Diexin stands in the open corridor, hands resting lightly on the carved railing, eyes fixed on the garden below.

Moonlight washes over trimmed hedges and stone paths, the crescent moon hanging low among scattered stars.

Two days have passed.

No news.

No message.

No carriage returning with Merin’s familiar presence.

With every hour, the silence grows heavier.

Her fingers curl slowly against the railing.

“Nothing can happen to Merin,” she whispers to herself.

It is not hope.

It is insistence.

Her entire plan hinges on him.

On his power.

In his position.

On his survival.

He cannot die now.

Not yet.

“He should die only after the marriage,” she murmurs coldly, the thought slipping out unguarded.

“And even better… if I am already pregnant with his child.”

Then everything would be secure.

The Duan Family would be hers to wield.

Even if Merin were gone afterwards, his shadow would protect her.

But not now.

Now, he must live.

She closes her eyes and lifts her face slightly, as if the stars might listen.

For the first time in years, she prays.

Not to gods.

Not to fate.

But to the cold, distant lights above.

Footsteps approach behind her.

Measured.

Heavy.

She turns.

Housekeeper Chen walks toward her, his expression strained, the lines on his face deeper than usual.

Her heart tightens.

“Housekeeper Chen,” she calls, unable to keep the urgency from her voice.

“Is there any news of Merin?”

He stops in front of her and bows slightly.

“Lady Wenji,” he says, choosing his words carefully,

“Lord Merin and his team are trapped inside a formation.”

Her eyes widen.

“A formation?”

“The imperial court is attempting to break it,” Housekeeper Chen continues.

“But it is… difficult.”

Diexin feels a chill crawl up her spine.

“Then,” she asks quietly,

“What should we do?”

Housekeeper Chen looks past her for a moment, toward the dark garden, then back at her.

“We must prepare for the worst,” he says bluntly.

“Without Lord Merin, our enemies will not hesitate.”

“They will tear us apart.”

He bows again, then turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Diexin remains where she is.

The words linger.

Prepare for the worst.

She exhales slowly.

Perhaps she should.

She has survived worse.

If Merin dies, it will not end her.

It will simply… change the plan.

She turns to go back inside.

Then she stops.

The sky to the east glows faintly orange.

Not dawn.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Fire.

Her expression tightens.

The glow intensifies, licking upward toward the heavens in the direction of the Divine Guard building.

Something is happening.

Her first thought is Commander Di.

Someone is moving against the Divine Guard.

But whatever is happening there… it has nothing to do with her directly.

She cannot act on it.

Tomorrow, she must heal the Seventh Prince.

That opportunity cannot be delayed.

Even if Merin dies tonight, she will still move forward.

Another plan.

Another path.

Revenge does not wait for grief.

She turns away from the railing and walks back into the estate.

—

Deep within the mountains, Merin and the others climb over the final ridge.

The air grows heavier with every step.

At the peak, they stop.

Before them stands a clearing of stone.

Nine spider statues rise from the ground, arranged in a precise formation, each carved with disturbing realism—jointed legs, bloated abdomens, human-like torsos twisted in eternal agony.

Above them, the sky itself is broken.

A hole tears through the air, ragged and unstable, spewing black mist like smoke from a wound in the world.

The hole trembles.

Something moves within.

Long, jointed spider legs push outward, probing, scraping against the edge of the tear as if testing the limits of this world.

The space around it distorts.

Merin’s eyes narrow.

The aura spilling out is immense.

Near-Saint Realm.

If that thing fully emerges…

This life will be wasted.

“This spider cannot come out,” Merin says quietly to himself.

“Or this reincarnation ends here.”

He turns to Commander Di, Elder Lin, and Lin Qiansu.

“Destroy the statues,” he says firmly.

“They are the anchors.”

“Break them, and the array collapses.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Merin charges forward.

His sword hums as Blood Qi surges through his arms.

He swings.

A crescent of sword-light tears through the air, aimed directly at the nearest statue.

The moment it is about to strike—

The statue moves.

Stone cracks.

Its eyes flare with dark light.

A massive stone shield forms in front of it, rising from the ground like a wall.

The sword-light slams into the shield and explodes, fragments of Qi scattering across the clearing.

The statue remains intact.

The other eight statues awaken.

Stone grinds against stone as they shift, legs unfolding, bodies rotating slightly toward Merin.

The ground vibrates.

Above them, the hole in the sky widens by a fraction.

The spider’s legs push harder.

Cracks spread along the edge of the tear.

Merin tightens his grip on his sword.

“So they fight back,” he says calmly.

Behind him, Commander Di draws his blade.

Elder Lin plants her staff into the ground, golden light flickering weakly around it.

Lin Qiansu clenches her fists, face pale but resolute.

The statues begin to move.

And the final battle begins.

Merin moves first.

The instant the stone spiders shift, he explodes forward, body blurring as he crosses the distance in a breath.

