“Indeed, many humans will do anything for their own gain.” Lixue nodded, her agreement settling like frost on a quiet window.

Selling the Foxfolk as slaves lines pockets with clinking coin, at least for common men; merchants chase that glitter like carp to bait. The Foxfolk are thin reeds in the wind—push them, and no one speaks up.

“We tried to resist the ill-intentioned merchants and the tiger- and wolf-kin,” Letiel said, her voice a worn blade. “War after war rolled in like bad weather. We Foxfolk lose every battle, and our numbers fall like leaves.”

Pain clouded her face. She sighed and stared at the endless sky, a bird too tired to fly. “We’re too weak. In a world where the strong eat the weak, we can’t keep a fire lit…”

“…Hearing this, it feels like the Mizumi Clan might be useless,” I muttered, the thought like a cold stone in the gut.

“The Mizumi Clan doesn’t meddle outside,” I added, a little bitter smoke in my tone. “Dad and Mom even dumped my little sister on dear big brother to raise. Outside matters? They’re driftwood to us.”

“Can’t help it. The Mizumi Clan lives like a lazy lake,” I exhaled, letting the surface ripple.

Truth is, we’ve sat on the Central Continent for centuries like a mountain. Since our ancestor ended the world-shaking wars a thousand years ago, we haven’t added much to the world’s harvest.

Take my father—the current head of the Mizumi Clan. He lounges like a cat in sunlight, barely minding house affairs, and there are barely any of us left at the main house. Outside storms don’t touch him.

“No! My lords, please don’t say that,” someone blurted, voice trembling like a drumskin. “Because the Mizumi Clan exists, the world won’t slip back into that war-torn age!”

“…”

…

We walked and talked, and the Foxfolk’s situation unfolded like a worn map. Just as Elaria said yesterday, if we hadn’t come, a tidal calamity would hit. Their strongest is only high-ranked Saint-tier—the current chieftain, Letiel’s father. Most others are everyday Foxfolk with no bite.

Most fighters died like sparks in the past rebellions. It’s a bitter ash.

Meanwhile, the tiger- and wolf-kin rank among the top beastkin; their tribes hold several God-tier heavyweights. Humans? Murky fog, but likely no worse.

Given that storm, it’s a miracle the Foxfolk still stand like a lone lantern—though the wind’s close to snuffing it. If we hadn’t felt like helping, the next rebellion would be their last winter.

Without noticing, we reached a courtyard with old grace—moss on stone, petals on air. Behind it rose a refined building unlike the street’s low roofs, maybe five or six floors, a slender pine in the district.

“This is where the chieftain and elders reside. Please, come in.”

“Mm.”

We followed a pebbled path hugged by flowers, crossing a small sea of color, and reached the door. We stepped in behind Letiel.

…

On the fifth floor, before a carved wooden door marked “Council Room,” Letiel knocked—knock, knock. “Father, the Foxfolk are saved this time!”

She reported with a bright lift in her voice and pushed the door open like sunlight breaking clouds.

Inside, decor and layout were chosen with care, like brushwork on silk. Several middle-aged and old Foxfolk elders sat along a long table, each face veiled in gloom. The man at the head resembled Letiel, and his bearing stood apart like a taller tree. That should be her father, the Foxfolk chieftain.

“Letiel?! You’re back so fast? The tiger- and wolf-kin didn’t trouble you, did they?”

Before we could react, her father flashed to us like a gust and fired questions. Elaria’s grandfather did the same—she’s the vice chieftain’s granddaughter, after all, a branch with weight.

The other elders couldn’t just sit like stones. They gathered and peppered them with questions, eyes wary as foxes in snow. As for us, they watched but held their tongues, waiting for the chieftain’s lead.

When Letiel and Elaria laid out the story from root to crown, their elders dropped to their knees, sudden as a thunderclap. It startled us.

“My lords of the Mizumi Clan, you came to this poor corner and still chose to aid the Foxfolk,” they cried, voices thick as river mud. “We’re grateful beyond measure! Not greeting you properly at once was a grave sin. Please forgive us this once!”

“Please!!!”

“Kneeling is a Foxfolk custom?” I pinched my brow, helpless as a man in drizzle. “You two, fix this. I don’t like talking to people kneeling.”

“Ahaha… You’ve made us look bad, my lords.”

“Chieftain, Grandpa, please stand. The Mizumi lords dislike kneeling.”

