Chapter 195: Let’s Run, Fox (XI)

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Chapter 195: Let’s Run, Fox (XI)

With the food crisis largely resolved, the gloom that had hung over the tribe disappeared. Everyone threw themselves into preparations for the cold season.

During the day, Shang Ke tended the garden, pickled vegetables, brewed fruit wine, and sewed hides. Mutu handed all of his private possessions over to him as well—including food, pelts, precious metals, and rare minerals—openly treating Shang Ke as the partner who managed his household. Once the cold season ended, Mutu planned to formally ask the elders to enter their names in the tribal register and establish a family together.

Although it was uncommon for a Lion King to form a household with another male, same-sex unions were accepted among beastfolk of this era. In any case, the position of Lion King was not hereditary. Anyone with sufficient courage and strength could challenge for the title.

“Fox!” Mutu swept into the room in a thick fur coat, strode straight up to Shang Ke, and grinned with suspicious delight.

Shang Ke gave him a strange look.

Mutu pulled something from inside his coat, tail wagging behind him. “For you.”

In his palm lay a pendant shaped like a tiny gourd. It was ivory-white, delicate, and rather adorable.

Shang Ke took it and examined it closely. It was a small bone flute carved from animal bone. The design was simple, but every surface had been painstakingly polished smooth. Mutu had obviously put a great deal of effort into making it.

“I made this bone flute myself. If you ever want me, blow it and I’ll come immediately.” Mutu thumped his chest with absolute confidence.

Shang Ke fell silent. This was the first time he had ever met someone who made his own “dog whistle” for his owner—and did it with such natural, unselfconscious enthusiasm…

He happily accepted the gift and hung it around his neck. When he looked up, Mutu was staring at him with a radiant expression, tail wagging furiously behind him.

Shang Ke smiled, looped his arms around Mutu’s neck, and rewarded him with an enthusiastic kiss.

Mutu immediately looked satisfied from head to tail, like a huge cat that had finally been petted properly.

Over the next half month, the lions hauled in plenty of fish from the frozen lake. As the weather grew increasingly severe, everyone agreed to pull their nets one final time before ending the season’s fishing and hunting.

The group arrived at the frozen lake in high spirits, found the places where they had set their nets, and began hauling them in with practiced ease.

Shang Ke did not join in. Instead, he searched the surrounding area for useful materials and minerals. This world contained many unusual natural resources. One was the snowrock tree, which produced salt crystals. It grew in deep valleys, drawing minerals from underground brine channels. Its branches bore neither leaves nor flowers; after three rainless days, white salt crystals would condense across them. Nothing else grew around the trees, leaving the entire area strangely silver-white.

There was also a kind of berry whose juice was exceptionally thick. Mixed with fat, it could be worked almost like flour and used to make flatbreads, steamed buns, dumplings, and other foods with a distinctive flavor.

There were many similar ingredients, all naturally occurring, nutritious, and clean.

While he was searching, terrified shouts suddenly erupted in the distance. Shang Ke turned and saw a bizarre scene on the far side of the lake: a vast stretch of forest was flash-freezing, layer after layer of silver-white ice spreading rapidly toward them.

“The Deathfrost Vortex!” The beastfolk dropped their tools and fled in panic.

“Fox, run!” Mutu shouted as he sprinted away, seeing Shang Ke still staring at the phenomenon.

Shang Ke reacted at once and turned to flee. With the lake between them, he and Mutu were forced to run in opposite directions along their respective shores.

The Deathfrost Vortex swept toward them at terrifying speed. Blade-like currents of frozen wind shrieked through the air, and wherever they passed, frost flashed into existence beneath a killing cold.

Mutu could only watch as the fox vanished from sight, frantic but powerless to reach him. Then something even more terrifying happened: the Deathfrost Vortex swept across the lake and curved toward the direction Shang Ke had fled.

The people on Mutu’s side escaped the danger zone, but Shang Ke and the few who had fled along the opposite shore were in immediate peril.

Shang Ke ran flat out without daring to look behind him. The land around him was open and empty, as though he were the only living creature left beneath the sky. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing and the shriek of the frozen wind drawing closer at his back.

Wind had no solid form and could slip through the narrowest crack. Out here in the open, there was nowhere he could possibly hide from it.

A killing chill brushed Shang Ke’s back. Death was scarcely a step behind him. Then a fast-flowing river appeared ahead. His eyes lit up, and without hesitation he leaped into it.

As his body left the bank, frost was already crystallizing over the tip of his tail. He hit the water with a splash just as the Deathfrost Vortex howled across the river. The spray he had thrown into the air froze instantly, hanging above the surface like a blossoming flower of ice that glittered coldly beneath the winter sky.

Even the rushing river froze over, sealing Shang Ke beneath a solid sheet of ice.

Shang Ke held his breath, gripping aquatic weeds with one hand while pounding at the ice overhead with the other. The ice was not especially thick, but submerged in freezing water, his entire body had gone stiff. He could barely summon any strength. His thoughts were shutting down, his fingers were numb, and his heart felt as though it might stop at any moment.

Trapped beneath the dark, freezing ice, Shang Ke was engulfed by despair and fear. Through his fading consciousness, a familiar figure seemed to appear before him, and memories surged in like a tide—happy, painful, sorrowful, beautiful…

No, I can’t die!

Shang Ke’s mind jolted awake. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to draw the dagger at his waist and drove it upward with the last of his strength. Crack! A web of fractures spread across the ice.

He stabbed and chipped at it again and again until, just before his strength gave out, the ice finally broke open.

Shang Ke dragged himself through the opening and immediately drove the dagger deep into the snowy bank, using it as an anchor to keep himself from sliding back into the water.

