Chongge seized one of the enormous chicken’s wings in his teeth and tried dragging it toward his cave. At the moment he was still a little fox barely larger than a human palm. The bird was so massive that no matter how desperately he tugged, until even his teeth ached, he could not budge it.
There was nothing for it but to change into human form. In that form he looked like a boy of eleven or twelve wearing a short tunic. Because he had only just learned to transform, he could not yet assume a complete human shape: his tail still stuck out behind him, and his pointed fox ears remained upright on his head.
Once he had turned human, he finally managed to move the enormous chicken. Gripping its wings with both hands, he dragged it all the way to his little mountain cave.
He deposited the chicken on a mat of dry grass and sat down beside it, breathing heavily. Its dripping feathers promptly soaked a large patch of the mat. Chongge studied the bird again. Its feathers were much too wet. If the chicken meat turned sour from being soaked, it would surely spoil the taste.
Chongge changed back into a fox, leaped onto the bird’s back, and painstakingly wiped its feathers with his tail. Dragging the chicken home had already taken a great deal of strength, and by the time he finished drying its feathers he was exhausted. He jumped down, pulled a soft cushion beside the bird, curled up on it, and fell fast asleep.
In his dream he sat beside a bonfire. An enormous plucked mountain chicken had been skewered on a pine branch and suspended over the flames. The chicken turned slowly of its own accord. Its skin had roasted to a gleaming golden yellow, and fat dripped continuously into the fire with a delicious sizzle. The fragrance of roasting chicken was extraordinary, the finest smell in all the world…
Chongge drooled happily in his sleep and smiled like a fool.
When he awoke from that wonderful dream, he opened his eyes sleepily and was startled by a blaze of dazzling colors in front of him. He sat bolt upright on his cushion.
The strange, blinding colors came from the chicken’s feathers. They had dried completely. The quills were vermilion, the tips shimmered in five brilliant colors, and the long tail feathers glowed faintly as though dyed with the light of sunset.
They were the brightest and most beautiful chicken feathers he had ever seen! Chongge stared at the great bird, which seemed to radiate rainbow-colored light. C-could it really be a divine chicken raised by an immortal? And if it was a divine chicken, was its meat safe to eat? Might eating it give him a stomachache?
He nudged the bird with his nose. Its feathers were so beautiful that he wanted to pull one out to keep.
He moved around to its tail. Three magnificent tail feathers stood out from the rest. Chongge caught the middle one, which he thought was the prettiest, in his teeth, set a forepaw firmly against the chicken’s rump, and gave a mighty tug.
The tail feather did not come free. Instead, the bird’s body stirred slightly.
Chongge nearly jumped out of his fur. He immediately released the feather, sprang aside, and spat the down that had stuck in his mouth while he was pulling.
The enormous chicken moved again.
Chongge darted a long way back, then cautiously circled around to its head and found himself staring into a pair of jet-black eyes.
The chicken had opened its eyes! It had merely been unconscious, not dead at all.
The fox and the chicken stared at each other. Suddenly a voice said, “Why is there a little fox here?” It sounded icy, yet so pure and clear that it was exceptionally pleasant to hear.
The chicken moved its head and slowly surveyed its surroundings. Then the voice spoke again. “Why am I in this tiny cave?”
The voice seemed to be coming from the chicken’s beak.
The enormous chicken could talk!
Aha! It really is a divine chicken!
Gathering his courage, Chongge replied, “I’m the one who dragged you here.”
The chicken’s glossy black eyes turned toward him again, apparently studying him. “Oh? So this little fox can speak? Are you a fox spirit? But I sense no demonic aura about you.”
Chongge sat up straight. “I’m not a fox spirit. I’m a Heaven-Eclipse Fox.” Ordinary foxes that turned into spirits by practicing unorthodox arts were called fox spirits, and Heaven-Eclipse Foxes, born with immortal roots, considered them inferior and looked down on them. “I dragged you back here because I was going to eat you!”
Even if this mountain chicken could talk and was therefore a divine chicken, it was still a chicken. Foxes ate chickens. That was perfectly natural, and Chongge declared his intentions with complete conviction.
The big chicken gave a laugh. Chongge thought he detected a hint of disdain in the way it looked at him. “You? And how were you planning to eat me?”
Chongge answered truthfully. “Pluck out all your feathers, then roast you over a fire.”
The bird laughed again. “So you were the one pulling at my tail feathers just now?”
Chongge’s silence was admission enough.
The chicken said, “Little fox, do you know who I am?”
Chongge replied, “Aren’t you a mountain chicken?”
The bird’s gaze abruptly turned icy. A cold, threatening chill seemed to radiate from its whole body.
Chongge ventured carefully, “Of course, you can talk, so you’re definitely not an ordinary mountain chicken. Are you a mountain chicken raised by an immortal up in Heaven? A divine chicken?”
The chicken’s expression grew colder, and the chill emanating from it deepened.
Chongge suddenly felt an invisible pressure bearing down on him and could not help shrinking back.
Perhaps the bird was angry because he wanted to eat it. If it was a divine chicken, it probably took its dignity very seriously.
As Chongge gazed at its riot of glorious colors, his heart softened inexplicably. He made a tentative suggestion. “Since you’re a divine chicken, and you can talk, how about this? I won’t eat you. You can be my chicken, and I’ll look after you. What do you say?”
Among his fellow foxes, it was quite common for those who were cultivating to keep spirit beasts of a lower immortal rank. Doing so was said to improve their cultivation and earn a little immortal merit. Most of the older foxes kept ordinary foxes, martens, or wolf spirits, however. As far as he knew, none had ever kept a chicken.
That was probably because a superb divine chicken like this was so hard to come by. The older foxes of his clan had simply never had the chance.
Chongge swished his tail as he thought it over and decided that it was an excellent idea. He did not know whether eating divine-chicken meat might make him ill. Besides, the bird was large, colorful, and beautiful; keeping it would certainly give him something to boast about. And since he probably would not get another chance to eat meat anyway, he might as well keep a living chicken beside him. He could look at it whenever he liked and remember the taste of chicken.
The chicken showed no reaction at all to his proposal. Its gaze remained cold. Chongge reasoned with it. “Look, I dragged you back here because I wanted to eat you, but since I haven’t eaten you, that means I saved you. You ought to repay me, shouldn’t you? And if you become my chicken, I’ll definitely treat you well. I’ll give you the best food and drink. You won’t feel the slightest bit mistreated.”
By now the chicken’s cold gaze had become an outright sneer. It said languidly, “Very well. I’m badly injured and can’t fly for the time being, and of all things, I happen to encounter a foolish little fox like you… Do as you please. If you still want to eat me, you’re welcome to keep trying.”
Chongge shook out his fur and declared with great solemnity, “I promise I won’t eat you.”
The chicken cast him another chilly glance, smoothed its feathers, and closed its eyes.