Merin enters his estate as the carriage comes to a stop.
The moment his boots touch the ground, voices rise.
"Brother!"
"Merin!"
"You're back!"
His younger brother Duan Lin rushes forward first, followed by uncles, cousins, and several elders of the Duan household, their faces a mixture of relief, awe, and restrained fear.
Servants kneel.
Guards straighten.
Even those who have seen battle hesitate before stepping close.
Merin raises a hand.
"I'm fine," he says calmly. "I need rest."
The words carry weight.
The family members exchange looks and step aside at once.
No questions.
No celebration.
They have heard rumours, too many of them, and instinct tells them now is not the time.
Merin walks through the corridors of his estate, his steps steady but his body still heavy from exhaustion.
At the doorstep of his room, he stops.
He turns slightly toward the man following a step behind him.
"Uncle Chen," Merin asks, voice neutral, "I didn't see Wenji anywhere?"
Housekeeper Chen pauses.
For a fraction of a second, surprise flickers across his face, then understanding.
"Lord," he answers respectfully, "Lady Wenji went to the royal palace to treat the Seventh Prince."
Merin's brows knit faintly.
So today is the day.
Lady Cui's decision.
The treatment selection.
And the sleeping case, still unsolved in its entirety.
"I see," Merin says.
He nods once.
"Uncle Chen, invite my team captains and Ye Wen for evening tea."
"Yes, Lord," Housekeeper Chen replies. "Please rest well."
Merin steps inside and closes the door.
The room falls silent.
He does not go to bed.
Instead, he sits down in a chair beside the table and exhales slowly.
Then he speaks.
"Come out."
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then a movement stirs within the folds of his robe.
A tiny white spider crawls out, no larger than a fingernail.
It jumps.
In midair, its body expands.
When it lands on the table, it is the size of Merin's palm, legs delicate, abdomen faintly translucent.
A voice speaks.
Female.
Cold.
Clear.
"Who are you?"
Merin studies the spider.
Its aura is weak.
Ordinary.
If not for his Dao, he would never have noticed it.
But beneath the surface, coiled like a sleeping dragon, is Saint-realm Dao.
A clone.
He answers evenly.
"I should be asking that question."
The spider tilts its head slightly.
"I am Ye Weiran," it says. "The White Spider Saint."
He does not hide his hostility.
"Why are you trying to invade this small world?"
The spider does not answer immediately.
Instead, it walks slowly across the table, its legs making faint tapping sounds.
Then it stops and looks up at him, if such a thing can be said of a spider.
"You are not from the human world," Ye Weiran says calmly.
Merin's eyes widen, just slightly.
The spider's mandibles twitch in something like amusement.
"The Supreme World's struggle for the throne should have already begun," Ye Weiran continues.
"So you are a genius sent out to gain experience."
Merin exhales.
The surprise fades.
It makes sense.
She is a Saint.
She has crossed realms.
Understanding his origin is not strange.
But her next words make him frown.
"Then why," Ye Weiran asks curiously, "are you still in the Inner Refining Realm?"
"With your Dao, you could mobilise the power of Heaven and Earth and step directly into Soul Awakening."
Merin's expression darkens.
He does not answer immediately.
Then he explains, briefly, precisely, about the poison, his forced reincarnation, the poison on his former Dao, and the need to rebuild it step by step to the Nine Flower stage to overcome the residual contamination.
Ye Weiran listens.
When he finishes, the spider lets out a faint hiss.
"The alien races are truly vicious," she says flatly.
Merin nods once.
"They are."
He looks at her again.
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Why invade this world?"
Ye Weiran answers without hesitation.
"For cultivation."
Merin frowns.
"Cultivation?"
"Yes."
Ye Weiran's voice grows instructive, almost academic.
"You've already noticed that the cultivation system here differs from that of the Supreme World."
Merin nods.
"Very well," she says. "Then listen carefully."
"To bypass the Supreme Throne and advance to the Supreme Realm, the Supremes created the Divine Soul cultivation path."
"The first five realms before Soul Awakening," she continues, "are merely foundation realms, used to prepare the soul."
"After Soul Awakening comes Soul Enlightenment: creating a rudimentary form from your Dao."
"Then Soul Transformation: using your Dao to reshape the soul and awaken the hidden True Spirit."
"After that comes the True Spirit Realm, what you call the Saint Realm."
"In that realm, the Dao takes shape, and the True Spirit fully awakens."
Merin's attention sharpens.
Ye Weiran's voice remains steady.
"The Saint Realm is divided into thirty-six steps."
"And to climb those steps," she says, "faith is required."
Merin's pupils contract.
"Faith?"
"Yes."
"After Saint comes Divine Spirit Realm, what you call Quasi-Supreme."
