Now… time for some daydreaming.
Cumin-roasted chicken drumsticks, whole roasted lamb, pea and beef soup, grilled steak, cream of mushroom soup, white bread, aloe vera juice, braised goose, roasted chicken, ham, soft cheese, roasted foie gras…
Lying on the ground, half-starved, Fate’s mind flickered with memories of feasts past. Drool trickled unconsciously down her petal-soft lips.
She swallowed hard.
Her rations were left behind at the village gate.
Channeling *mo su*, converting it into *yi*—the process drained far more energy than she’d imagined. Her body, no longer as resilient against hunger, collapsed after just one use of the *Xue Cheng Xin Jue*. Now she could only lie there, waiting for someone to feed her.
But out here in the wilderness… where would food even come from? The goblins had been blasted to dust. Nothing remained. Could she really survive on grass roots and mud?
Even if life had grown lean, she was still human—her dignity couldn’t sink *that* low.
Might as well sleep. Sleep dulls hunger.
Fate wasn’t new to roughing it. Yet… sleeping out here like this felt unsettling. Why? She couldn’t say.
Ugh…
Utterly drained. Her limbs felt pinned beneath a boulder, movement nearly impossible.
Staying still might be safest—but Fate sensed it: sleep until dawn, and she might starve in her dreams.
She twitched a finger. Each one weighed like lead.
Hungry. So hungry…
She tried not to picture the floating drumsticks and lamb legs—but the moment she blinked, they danced before her eyes.
Hunger became unbearable. Reluctantly…
A peach-white glow enveloped her. The golden-haired girl shrank. Radiance faded. A tiny white fox rustled, struggling to push herself up.
Strange—shifting under her Fox Demon Bloodline felt far less taxing. Maybe this small body simply needed less energy.
Moonlight filtered through bare branches, gilding her spotless white fur in silvery light.
Due to childhood shadows, Feitao disliked her Fox Demon Bloodline—and foxes. But now, this "energy-saving form" was her only hope. To Feitao, starvation was the cruelest torture imaginable.
*Ah-choo!* A drifting fox hair tickled her nose.
Allergic to foxes—one more reason she avoided the Nine-Tailed Form.
"Foxie… Huh? *Sniff sniff sniff!*"
Her petite nose twitched wildly. Dignity forgotten, she dropped onto all fours, three fluffy white tails swaying eagerly behind her.
Nose working furiously, she locked onto a patch of grass nearby.
She scrambled over—tripped on a pebble—tumbled like a fluffy fox ball right to the edge.
After smoothing her ruffled fur, Feitao parted the grass. Sure enough: a modest burrow.
The goblins’ hidden lair. Too tight for an adult human, but perfect for her tiny frame.
*Squelch.* She slipped inside. Heterochromatic eyes scanned the dim tunnel. Following her nose, she found the loot stash.
The "door" was a stolen wagon wheel. With effort, she shoved it aside. Firelight revealed the contents—and Feitao’s eyes sparkled like starlight. Drool dripped freely.
Starving fox, dive in!
"So much yummy food, nya~!"
She dove headfirst into the pile, clutched a slab of smoked meat, bared tiny fangs, and chomped happily.
Smoked meat, canned goods, pickled veggies—all non-perishables. Not noble cuisine, but to her famished senses, pure delicacy.
"Foxie… *munch munch*…"
Paws propped on a can-mountain, she munched with blissful abandon.
Material conditions shape consciousness. Back then? Feitao would never have acted so undignified.
Dozens of smoked strips, ten-plus cans, bundles of pickles later—she finally felt full. Oily muzzle, licking meaty traces from her paws, still craving more.
(Unbeknownst to her: she’d just devoured half a year of the goblins’ rations.)
What goes around comes around. The plunderers never imagined *they’d* be plundered—blown to bits, loot becoming another’s "dowry."
"Foxie…"
Rubbing her round belly, sleepiness washed over her. A yawn. Heavy eyelids. Curled against the can-mountain, her three tails tucked snugly around her like a blanket.
Full~ Time for sleepy-sleepy~
Foxie ZZZ…
