Cang Ming
In the cave where the storm has just subsided, the little fox has just shed the last traces of its fox ears.
"My, my, this batch of lightning tribulations just isn't up to par..."
A chuckling voice floats in from outside the cave, where a figure in black hangs upside down, swaying from a peach tree branch.
"It struck for three hours, yet didn't even singe the little fox's cuff..."
He suddenly flips and lands on the ground. "Just asking, by the way..."
Cang Ming's shadow looms over, those perpetually narrowed peach blossom eyes suddenly drawing close.
"Little fox, who taught you your fate? How is it so... chaotic? Almost as if it were born specifically for me."Please log in to continue the conversation.