its body, a glint of excitement flashed in the white fox’s eyes, and it flicked out a forked tongue.

The scholar wiped the sword clean and, by candlelight, studied its fine, fish-scale grain; his eyes lit the more.

”Hah! This young master is blessed of heaven — this blade is very likely the ancient Fish-Intestine, one of the Ten Famous Swords of the Spring and Autumn!”

”I hear His Majesty loves fine swords and good horses best. When I reach Chang’an, I shall present this sword to the Emperor — a white fox offering an auspicious omen, as it were!”

Yet as his face shone with excitement, a cold voice rang out.

”Sir, to take my sword and offer it to the Zhenguan Emperor — is that not a bit brazen?”

The scholar started and snapped, ”Who goes there?”

In the next breath, a green-robed figure appeared in the rain — long hair loose, Daoist robe soaked through, looking somewhat bedraggled, yet his gaze was keen and bright.

The guards at once barred the Daoist’s path, suffering none to approach.

Li Daoxuan looked at the guards before him, then at the Fish-Intestine in the scholar’s hand, and said calmly, ”This one is Li Daoxuan, a man of the mountains. This sword is what I use to subdue demons — I beg you return it to its owner.”

The scholar sneered, stood in the temple, and gazed at Li Daoxuan, drenched like a drowned rat. ”Absurd. If you say it’s yours, it’s yours? What proof?”

Li Daoxuan was about to speak.

The scholar demanded loudly, ”Little Daoist, I ask you — you say this sword serves to subdue demons. Then what demon did you subdue?”

”A serpent demon.”

No sooner had he spoken than all the guards roared with laughter; in the scholar’s eyes shone a flicker of contempt.

Li Daoxuan frowned, puzzled why they laughed so.

Then the girl, hugging the white fox, pointed at Li Daoxuan and said angrily, ”You little Daoist do tell tall tales — a serpent demon? This is plainly a lovely little white fox!”

Li Daoxuan’s gaze sharpened; he met the white fox’s eyes across the space.

In but one look, Li Daoxuan knew it was no white fox, but the serpent demon — for in its eyes showed plainly a glint of mockery and hatred.

This serpent demon not only bore dragon-horns upon its head, but commanded the art of transformation!

In this moment Li Daoxuan suddenly felt this serpent demon’s origins were no simple thing. He recalled how, when he had tried to kill it, fair skies had suddenly burst into a storm, as if even heaven itself helped it escape.

And it had fled to the Five-Tong Temple, happening upon a party of people, so it could turn into a white fox, play the pitiful, and seek shelter.

This serpent demon… it would seem to carry some fortune of destiny upon it.

The scholar called to Li Daoxuan, ”Little Daoist, there are women in this temple; it is inconvenient for others to enter. Be off, lest—”

He raised a hand; the guards at once drew the blades at their waists, and in an instant cold steel glinted, ringing without cease.

Li Daoxuan looked upon those bared swords, and his gaze slowly cooled.

The air grew taut, sword-points at the ready.

The rain poured; it had washed loose Li Daoxuan’s wooden hairpin and soaked his long hair, which dripped bead by bead from his chin to the earth.

After a long while, a bolt of lightning flashed, lighting his eyes — clear and cold as a sword.

That gaze sent a chill through the scholar’s heart.

”It is no white fox, but a serpent demon in disguise. Since you will not heed counsel, this poor Daoist takes his leave.”

With that Li Daoxuan turned and slowly withdrew from their sight.

Only then did the guards sheathe their blades.

”Tch. Coward!”

”I was already foul-tempered in this wretched weather, wanting someone to take it out on — and he ran?”

”Heh. Merely a charlatan. A serpent demon? Fit to die laughing!”

The guards held the young Daoist in utter contempt, and chattered on.

The girl hugged the white fox and said indignantly, ”Perhaps that little Daoist wounded Snowflower, and meant to sell its fur for silver — truly devoid of conscience, shameless!”

”Snowflower?”

The girl hugged the white fox and said to the scholar, ”Yes — that’s the name I gave it. Pretty, isn’t it?”

”Not bad. Its fur is like snow; the name is most fitting.”

The white fox narrowed its eyes and nuzzled against the girl’s breast, drawing peals of coy laughter from her.

The scholar laughed along — only, whether illusion or not, he always felt this white fox looked at his cousin with a rather… lascivious gaze.