Merin follows the distortion.
By the time he reaches its source, the sun has already set.
Qinyun Street has awakened.
Crowds flood in from every direction, voices overlapping, laughter rising, lanterns igniting one by one until the street glows like a river of light.
Shadow puppets dance against white screens.
Fire performers twist flames into beasts and flowers.
Illusionists pull birds from smoke and turn wine into sparks.
Merin moves through the crowd without hurry.
The distortion leads him to a wine hall.
He steps inside.
The scent of alcohol crashes into him at once, thick and suffocating, layered with sweet smoke.
The air is hazy.
Men and women sit shoulder to shoulder, wine cups clinking, laughter loose and careless.
Between drinks, long pipes are passed around.
Hokkah smoke coils upward in slow, lazy spirals.
Merin's gaze sharpens.
He lets a thread of Dao slip through his eyes.
The world peels open.
Colors dull.
Structures reveal themselves.
He sees it.
From one man's mind realm, a red vine extends outward, thin but alive, pulsing faintly as it drinks.
Not attached to the hall.
Not bound to the room.
But anchored through what the man inhales.
Merin withdraws his Dao at once.
He turns and signals an attendant.
"What powder is used for the hokkah?" he asks calmly.
The attendant hesitates, then produces a small packet.
Merin weighs it in his palm.
"I'll take three."
He pays without bargaining.
The attendant hands over two more packets.
Merin pockets them and leaves.
Outside, Qinyun Street surges around him, louder now, brighter, more reckless.
He reaches the carriage and speaks through the window.
"To the medical centre."
"Yes, Lord," the driver answers.
Merin climbs inside.
The carriage pulls away, lantern light sliding across its walls.
Minutes pass.
The wheels slow.
They stop.
Merin steps down.
Ahead of him stands the medical centre, its gates open, lamps burning steadily against the night.
He walks forward.
Inside, he approaches the counter and places two small bags of powder down with a soft thud.
"Examine these," he says.
Before any questions can form, he turns and leaves.
Outside, he speaks to the driver.
"To the Pearl House."
The carriage moves.
—
When they arrive, Merin steps down and looks back at the driver.
"You can withdraw and go home to sleep."
"Yes, Lord."
Merin enters the Pearl House alone.
The lobby hums softly with late-night voices and drifting incense.
He turns toward the dining hall, finds an empty table, and sits.
An attendant brings his regular meal without asking.
He eats quietly.
Efficiently.
When he finishes, he rises and heads for the stairs.
An attendant follows behind him.
Merin does not climb to the third floor, where his private room awaits.
He stops on the first floor.
He turns down the corridor.
Toward Yu Diexin's room.
She seduced him.
Now she bears the consequence.
He pauses beside the attendant.
"Find out if Zhao Wenjie is present," Merin says calmly.
"If he is, bring him here."
The attendant nods and leaves at once.
Merin knocks.
Moments later, the door opens.
Diexin's eyes widen.
"Merin," she whispers.
She straightens almost instantly.
"Lord Duan," she says formally, "what are you doing here?"
"I've come to sleep," Merin replies.
She freezes.
"…What?"
Merin steps forward and pushes past her without waiting for permission.
He enters the room and heads straight for the bathing chamber.
The door closes.
Minutes pass.
When he emerges, dressed loosely, he finds Diexin sitting rigidly on the bed.
Zhao Wenjie sits in a chair near the door.
Seeing Merin, Zhao Wenjie stands at once.
"Lieutenant."
Merin sits down on the chair beside the bed.
"How was guarding Shen Ling?" he asks.
At the name, Diexin's posture shifts.
She masks it quickly, feigning indifference.
Merin notices.
Zhao Wenjie glances at Diexin.
Merin tilts his head slightly.
"Is there something secret?"
Zhao Wenjie shakes his head.
"No secrets," he says.
"Shen Ling met with the heads of the Cao and Lin families."
He pauses.
"He also visited your estate."
Merin lowers his gaze a fraction.
"My estate?"
Zhao Wenjie nods.
Merin leans back.
"You can leave."
Zhao Wenjie bows and exits.
The door closes.
Silence stretches.
Merin speaks.
"I don't know why you hate Shen Ling," he says evenly,
"But learn to hide your killing intent."
He stands and begins to undress.
Diexin rises from the bed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she says.
"I don't hate Shen Ling."
Merin scoffs.
She steps closer.
"Are you really going to sleep here?"
Merin looks at her.
"You are my fiancée," he says calmly.
"If not with you, then with whom should I sleep?"
Diexin freezes for a heartbeat.
"I… I'll go change," she says.
She picks up a folded sleeping dress and slips into the bathing room.
Merin removes his outer clothes, leaves only his inner wear, and lies down beneath the covers.
He waits.
Inside the bathing room, Diexin ties her hair loosely and stares at her reflection.
She had known this would happen.
After what she did, sharing a bed was inevitable.
If she wanted a child, if she wanted leverage, this path was unavoidable.
Yet not like this.
Not before a full day had even passed.
She exhales slowly, steadies herself, and opens the door.
She returns to the room.
Night passes in silence.
Later, Merin sits cross-legged on the floor.
His consciousness sinks inward.
He touches the rhythm of his internal organs, drawing upon their latent power.
Fire, metal, wood, earth, water.
He does not force them.
He listens.
He searches for the common ground that binds them.
Balance.
Circulation.
Harmony.
By morning, pale light filters through the curtains.
Diexin stirs.
Merin is already dressed.
"Ask Yueqing to take you to the estate," he says.
Her voice is still heavy with sleep.
"Why?"
"I don't want to come here to sleep anymore," Merin replies.
"Oh," she murmurs.
As he finishes adjusting his uniform, he pauses.
"Did you write down the process for refining the Dream Gu?"
"Yes," Diexin says.
"It's in the first drawer."
Merin opens it, takes out the paper, and scans it once.
The content etches itself into his mind.
Still, he folds it and keeps it.
—
At the Divine Guard office, his three captains arrive to report.
Their investigation yields nothing about the white powder.
Merin does not comment.
He assigns them other serious cases and orders the sleeping case to remain under continuous investigation.
Later, Ye Wen arrives.
Merin informs him about the white powder from Qinyun Street.
"Find its source," Merin orders.
Ye Wen bows and leaves.
Before nightfall, the medical examiners send him a list of ingredients used to refine the powder.
Merin returns to his estate.
Inside the refining room, he recreates the powder step by step.
He compares the finished product to the packets he obtained.
They match in structure.
In effect.
Yet something is missing.
He probes deeper with his spirit.
Understanding settles.
The powder does not help the Dream Demon locate its targets.
The demon's power within it serves another purpose.
Concealment.
Stabilization.
It hides the aura of the demon's influence and anchors the connection once contact is made.
Merin leaves the refining room with the powder in hand.
As he walks toward the main house, a carriage rolls into the courtyard.
The door opens.
Yu Diexin steps down.
Beside her stands Yueqing.
Merin walks toward them.
Seeing him, Yueqing straightens as if caught stealing.
"Cousin."
"Yueqing," Merin says calmly, "help your sister-in-law settle into my room."
Yueqing blinks, then nods quickly.
"Yes, cousin."
Merin turns to Diexin.
"If you need anything, tell Yueqing or Uncle Chen."
She nods once.
Merin enters his carriage as the noon sun begins its slow descent.
—
At the office, he goes straight to Commander Di.
He lays out the truth of the demon powder, its concealment function, and the Dream Demon's method of anchoring itself.
Commander Di listens in silence.
Minutes later, Merin leaves.
The case is solved.
What remains is only to pull the thread and uncover the hand behind it.
—
Night falls.
Merin returns home.
After sleeping beside Diexin, he rises before dawn.
He sits alone.
Still.
His breath slows.
His awareness turns inward.
The heart pulses first.
Fire within it is no longer fierce or consuming, but rhythmic, a drum that sets the pace for all motion.
He follows that rhythm downward.
The lungs expand and contract.
Metal within them sharpens perception, not to cut, but to refine, to separate what is essential from what is noise.
Each breath polishes intent.
The liver stirs.
Wood coils there, flexible and alive, adjusting without resistance, storing momentum rather than force.
Growth without haste.
Change without loss.
The spleen anchors him.
Earth does not move, yet it supports all movement.
It accepts, transforms, and distributes, turning chaos into nourishment.
Stability becomes a quiet strength.
Deepest of all, the kidneys flow.
Water holds memory.
Water adapts.
It does not confront, yet nothing withstands it.
In its depth, Merin senses continuity, the thread that binds past, present, and future.
He does not command the organs.
He listens.
He aligns.
Fire feeds earth.
Earth bears metal.
Metal enriches water.
Water nourishes wood.
Wood fuels fire.
The cycle turns within him, not as doctrine, but as lived truth.
Blood Qi smooths.
Breath deepens.
The boundary between organ and meridian blurs.
They are no longer separate systems.
They are in one circulation.
One balance.
One body.
Merin opens his eyes as the first light of morning enters the room.
His cultivation advances, not in leaps of power, but in depth.
And depth, he knows, is what endures.