Su Zhiyun watched A Ran stare blankly at the night sky where the Fox Immortal had vanished.
The fleeting thrill that had overwhelmed her with amazement faded quite a bit.
Feeling a bit of sympathy, she walked over to A Ran and gently supported her trembling shoulders.
“A Ran, come inside. It’s cold out here.”
Su Zhiyun’s voice softened as she helped A Ran carefully step over the broken door panels and ashes on the floor, guiding her to sit on the only intact wooden stool inside the hall.
A Ran obediently sat down, but her gaze remained unfocused, staring into the empty darkness outside the door.
“Lord Fox Immortal… is gone again…” Her voice was thick with nasal congestion and deep disappointment.
“I didn’t even… get to thank him properly…”
Seeing her like this, Su Zhiyun sighed helplessly.
Then she crouched down to meet A Ran’s eyes and forced a smile.
“Don’t worry. We’ll definitely see Lord Fox Immortal again.”
That was as much for A Ran as it was for herself.
The moment she’d first laid eyes on the Fox Immortal, an indescribable feeling had stirred in Su Zhiyun’s heart.
She wanted to figure out whether it was just amazement at his beauty… or something else.
A Ran fell silent after hearing Su Zhiyun’s words, saying nothing.
Seeing that, Su Zhiyun tugged at her hair in frustration.
She really didn’t know how to comfort someone…
“A Ran?”
She hesitated, then called out again.
A Ran snapped back to reality at Su Zhiyun’s voice.
‘That’s right! As long as I keep worshipping Lord Fox Immortal sincerely, I’ll definitely see him again!’
‘This time, Lord Fox Immortal appeared and protected me, didn’t he?’
With that thought, her heart finally felt a little better.
A Ran looked up at Su Zhiyun and gave a faint smile.
‘Lord Fox Immortal saved me—not so I could be sad!’
Seeing the relieved smile finally return to A Ran’s face, Su Zhiyun’s tense heartstrings also relaxed.
She patted A Ran’s shoulder gently and consoled her.
“There, it’s all right now. Lord Fox Immortal will definitely come again. See? He’s been protecting us all along.”
A Ran nodded vigorously, clearly agreeing with Su Zhiyun.
After confirming A Ran was fine, Su Zhiyun turned her gaze to the mess by the door.
Shattered door panels lay scattered everywhere, the door frame was crooked, and the night wind poured freely into the ancestral hall, making the candle flames flicker and bringing in a chill along with the lingering smell of scorched ash.
“This broken door…” Su Zhiyun frowned.
A door that didn’t work was no good.
Without shelter at night in the hall, who knew what unclean things might be attracted here?
Jiu Baiyun hadn’t come back yet.
She’d have to handle this herself for now.
“A Ran, go rest inside for a bit, or tidy up the incense and offerings. Leave this to me.”
Su Zhiyun said to A Ran, trying to sound confident and reliable.
A Ran glanced at the broken door, then at Su Zhiyun, worried.
“Miss Su, can you really handle this? Maybe we should wait for Brother Jiu…”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry!”
Su Zhiyun waved her hand to cut her off.
“Fixing a door is a piece of cake. Go on in, don’t catch cold.”
She didn’t want A Ran to worry, or to seem completely useless.
Besides, Jiu Baiyun had lured the monsters away; who knew when he’d be back.
Having seen the speed of those mountain sparrows, Su Zhiyun was well aware that shaking them off would be quite difficult for Jiu Baiyun.
Even though the system showed a safety rate, she still couldn’t help feeling anxious, but she didn’t let it show on her face.
Watching A Ran obediently turn to tidy the incense sticks by the offering table, Su Zhiyun walked over to the pile of broken door panels.
She crouched down and pretended to fumble around in her clothes.
“Sigh, when it counts, I have to rely on you…” she muttered quietly, with a helpless, self-deprecating expression.
With a thought, a somewhat worn, dusty toolbox materialized in her hand.
It wasn’t big.
Inside were a hammer, nails of various lengths, a small coil of rope, a small piece of wood that looked like it was meant for patching, and some wooden wedges.
Su Zhiyun weighed the unremarkable toolbox and curled her lips.
‘Tch. After finishing that crappy quest to help the old carpenter find his lost chisel, all I got was this thing, and it called itself an ‘essential toolkit for life skills.’”
She grumbled inwardly about the system’s stinginess and unreliability as she got to work.
First, she roughly pieced the scattered large door panels back into the frame, then used wooden wedges to temporarily hold them in place.
‘I thought I’d never use this in my whole life… but who knew it would come in handy today.’
She picked up the hammer, aligned a nail, and started hammering with a slightly clumsy hand.
The sound of nails sinking into wood rang out clearly in the silent hall.
Clang, clang, clang.
Though her technique wasn’t professional, it was clear she had some idea of what she was doing.
After driving the last wooden wedge into the gap between the frame and the temporarily reassembled door panel, she yanked on the rope binding to make sure it was tight enough to withstand the wind and small disturbances.
Then she straightened up and rubbed her sore lower back.
“Done!”
She brushed the dust off her hands and looked at the door—crooked, full of cracks and patches, but at least it could close.
She finally breathed a sigh of relief.
At least it would block the wind and give the people inside a little psychological safety.
She unconsciously peered through the gaps in the door at the moonlit open ground outside and frowned.
Beyond the door, there was nothing but the pile of eerie remnants the Fox Immortal had burned to ashes and the broken gap in the fence where it had been smashed.
“Why isn’t Jiu Baiyun back yet?”
While she’d been busy fixing the door, the worry had been suppressed.
Now that she had a moment of free time, her heart rose again.
‘Could something have really happened?’
Su Zhiyun thought of the overwhelming swarm of weird sparrows, and anxiety started to build.
‘No, I have to check!’
“System! System! Come out! Can you check on Jiu Baiyun’s status? Where is he? Is he alive or dead?”
After thinking it over, Su Zhiyun could only turn to the system.
She wasn’t Jiu Baiyun—she had no cultivation at all.
Going out now would be suicide.
[Ding!]
A cold notification sound rang out, and a translucent interface unfolded before her eyes.
[Target Individual: Jiu Baiyun.]
[Status Query Request: Denied.]
[Reason: Exceeds basic system inquiry authority. Current system function modules have not unlocked this ability.]
“Ugh! You useless system!!!”
Seeing the display, Su Zhiyun couldn’t help cursing.