【Merit Wallet】 Current Balance: ? 0.0018

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  "…?0.0018?"

  Dax nodded, wearing an "I knew it" expression.

  "See? All that work you just did—exorcism, gifting a celestial meridian—"

  "And you got this tiny speck for it. There is more blessing in a stray dog's leftover bone than there is in you."

  Ling frowned.

  "Why? I clearly helped that kid. Even if no one knows it was me—at least the result was good, right? Doesn't that count as a contribution?"

  Dax shot her a sideways glance, a meaningful smile tugging at his lips.

  "First—"

  He held up one finger.

  "Do you know if he and his family were actually helped by you?"

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  "Do you know if he'll wake up traumatized by this experience? If he'll become afraid of the dark, terrified of being alone? Do you know how long his parents were agonizing in that hospital corridor, and whether that fear will turn into overprotection later—eventually bearing other bitter fruit?"

  Ling opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  "Second—"

  Second finger.

  "Even if their family really did end up happy together, who do you think they'll be grateful to?"

  He answered his own question: "Some vague and distant 'Heavens above.' Buddha. Bodhisattva. 'Thank the ancestors.'"

  "They don't even know you exist. And even if they did—"

  Dax paused.

  "That gratitude still wouldn't reach you."

  Ling protested: "How is that fair? Is everyone in the Court blind?!"

  Dax didn't answer directly. He was rubbing the engravings on the pocket watch in his jacket out of habit, like someone fidgeting with worry beads.

  "What do you think merit is? That we bureaucrats carry around little notebooks, tallying how many old ladies you helped cross the street today?"

  He scoffed.

  "The Auditing Department can't even balance their own books—you think they have time to track you lot? Merit is…"

  He paused, as if choosing his words carefully.

  "Put simply, it's the echo you get when you call out to the Dao. However loud you shout, that's how much the Dao records. No more, no less."

  "Nobody grades your deeds on 'how many points it's worth.' The Dao only hears the sound. If it hears it, it records it. If it doesn't, there's nothing."

  He looked into Ling's eyes:

  "That echo sits there, and it becomes your voucher when you need to borrow power from the Dao later."

  "In plain terms—you can only withdraw as much as you deposit. No interest, no overdrafts. Fair as it gets."

  Ling looked thoughtful.

  "So… the problem is with the 'calling out'? The Dao didn't hear my voice?"

  "Correct." Dax tapped the pen on the desk. "When you were exorcising that thing today, what were you thinking?"

  Ling honestly searched her memory.

  That hungry ghost looked pretty high-quality…

  Swallowing it should give me a nice boost…

  Might as well, nothing to lose…

  "…"

  She decided not to answer that question.

  Dax could tell from her expression.

  "Those thoughts of yours—" He shook his head. "All that clanging and banging, like a cracked gong. Sure, it makes plenty of noise, but that racket? Can't travel more than a mile before it fizzles out. By the time it reaches the Dao's ears, there's not even a fart's worth of sound left."

  His gaze grew distant. "It only hears what's clear and resonant. That kind of voice—that's what echoes through valleys. That's merit. And if the people you helped call out alongside you, the echo grows louder, and the merit becomes more complete."

  Golden light is a mirror—it reflects bone, not skin.

  Merit is a scale—it weighs the heart, not the name.

  Ling was silent for a moment. Then she tried another angle.

  "What if—I genuinely wanted to save him? Gave my money and effort, but they didn't know. Nobody knew."

  "If the merit isn't complete, wouldn't I still be getting screwed?"

  Dax chuckled softly.

  "That depends on whether you feel screwed."

  "…What do you mean?"

  "You did something. Nobody knows, nobody thanks you, nobody repays you." Dax spread his hands. "If in your heart you feel 'cheated'—then you are cheated. That frustration, that resentment, that 'I gave so much, why doesn't anyone see me' grievance—all of it cracks whatever genuine intention you just had."

  "But what if you don't feel cheated? You did it, and that's that. You don't need to be seen. Don't need to be thanked. Don't need any response at all. Then that voice stays clear and true. The valley will naturally carry it back."

