Once caught in the trial of love, there is no escaping it.

Since the time when Pangu split open heaven and earth, the pure qi floated upward, and the turbid qi sank downward, thus distinguishing heaven from earth.

(NT: Pangu was the first being in Chinese mythology. He emerged from a cosmic egg that contained the primal chaos. Pangu separated the clear yang (light, pure energy) that floated upward to become Heaven, and the turbid yin (heavy, impure energy) that sank to form Earth. When he finally died, his body transformed into the features of the natural world)

Between heaven and earth, spiritual qi surged, gradually forming the many gods. Meanwhile, beneath the ground the turbid qi spread, and all living things began to emerge.

Thereafter, a thousand years passed. Mortal beings worshipped and revered the gods, while the gods maintained the cycles of creation and destruction between heaven and earth. Each abided in its place, without interference or further words.

Until, in a certain human dynasty.

One day, the general who guarded the Southern Heavens, drunken on strong wine, accidentally struck and broke a heavenly pillar of the south, causing heaven to tilt by three inches.

In just an instant, spiritual qi leaked downward through this fissure, transforming into sweet rain that fell into the human world.

Then grasses, trees, birds, and beasts, receiving this immortal qi, found opportunity and fortune, and cultivated into yao (NT: spiritual demons).

As yao, they could command the winds and summon the rains, and could also draw on human essence and lifespan for their own use. Those who attained the Dao could even be born with the seven emotions and six desires (NT: traditional Buddhist-Daoist concept of human emotions and desires), no different from living humans.

For a time, the mortal realm was disturbed by these yao-spirits, living beings were plunged into suffering, and this roused the great rage of the Heavenly Lord.

Thus the gods convened and resolved to send down the Northern Heaven’s God of War to the mortal realm, to slay the yao-spirits and restore peace.

*

It was said that the divine and the human were of different realms, and when a god descended into the mortal realm, nine-tenths of his power was stripped away. Hence, apart from the God of War, Fang Linxuan, none could bear this responsibility.

That night, heaven gave birth to a rattling radiance, flowing light suddenly appeared. A meteor fell from the Northern Heavens, descending into a lush bamboo forest in Jiangnan, its greenery stretching for acres, verdant as dripping jade.

After a rustling sound, there rose a figure from within the forest.

He was eight chi tall, his waist like a sturdy bamboo, bearing a bright and upright form, stern and clear in bearing, holding single-handed a seven-chi jade spear. Silver armor draped with a brocaded robe, a jade belt encircling his frame, brilliance dazzling upon him.

At that very moment, a sharp sound arose, carrying with it a rootless yin wind (NT: a wind of demonic origin), sweeping forth from behind.

The divine general did not move—already the jade spear rang out with a clang, cold light bursting forth.

In a turn of his body and a lift of his arm, the spear tip swept across fallen leaves, rustling as it struck out like icy light piercing the moon.

From within the yin wind, foul blood splattered. The one who wielded the yin wind to take lives turned out to be a black bear demon, over a zhang in length. With a crash, it fell dead, staining the bamboo forest black.

Yet the divine general stood with spear in hand, black hair whipped up by the cold wind.

Though the foul blood had splattered everywhere, not even the tip of his spear nor the soles of his boots were tainted in the least.

*

But the murderous aura still lingered.

The divine general furrowed his brows slightly, sensing at the edge of the grove the presence of further demonic qi.

He followed the evil aura step by step. The farther he went, the denser the qi grew, until before him gradually appeared its true form: a vast temple, several zhang high, stretching for several li, golden rooftops shining, dazzling in brilliance.

But how could such an ancient temple exist in this desolate mountain?

Upon the golden roof shone radiant light, one hundred and eight Buddha statues seated or reclining, their faces showing compassion, yet between their brows faintly revealed a sinister evil.

The divine general gathered his spirit, stowed his jade spear with one hand, and stepped into the temple.

The vast ancient temple contained no monks—empty, desolate, the yin aura all the more terrifying.

The general strode straight through, passing halls of golden Buddhas, heading directly to the meditation chamber.

Above the chamber the bright moon hung. Two scholars stood on a stone table, whispering and laughing, peering across the courtyard wall.

Beyond the wall, evil qi roiled, nearly solidified.

“Who goes there!” The moment the divine general saw one scholar leaning halfway over the wall, his thunderous shout startled the two so much they nearly tumbled down.

“We are but traveling scholars, entering the capital to sit the examinations. Passing this place, we borrowed lodging…” said one.

“In the courtyard next door lives a household—seems to be mother and daughter,” said the other.

In an instant, the evil qi gathered, as if to flee. The general had no time for other concerns—he leapt forth, grasped in the void, and conjured a jade spear, striking straight at the vital gate of the demon.

What mother and daughter? That old woman, revealing her true form, was clearly a blue-faced, tusked rakshasa ghost (NT: a man-eating demon of Indian-Buddhist origin adopted into Chinese mythology) !

The rakshasa died at once, but only part of the evil qi dispersed. The divine general’s eyes flashed like lightning, and turning swiftly, he saw the windows burst open with yin wind, sand and stones flying—the lair of yet another demon.

The divine general leapt inside, his jade spear splitting the darkness.

There within the chamber, gauze curtains fluttered, incense smoke coiled. Amid the drifting haze, eighteen folding screens were set out, each painted with attendant maidens, graceful in bearing, eyes alluring.

With one stroke of the spear he tore through the embroidered screens.

