Yang Yuran bid goodnight and retreated into her room. After a quick wash, she lay on the bed pondering the evening's unfinished task—the naming.
Thoughts entered a dead-end loop, and before long, sleep had taken her.
The scene in her dream remained unchanged: the old valley, the malevolent spirits, the obnoxious Nine-tailed Fox.
The only change was that Yang Yuran was enveloped in a faint golden light and her size had greatly increased. Judging by her volume alone, she was a match for the fox.
With this change came the chance to alter the failed conclusion. Yang Yuran bravely charged forward, entangling in combat with the fox, determined to wipe away the shame of her previous defeats.
Her claws targeted the fox's face, furiously scratching and leaving deep gashes. Of course, her own condition wasn't much better than the fox's. But as long as there was a fight to be had, who would want to remain the underdog forever?
After over a dozen rounds, Yang Yuran retreated in defeat.