  Ling blinked slowly. "What if I try really hard to be compassionate? Deep down I feel cheated, but I convince myself to be magnanimous, to be selfless—"

  Dax nearly choked on his own spit. "You think the Dao is deaf?" He rapped her on the head irritably. "Forced compassion—it's wrapped in contradiction, wrapped in reluctance, wrapped in the static of 'I'm trying so hard to convince myself.' You think you're letting out a clear cry, but it's actually a hoarse cough. Same thing—it won't carry."

  He continued with a wry smile. "That fraction of Merit you got—I'm guessing it's from that sliver of a moment when you gave Wynn the meridian. Probably that split second when you handed it over, your mind went genuinely blank for a fraction of a heartbeat."

  He pinched his thumb and pinky together, holding them up close to Ling's face. "Just this much."

  Ling: "…"

  0.0018.

  That was a celestial meridian! A CELESTIAL MERIDIAN! And it only 'sold' for that tiny bit?

  What kind of scam is this?!

  She narrowed her eyes, her tone edged with mockery.

  "So what you're saying is—this whole system is basically a dead end for someone like me?"

  "I'm a hungry ghost who crawled out of the very bottom of the Abyss. My instincts are to devour, to take, to never lose out. You want me to be selfless? Compassionate? I don't even know what those things are! This whole setup is basically… precision-targeted suppression against things like me."·

  Dax didn't deny it.

  "The Dao doesn't target anyone."

  "It just… can't hear certain voices."

  Ling fell silent.

  So in this cosmic game of chess, I've always been a black piece nailed down in a lightless corner?

  After a long moment—she suddenly laughed.

  "Jiang Dax. You're not being honest with me."

  Dax startled.

  Ling slowly sat up, fixing her eyes on his.

  "Don't think you can fool me just because I'm new here. All that talk about compassion, selflessness, clear and resonant voices—sure, I get the principle."

  "But there's one question."

  She tilted her head, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

  "All you immortals up there, doing whatever it is you do every day—you telling me you don't have a f—clue what that really looks like?"

  "I spent a long time down in the Abyss, but I'm not blind. All those big shots up above, glowing gold and radiant—did they really earn that merit-light from sitting on meditation cushions?"

  "Look me in the eye and tell me—they've got all that merit piled on them purely because their cultivation is solid? Their enlightenment is high? They care about all living beings?"

  Dax's expression froze.

  "Well…"

  He cleared his throat.

  "The thing is…"

  Even someone as thick-skinned as him couldn't find a response.

  Seeing this, Ling's grin grew wider.

  "I knew it."

  She stood up and began circling around Dax.

  "Since those scumbags shaking us down can all be draped in golden light—there's got to be another way."

  "Didn't you say that Merit is your voucher when borrowing power from the Dao?"

  "Hehe." She stopped, licking the corner of her lips. "Something that good… how could I, Ling, not get my share?"

  Come to think of it—that bite I took from Dax earlier, could that have been this so-called power of merit?

  She savored the memory of that sensation. The energy had melted the moment it touched her tongue, sweet as honey, completely different from the rank, sticky dregs in the Abyss. Just that tiny bit had been enough to stabilize her soul when it was on the verge of scattering.

  If I had enough of this stuff… Ling's eyes began to gleam. Could I finally break free from this hunk of scrap? Walk right up to Soran, bold as brass, and have a proper "chat"?

  A beautiful vision bloomed in her mind—

  That fox immortal, always so elegant and untouchable in front of others, cornered against a wall by her. Face white as a sheet, trembling all over, begging for mercy on hands and knees.

  "Spare me, my lady—"

  "Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you everything, I swear—"

  Hehehehe.

  Ling's mouth split into a grin like a fox who'd just raided the henhouse.

  Satisfying. So satisfying. Just imagining it is satisfying.

  Watching her like this, Dax felt his heart sink.

  "You—don't you dare do anything rash! Seeing as you helped Wynn, I'll figure out the deposit somehow. But—"

  He lowered his voice, his tone turning grave.

  "The Court runs deep. Don't go diving in without knowing how to swim. I guarantee you—whatever damn scheme you're cooking up is already in the "Celestial Criminal Code"!"

  Ling raised an eyebrow.

  "Deep waters?"

  Her voice came out languid, serpentine, though her face wore an expression of innocent sweetness.

  "Don't you know—the deeper the pond, the fatter the fish? Take that 'no pain, no gain' nonsense and go preach it to the donkeys at your grindstone."

  "My rule has always been: Your pain, my gain."

  Dax looked at her eager expression and suddenly felt a wave of profound exhaustion wash over him.

  "Once a hungry ghost, always a hungry ghost," he sighed. "A dog just can't stop itself from eating shit."

  Ling didn't mind in the slightest.

  "Why, thank you."

  The 2026th Technical Exchange Summit of the Vessel Forging Sect. Live on stage.

  "…And now, please welcome our great Sect Master—the Supreme Armament Sovereign of the Three Realms, and Grand Architect of Divine Artifacts. Officially bestowed by the Upper Realm as the 'True Lord of Celestial Artifice' who single-handedly reconstructed three hundred and sixty-five reincarnation nodes, repaired the underlying code of one hundred and eight thousand illusory realms, and reverse-engineered the encryption algorithms of ancient seals—the once-in-an-era genius, Master Wei, to deliver our opening address!"

  Applause exploded like ten thousand cicadas crying out together on a midsummer afternoon. Master Wei emerged from the wings, his pace unhurried, each step seemingly measured to land precisely within the brightest circle of the spotlight.

  His figure was tall and slender, dressed in a moon-white Daoist robe. The cloud patterns embroidered along the hem flickered in and out of visibility under the stage lights.

  He came to a stop at center stage and inclined his head slightly.

  "Thank you, esteemed colleagues."

  The audience gradually quieted, leaving only a few scattered coughs.

  "First, allow me to share a exhilarating news that just reached us."

  "Two thousand years ago, right here—" He raised a hand and pointed at the stage beneath his feet, his fingers long and elegant, nails immaculately trimmed. "On the very site of this forum, our founding council of elders created a miracle."

  His voice began to rise and fall, like a river meeting rocks, stirring up fine sprays of foam:

  "Today, I stand before you not to reminisce, but to declare: that miracle still lives! After enduring such terrible, tragic, lamentable tribulations, it remains to this day in near-perfect condition!"

  The audience drew in a collective breath, then erupted into thunderous applause. But the Master raised his hand, pressing down gently, and the applause cut off abruptly.

  "Back then, if not for the so-called 'Orthodox' Myriad Immortals Union (MIU) butting in, forcibly shoving in some 'dual-system integration,' claiming they wanted to 'balance tradition with innovation,' to 'ensure a stable transition'—" His voice suddenly sharpened, laced with teeth-grinding hatred. "This world would have already ripened into perfect fruit in the palm of our Sect."

  "So today, I speak not of reconciliation, not of compatibility. What I'm announcing is a reclamation—complete and total conquest of the MIU system. Taking back the glory that was always ours!"

  His gaze swept across the front rows—the reddened eyes and trembling fingertips of young runesmiths—and his tone suddenly blazed:

  "In three months, this Sect will hold a technical competition. There is only one challenge: bring the true body of the Celestial Maiden back into the light. This project is designated our Sect's highest priority."

  "The rewards will be unprecedented—enough to elevate an unknown apprentice onto the spine of history overnight! All those with ambition, all those who refuse to settle for mediocrity, are welcome to register for the selection trials!"

  With that, he said no more. He inclined his head slightly and turned to leave.

  Behind him, applause erupted once more like ten thousand instruments sounding at once. Young runesmiths rubbed their hands together in excitement. Some clenched their jaws. Some muttered oaths under their breath. Some stared at their own palms, as if the glory of the future had already begun to shimmer there…