Behind them lay a heap of crimson silks. In its midst curled a figure, shoulders and neck white as fresh snow, black ink hair flowing loose. From beneath it, revealed half of a bright red fox tail.

Luxuriant, bewitching brows and eyes like a demon’s, hands like slender plum branches pulling up brocade, yet beneath the shoulders a chest firm and taut—

It was a fox who had cultivated into a spirit.

A male fox.

*

The Heavenly Lord once decreed: the Nine Heavens’ Jade Spear only slew those demons already tainted by karmic sins.

The Divine General furrowed his brow, standing before the fox demon. With one hand he summoned into the air a scroll of celestial judgment. Under its cold gleam, he saw that although this bewitching demon reeked of evil aura, his entire body bore not the slightest trace of bloodstained karma.

It was a demon who had only just taken form.

The Divine General, adhering strictly to the Heavenly Lord’s command, stowed away the Demon Ledger and turned to leave.

But unexpectedly, the fox spirit crawled forward; as the brocade robe slipped down, a hand clutched at the hem of the general’s garment.

The Divine General turned back, about to speak, yet beneath the crimson brocade he glimpsed a dazzling expanse of pale, snowy skin, the fox’s great tail swaying softly. At once he turned away, not daring another look.

“I am a fox of Qingqiu (NT: mythological place in Chinese folklore inhabited by fox spirits). My true name is Zhao Chu. By the blessing of the gods I was able to take human shape, yet was seized here by a Yaksha (NT: fierce, demonic spirit or guardian, often appearing in Buddhist temples). She forced me to assume a woman’s form, to lure passersby here so she might slaughter and feast upon them.”

The fox demon spoke in human tongue. Even with the bloodied Jade Spear before him, he showed not a flicker of fear—his eyes glowed with feeling, fixed upon the Divine General.

“Today, to be rescued by a hero—it is truly a gift bestowed by Heaven.”

Yet the Divine General stood unshaken. His gaze swept past the fox demon’s eyes faintly glowing red; with a flick of the spear he slashed through his own garment, severing the piece the fox had grasped.

“Put away your charms,” the General said.

Exposed, the fox demon was not angered. With disheveled robes and a smiling gaze, he replied:

“General, save me.”

*

After releasing the two scholars, the Divine General still brought the fox spirit with him.

This demon’s power was unfathomable; to leave him here would surely endanger the land.

He ordered the fox to put proper robes, then commanded him to conceal his tail. The demon obeyed with unusual docility, mimicking his commands and trailing closely behind. Yet his eyes, brimming with entangled affection, never once strayed from the General.

The Divine General, who for a thousand years had never been entangled by love or desire, how could he be bewitched by a fox spirit? He wore a stern face; whenever the fox walked at his side, not once did he glance at him.

The fox demon was never angered. Day after day, he followed at his side, watching him subdue demons and beat out spirits.

Until one day, deep within the Kunlun Mountains, a snow wolf demon wreaked havoc there. It had absorbed the souls of hundreds from three villages, its power immense. The Divine General nearly could not withstand it.

The wolf demon launched a sudden assault from behind, fangs bared—at the critical moment, the fox demon placed himself in its path.

The Jade Spear pierced through the wolf’s throat; it collapsed with a thunderous crash. But the fox demon’s blood too spread across the ground.

That night, the Divine General carried the fox into a mountain cave, lit a bonfire, and tended his wounds.

“Why did you save me?” the General asked.

The fox demon gave no answer, only a smile. Though half his robes were soaked crimson, he still crawled toward the General, his breath warm, his great fox tail coiling around the General’s back.

“Does one such as I, a lowly demon of wicked origin, dare hope for the care of a god?” the fox asked.

The General did not answer, but again turned his eyes aside, not daring to look.

“General, what I ask has never been much.” The fox climbed onto his chest; with fingers twining and caressing, he awakened within the Divine General an emotion long dormant, untouched for thousands of years.

Foxes of Qingqiu, from birth, were beasts of seduction, masters of attractiveness, their allure most fearsome.

As the fire crackled, the General remained steadfast—yet the flames licked at his resolve.

The General seized the fox’s arm.

“Heaven and earth forbid this. If I break the precept, my divine power will be harmed,” the General said. “Down.”

At these words, the fox only laughed softly. His body swayed like blossoms, and suddenly he pressed the General beneath him. With his tail teasing, his breath like silken threads, fingers tracing and binding, he deceived the General until he could no longer move.

“Fear not, General,” he said. “I can do it for you.”

That night, as the bonfire flickered, the fox spirit indeed broke the General’s precept on his behalf.

Red silk was wrapped around the Jade Spear; as flames flared, the Divine General, bound in the fox’s heavy coils, was forced to beg before he was permitted to brak the vow.

And the General’s divine power, indeed, was not diminished.

Yet once ensnared by a fox spirit’s charm, one enters the tribulation of passion.
(NT: literally “calamity of passion”; in Daoist/Buddhist tales, it refers to a karmic trial of love or desire that can cause downfall for ascetics or immortals.)

Once caught in the trial of love, there was no escaping it.

In the years thereafter, the world knew only this: that when the god descended to purge demons, he transformed one fox demon, guiding him toward goodness, so that he never again caused harm.

As for being bound by the fox spirit, nights of revelry, a cycle of life and death with no salvation—these remained unspoken, unknown to mortals.

End

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Note from the translator

Thank you for reading this beautiful story

Translator : DarNan

Source: mythologyvault.com