"And finally, True God Realm, the Supreme."
Merin is silent for several breaths.
"So from Saint onward," he says slowly, "cultivation shifts from Law to faith."
Ye Weiran affirms it.
"Comprehending Law can take you far," she says, "but to transform True Spirit into Divine Spirit, faith is indispensable."
Merin leans back in his chair.
The implications settle in.
A small world.
Faith.
Worship.
Sacrifice.
Everything the Black Fang Palace attempted makes horrifying sense.
"So you needed belief," Merin says quietly. "That's why you tried to descend."
Ye Weiran does not deny it.
"This world is small," Ye Weiran replies softly.
"But it is pure."
"Unclaimed."
"No Saint has ever been born here."
Merin does not ask why her followers massacred villages.
He already understands.
Fear is faith.
Crude, volatile, unstable—but easy to harvest.
Devotion takes generations.
Terror takes moments.
And for cross-world descent, for tearing open a passage between realms, nothing fuels it better than life energy torn violently from living beings.
Especially in a world as untouched as this one.
Ye Weiran's spider body turns slightly, her many eyes reflecting faint lamplight.
"Why don't you ally with me?" she asks.
Merin looks at her calmly.
"Why would you want to ally with me?" he asks in return.
"Wouldn't it be better if the faith of this world belonged to you alone?"
Ye Weiran pauses, then answers honestly.
"With you here," she says, "it will be difficult for me to subdue this world."
Merin's lips curve faintly.
"And why," he asks, "should I share this world with you at all?"
The spider's legs tap against the table.
"Because," Ye Weiran replies, "I can create trouble for you."
Her tone remains mild.
"And because I can give you my scripture."
Merin's gaze sharpens.
"It will help you comprehend the laws of this world," she continues,
"and rebuild your Dao faster than you could alone."
Silence stretches between them.
Merin weighs the offer.
A Saint's scripture.
A shortcut to harmonising with the local laws.
A tool to accelerate recovery without exposing his true strength.
The cost, however, is future entanglement.
After a few seconds, he speaks.
"Alright," he says.
"But you give me your scripture first."
Ye Weiran does not argue.
She nods.
A faint white-gold light flows from her body and surges into Merin's forehead.
Information floods his mind—complex, layered, profound.
When the transfer ends, Merin exhales slowly.
Ye Weiran speaks again.
"When you advance to the True Spirit Realm," she says,
"You will share your scripture with me."
Merin inclines his head.
"I will."
"Now," he adds, "get out."
The spider shrinks rapidly, becoming no larger than a grain of rice.
It hops off the table and slips through a narrow opening beneath the door.
Gone.
Merin remains seated for a long time, absorbing the scripture.
Only after committing it fully to memory does he rise and head to the bath.
—
Several hours later, inside the royal palace—
Yu Diexin stands within the mind realm of the Seventh Prince.
The dreamscape trembles as she severs the final red-black thread binding his soul.
The cocoon around the prince's spirit cracks.
Then dissolves.
Diexin opens her eyes and straightens.
She turns toward Lady Cui.
"Lady Cui," she says calmly, "my treatment is complete."
Lady Cui's expression tightens.
"Then why hasn't my son awakened?"
Diexin answers without hesitation.
"Wait," she says.
"He will awaken any moment now."
As if responding to her words, the Seventh Prince's eyelids shudder.
Slowly.
Trembling.
Then they open.
Lady Cui gasps and pulls him into her arms, tears streaming freely.
Minutes later, after physicians rush in and attendants fill the room, Diexin withdraws quietly.
Before she leaves, the Seventh Prince looks at her.
There is something in his gaze—recognition, confusion, and a depth of emotion only he understands.
Diexin does not linger.
She returns to the Duan estate.
There, she learns that Merin has already returned.
But he is in retreat.
She does not insist on seeing him.
Instead, that evening, she entertains Merin's subordinates, hosting tea and food with perfect composure.
Only when the night deepens does Merin finally appear.
The moment she sees him, she walks forward and wraps her arms tightly around him.
No calculation.
No seduction.
Just relief.
She does not pretend.
Inside, she tells herself that Merin is part of her plan.
That his survival is necessary.
But deeper still, beneath strategy and revenge, she feels something raw and unsteady.
Fear.
Worry.
Attachment.
She realises she has already begun thinking of herself as his wife.
Not in name.
But in truth.
She releases him gently and lets him speak with his subordinates.
Then she retreats to his room and waits.
When Merin finally enters, exhaustion written into every line of his body, she does not hesitate.
She takes the initiative.
She jumps onto him, laughter and warmth breaking the tension.
They fall onto the bed together.
And when dawn arrives, they are already asleep—side by side, unaware that the world has shifted once more around them.