On both sides of the stone chamber, there were several fist-sized small openings, seemingly man-made. They were skillfully carved, allowing light to shine in and air to circulate, yet without letting in the wind.

William Grant was sitting in front of the stone chamber, studying and pondering over "The Martial Canon."

On the other side, Little Susan, Little Sarah, and Little Faith, three little white foxes, were busying themselves around a large clay pot, from which the aroma of chicken wafted out.

They were stewing chicken.

The chicken was a fine mountain pheasant, which had fed on pine nuts in the mountains, so the fragrance of the stew carried a hint of pine.

The foxes had caught this wild pheasant in the mountains while it was snowing, saying it was to give William Grant an extra meal.

The stone chamber was stocked with food, oil, salt, firewood, rice, and all kinds of seasonings like soy sauce and vinegar. There was no fear of being snowed in.

After living in the valley for a few days, William Grant realized that this group of foxes had completely left behind their savage, animalistic ways. Not only did they read and practice writing, but they also learned to speak human language, to farm, to cook, to eat oil and salt, to sleep on beds laid out in the cave, and they cleaned up every day, bathed, and kept everything neat and tidy.

At the other end of the stone chamber were several smaller rooms, where some foxes lay lazily on the ground, sleeping in a relaxed manner.

Although it was a den of foxes, there was not the slightest animal stench, and it did not affect William Grant's reading at all.

Mr. Foster, the old fox, was also in the stone chamber, but remained motionless, clearly his spirit had left his body to wander.

On such a snowy day, this old fox, who had cultivated to a profound level, was about to go out on patrol—first, to guard against hunters taking advantage of the snow to hunt, and second, to strengthen his spirit.

This old fox had already reached the level of roaming by day.

"It's really hard to practice martial arts, with so many taboos. Without a teacher's guidance, it's easy to make mistakes when exploring on your own."

As William Grant read, he closed "The Martial Canon," feeling a wave of disappointment.

After several days of reading and pondering, he had roughly grasped some principles of martial arts.

Cultivating martial arts was by no means easy. First, there were many requirements regarding diet. Beyond that, the human body was complex and delicate; a slight carelessness could lead to problems. The first step, training the flesh, was recorded in the Martial Canon with over a hundred methods and dozens of martial arts, but it was unclear which were superior or inferior, or whether practicing them would cause deformities.

Moreover, William Grant also realized that the "Martial Canon" compiled by the Great Qian Dynasty probably contained many unreliable parts.

After much thought, William Grant decided not to practice recklessly.

"It seems that the path of martial arts is truly hard to enter. No wonder the imperial examinations of the Great Qian Dynasty abolished archery and horsemanship. How could ordinary people have the chance to practice? I’d better wait for Miss Yuanfei to appear and ask her for details. A scholar should not be ashamed to ask questions."

This group of foxes did not know martial arts; martial arts were for training the human body, and as foxes, they could not cultivate it.

……

Western Mountains.

Amidst the swirling snow, a group of people on horseback, accompanied by hunting dogs, carrying bows, and dressed in luxurious fur cloaks, entered the mountains.

It was clear that these people were nobles of great status and wealth.

This was evident from the horses they rode.

Among these horses, the smallest was over ten feet long and eight feet tall, snorting strong white breath in the wind and snow, their eyes wide open against the storm, showing no fear or cold. Their strong, powerful bodies, long slender legs, and flawless, glossy coats all showed that these were no ordinary horses.

Anyone skilled in horse breeding in the Great Qian Dynasty would recognize these as "Fire Cloud Horses" from the distant kingdom of Huoluo. Their bodies were dark red, and when they ran, they looked like clouds of fire, hence the name.

These horses did not eat grass; every meal had to be soybeans mixed with eggs, and their care was extremely particular. In the Great Qian Dynasty, each horse required three to four grooms to tend to it day and night—ordinary people simply could not afford to keep them.

But these horses were also extremely swift and enduring, able to carry a rider a thousand miles in a day, and were highly intelligent, never abandoning their master. They were prized possessions for wealthy nobles and aristocratic families, who would spend thousands of gold coins to acquire them.

Among the group entering the mountains, four were riding horses—two men and two women. Several others, dressed lightly but showing no fear of the cold, followed behind the horses. Their eyes were cold and proud, their movements swift as the wind, keeping pace effortlessly.

Clearly, these were elite guards raised by noble households.

"Princess, I heard news from the palace the day before yesterday. For some reason, Consort Yuan has been promoted to Imperial Noble Consort."

Among the four, one was a young man, none other than the "Young Duke of Liguo," Charles Grant.

Another woman was Emily Grant.

The other pair, a man and a woman, appeared even more noble and dignified. Both wore pure white fox fur cloaks; when snow fell on them, a gentle shake would make it slide off, like water rolling off a lotus leaf.

The woman was the Princess Yongchun, daughter of Prince Rong of Yujing City, with the imperial title Yongchun, Princess Taylor.

The man, tall and with a high nose and eagle eyes, though not as graceful as Charles Grant, exuded an intimidating aura.

He was the heir of Prince Cheng, James Baker.