He lands atop one of the statues, boots striking stone with a sharp crack.

The spider reacts instantly.

Its stone arm reshapes, forming a long blade of compressed rock that swings upward toward his torso.

Merin twists in midair, the edge missing him by a hair’s breadth.

His sword hums.

Silver light floods the blade.

He cuts once.

The stone sword shatters.

He cuts again.

The spider’s torso splits cleanly in two, fissures racing through its body before it collapses into rubble.

One statue down.

The ground trembles.

The central statue—larger than the rest, thicker, its form closer to something living—moves.

Its stone swords cross, then separate.

Sword-light erupts from them, dense and heavy, tearing through the air toward Merin.

Merin plants his feet and blocks.

The impact drives him back, boots carving furrows into the stone ground.

He exhales slowly.

Then he charges.

The large spider charges as well.

Steel and stone collide.

Clink.

Crack.

Clang.

Their weapons strike again and again, sparks flying with every impact.

Merin’s movements are fluid, precise, every step and swing guided by understanding rather than brute force.

The spider’s strength is overwhelming.

Outer Refining Realm.

A realm above his own.

Each strike carries pressure that could crush ordinary cultivators outright.

Merin’s arms tremble slightly as he redirects the force rather than meeting it head-on.

Behind him, the others engage.

Commander Di roars as he clashes with two statues at once, light-gold Blood Qi flaring as he hammers their limbs apart.

Elder Lin moves with grim determination, staff glowing as she smashes joints and cracks stone bodies.

Lin Qiansu supports them, her golden flames weaker than before but still deadly, burning through runes and slowing the statues’ movements.

Merin cannot spare them a glance.

The crack in the sky widens.

Black mist pours out more violently now, the edges of the tear stretching and distorting.

The spider legs inside push harder.

Time is slipping away.

Merin presses the attack.

He shifts his stance, changing rhythm, forcing the large spider to respond.

Every counter teaches him something.

Every clash reveals a fraction more.

The spider fights with power, not insight.

Its movements are patterned.

Predictable.

Merin’s eyes sharpen.

He begins to guide the battle.

He steps just out of range, draws the spider forward, then cuts at an angle that forces it to overextend.

Stone chips fly.

Cracks appear along the statue’s arms.

Merin’s advantage grows.

The longer the battle lasts, the more certain the outcome becomes.

The spider cannot adapt.

Merin can.

Still, the crack widens.

A deafening creak echoes from the sky.

Merin grits his teeth.

No more time.

His Blood Qi surges.

The light around his body deepens, shifting from faint gold to a brighter, denser glow.

His strength spikes.

The ground beneath him fractures under the pressure.

He forces the spider back, blade striking faster, heavier, each blow carving deeper fissures into its stone form.

The spider screeches, an unnatural grinding sound that vibrates through the clearing.

Merin steps back.

He inhales.

Then exhales.

All his Qi gathers.

Every refinement.

Every layer.

Every ounce of strength he can draw without shattering himself.

The sword in his hand becomes weightless.

Hundreds of sword-lights bloom around him, hovering in the air like a storm of silver-gold stars.

They vibrate in unison, responding to his will.

Merin points his blade forward.

“Go.”

The sword-lights scream forward.

They pierce the large spider from every angle, punching through stone, runes, and core alike.

The statue freezes.

Cracks race across its body.

The sword-lights do not stop.

They redirect instantly, slamming into the remaining statues, tearing them apart piece by piece.

Stone disintegrates.

Dust fills the air.

In seconds, nothing remains but rubble.

Merin drops to one knee.

The sword-lights vanish.

His breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling as pain floods back into his limbs.

Above them, the crack in the sky begins to shrink.

A furious roar echoes from beyond the tear, filled with rage and frustration.

Then the hole snaps shut.

The black mist dissipates like smoke in the wind.

Silence follows.

The first rays of the rising sun break through the thinning clouds, light spilling across the shattered peak.

Merin slumps forward, supporting himself with his sword.

Behind him, Commander Di, Elder Lin, and Lin Qiansu collapse onto the ground, exhaustion finally claiming them.

They lie there, breathing, alive.

Relief washes through them all.

Minutes later, movement stirs along the mountain paths.

Reinforcements arrive.

Divine Guard units.

Golden Lotus Sect elders.

Healers rush forward, stabilising wounds, distributing pills, and lifting the injured.

Merin is helped to his feet and guided away.

Soon, he finds himself inside his family carriage, Duan guards surrounding it in tight formation.

As the carriage begins to move, he hears Commander Di’s voice shouting from outside.

“Merin!”

“Take a few days of rest.”

“You can return after your marriage.”

Merin looks out through the window.

“Commander Di,” he says quietly,

“Take care.”

The carriages part ways.

Merin heads toward his estate.

Commander Di’s toward the Royal Palace.

Behind them, the mountains fall silent.

And the sun rises on a world that nearly ended.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep