The villagers were chattering amongst themselves. An Ning stared at the Huang Daxian, feeling that something was odd.
'It... doesn't seem to be dead.'
An Ning used the tip of her cane to poke the Huang Daxian's belly. It didn't move.
She poked it again, a little harder this time, feeling as if she were tickling someone.
"Hey, hey, hey—I think it moved."
"Did it move, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?"
"It's alive?"
Many of the villagers rubbed their eyes, trying to get a clearer look.
An Ning, understanding what was happening, smiled and said, "Get up."
Xiao Lang, beside her, unwillingly nudged closer, its gaze stubbornly insisting: 'Impossible.'
"Don't be so hasty. You'll see in a moment."
As An Ning's words fell, the weasel, which had a wound on its neck, miraculously climbed to its feet.
Before the astonished eyes of the crowd, the Huang Daxian clasped its two front paws together and bowed to An Ning.