After that, he had nothing left. He lay there gasping weakly, pale mist spilling from his lips with every breath. Snow drifted on the wind, and a thin layer of frost quickly formed over his hair, eyelashes, the corners of his eyes, his arms, and his exposed upper body.

Everything around him was white and utterly silent. Half of Shang Ke’s body lay on the bank while the rest remained submerged, and he no longer had the strength to move. Unable to speak, he could not even call for help. He could only cling weakly to the snowy edge and shiver uncontrollably.

Was it going to end here? Shang Ke refused to accept it. If he had any choice, he never wanted to endure another inexplicable separation by death. In the past, he had treated completing missions merely as a means of survival. Now he felt that every lifetime was truly his own life—and he should be the one to decide what happened to it.

Fuck you, System. You tell me to die and I’m supposed to obediently die? I’m going to live just to spite you!

Anger gave Shang Ke another tiny burst of strength. With his free hand, he groped around desperately for anything that might help. His fingers suddenly brushed an object at his chest—the bone flute Mutu had given him.

Life flared back into Shang Ke’s eyes. Trembling violently, he raised the bone flute to his lips and blew with all the strength he had left. A clear, carrying note rang out, echoing across the frozen landscape and rolling into the distance.

Mutu had been following the frozen trail left by the Deathfrost Vortex in search of Shang Ke. Its path covered an enormous area and repeatedly split into separate streams that scattered in different directions. The bitter cold also dulled a beastfolk’s sense of smell, preventing Mutu from tracking accurately. All he could do was search for traces along the way.

As time passed, Mutu grew increasingly frantic. Every additional moment made Shang Ke’s chances seem smaller, but until he saw a body with his own eyes, he refused to give up.

Then, from far away, came the faintest sound of a flute. Like a beacon in darkness, it instantly illuminated Mutu’s entire world.

His heart slammed wildly in his chest. Hope blazed in his eyes as he sprinted toward the sound with the speed of the wind.

Fox. Fox! He called the name over and over in his heart.

But when Mutu burst out of the woods, the flute abruptly stopped. Ahead lay a small river whose once-rushing current had frozen solid.

Mutu’s heart clenched. He hurried downstream along the frozen river.

Not long afterward, his steps stopped dead. A frozen splash of water stood beside the river like an ice flower. Following it toward the bank, he saw a figure sprawled across the snow, covered in a thin layer of frost and powdery white, utterly motionless.

Mutu’s pupils contracted sharply. He rushed to Shang Ke, dropped to both knees, and reached out with a trembling hand to check for breath.

It was faint—but he was alive!

Mutu nearly threw back his head and roared his relief to the heavens.

Forcing down the surge of emotion, he carefully lifted Shang Ke out of the water.

One look at the hole smashed through the ice was enough for Mutu to guess what Shang Ke had endured. Somehow, under circumstances like these, his fox had still fought his way back to life. Mutu thought he was incredible.

The body in his arms was icy and stiff, the breathing barely perceptible. Shang Ke’s naturally pale skin had taken on an almost translucent coldness. His once-soft, fluffy hair was crusted with frost; the slightest touch sent tiny grains of ice falling away.

Mutu’s heart twisted. He noticed the dagger still clutched in Shang Ke’s left hand and reached to remove it, only for an icy hand to stop him. Looking down, he realized Shang Ke had opened his eyes.

“Fox, you’re awake! Thank goodness. I’m taking you home right now.” Mutu gathered him tightly into his arms, trying to warm him with his own body heat.

Shang Ke greedily soaked in Mutu’s warmth and listened to the powerful heartbeat against his ear, once again savoring the joy of surviving.

“Let me get the dagger out of your hand first.” Mutu reached for it again.

Shang Ke avoided it and shook his head.

Mutu was confused until he realized the dagger had frozen to Shang Ke’s hand. Forcing the fingers open now might tear away skin and flesh with it.

Mutu wrapped both hands around that frozen one. Heat burned behind his eyes while his heart cramped painfully.

This was not the first time he had felt such heartache. Somehow, it seemed like a pain he had experienced long ago—and then suffered again and again.

As though sensing Mutu’s emotions, Shang Ke managed to move his tail and lightly brushed its tip across Mutu’s cheek in comfort.

Mutu gazed down at him, tightly suppressed anguish darkening his eyes.

Shang Ke opened his mouth and silently formed three words: Take me home.

Mutu’s gaze softened. He lifted Shang Ke into his arms and strode toward home.

The moment they returned, the lions crowded around in relieved surprise, asking anxiously about Shang Ke’s condition.

Mutu had no attention to spare for them. He ordered hot water brought over, carefully removed Shang Ke’s clothes, and slowly warmed his body with heated towels. Only after every trace of ice had melted did he lower him into warm water.

Shang Ke’s skin was frostbitten in several places, and some of his recently healed wounds had split open again. Yet not a trace of pain showed on his face. From beginning to end, a faint smile remained on his lips.

“Fox, I’m sorry.” Mutu stroked his wet hair, voice thick with pain. “If only I had found you sooner.”

His fox had spent at least two hours alone beneath freezing water with no way to call for help. Mutu could not imagine how desperate that must have been. Shang Ke was not merely one of his tribesmen—he was the person Mutu loved—yet time after time, Mutu failed to protect him.

Shang Ke slowly lifted the bone flute hanging from his neck and pressed a kiss to it. Then he raised his head, kissed Mutu gently on the lips, and met his eyes with a clear gaze. Thank you, Mutu. The bone flute you gave me saved my life. So don’t blame yourself.

Shang Ke had a growing feeling that fate’s hold over them was weakening. Sooner or later, the day would come when they truly controlled their own lives and no longer had to endure one inexplicable separation after another.

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