A few minutes later…

“My lords, forgive the earlier scene.” The man with striking features and a tall, willow-like frame bowed with deep respect. “I’m Yakura of the Golden Fox, current chieftain of the Foxfolk. I offer the highest respect to your arrival.”

“The old one here is Likos of the Silver Fox, vice chieftain,” another said, wiping cloudy tears with a shaky hand. “Thank you for coming! The Foxfolk finally see a dawn.”

The other elders followed suit, introducing themselves like sparrows on a branch, gratitude bright in their eyes.

We offered brief introductions in return, enough to weave a first thread.

“Yakura, I heard from Letiel that the tiger- and wolf-kin target you because of merchants. What’s the core of it?” I asked, tossing the question like a stone to find the river’s depth.

If we don’t grasp the root, any fix is a paper umbrella in a storm. Even if I tell other beastkin and those merchants to stop, once we leave, old habits return like weeds.

“It’s simple,” Yakura said, a bitter taste like tea too steeped. “My lord, how do you feel about our Foxfolk lands?”

“Mm… The scenery’s fine, like a painting, but I feel a lack of life. It doesn’t suit living.”

Exactly. The Foxfolk dwell deep in the forest, yet this forest is poor soil. Food is scarce. Clear water is rare. No land fit for crops. Fruit and wild greens barely show their faces. In such ground, survival is a thin flame.

“As you said,” Yakura continued, a sigh like wind through dry reeds. “It’s not just us. All beastkin live in barren mountains, starved for resources. To live, we pay the price of becoming human vassals for crumbs.”

He lowered his gaze. “You understand, my lord: weaker beastkin aren’t vassals—they’re slaves.”

“Those merchants are vile!” Lingxiao snapped, anger flaring like a struck match. “Who bullies people like that?”

“Maybe, to those merchants, beastkin aren’t ‘people,’” Lixue said, voice cool as winter water. “And behind them, nobles and imperial houses stand like tall walls. Without that backing, merchants wouldn’t dare a large-scale move against beastkin. They’d cross the interests of high-ranking humans.”

“You’re right, Lord Tianyu,” Yakura said, a sudden pulse of excitement, storm clouds pierced by light. “Most merchants do have nobles and imperial families behind them. We were ready to face extinction. We never imagined we’d see you arrive.”

“I get the picture,” I said, the problem coiling like a serpent. “So, what next?”

I chewed the thought. How do we free the Foxfolk for good? The Mizumi name can’t shelter them forever. And many beastkin, like foxes, are weak branches—cat-kin, dog-kin, and more. If we don’t sort their inner divisions, we’re just trimming leaves.

“Mizumi-kun, leave it to this dragon!” Lanxia drew herself up like a mountain. “Any who defy, this dragon will erase.”

“That’ll only spark stronger backlash,” Lingsaki cut in, sharp as a blade’s edge. “We can’t just wipe out everyone who bullies the Foxfolk, right?” She turned to Yakura. “What bait do merchants use to set tiger- and wolf-kin on you? Resources, isn’t it?”

“Miss Mizumi, your eye is keen,” Yakura replied, respectful as a bow under moonlight. “All beastkin lack resources—tiger and wolf-kin included. Filthy merchants exploit that hunger and split what was once a united people.”

“If we don’t solve the internal rifts, it won’t hold,” I murmured, feeling the knot like a thorn.

The beastkin’s greatest crisis is pressure from outside and fractures within. Saving one clan is a drop in a dry field… but our goal was to help the Foxfolk. Why am I thinking of saving all beastkin?

Helping the Foxfolk is easy. I could give Colton a word and see it done. Saving all beastkin? The Ice Rock Empire can’t cradle that ocean.

Forget it. Help to the end, but don’t drown. I’ve got time to spare.

“Yakura, how many beastkin are there now? Where do they live?”

“That’s… hard to pin down,” he said, conferring with elders like owls in low talk. “Most beastkin breed fast, aside from rarer kinds. Conservatively? About one-third of humanity’s number. As for where… the four continents other than the Central Continent all have them. The vast majority live on the Northern Abyss Continent.”

One-third of humanity… over a billion souls, a sea without shore. No. Saving all beastkin is a castle in clouds, and not needed.

After a short think, I chose to let the big dream go like a kite in too-strong wind. Don’t aim past the horizon. Handle what’s right before us.

In other words, we help the Foxfolk, and that’s enough. As for all beastkin… I don’t have the hands for that net. I won’t wield the Mizumi Clan’s full weight for it. I’m not that selfless.

…