The journey was peaceful. For the first time since his arrival, Ren Wei wasn't running from
something. He was walking toward something.
They moved through mortal lands, small villages where their "average" cultivation made them
masters, but they never showed it. They were just a young couple, traveling.
Li Mei, free from the constant, paranoid pressure of the sect, was a different person. She was
light. She was curious. She marveled at a mortal weaver's loom, at the taste of a meat-bun
bought from a street vendor. She was seeing the world not as a threat, but as a place. And she
never let go of his hand.
They traveled for two months, looking for the 'sweet spot' Ren Wei had hypothesized: a place
with just enough spiritual energy to cultivate, but not enough to attract a sect or a powerful
magical beast.
They found it.
It was a small, hidden valley in the crook of the 'Sleeping Dragon' mountain range. It was
shielded on all sides by sheer cliffs, the entrance a narrow, overgrown waterway. Inside was a
perfect, untouched world. A small, clear lake, a waterfall, and fertile, black soil. The Qi was thin,
yes—they would never become gods here—but it was pure.
"This... this is it," Ren Wei whispered, breathing in the clean air.
Li Mei just squeezed his hand, her eyes wide with a quiet, profound joy. This was theirs.
They were not cultivators, now. They were homesteaders.
Ren Wei, the "Head," became the architect. He used his analytical mind to map the valley and
design a simple, sturdy wooden cabin on a small rise, safe from floods, facing the morning sun.
Li Mei, the "Hands," became the builder. Her 'Silken Heart' art was now a tool. She used her
'Silken Threads' to lift logs he couldn't and her precise Qi-control to carve perfect, airtight joints.
She used her 'Toxin Compendium' knowledge... to plant a garden.
Her "yandere" nature, that deep, obsessive, possessive core, had finally found a constructive,
peaceful outlet. She was obsessed with their home.
She set up 'Silken-Thread' wards—not to kill, but to alert. Tiny, invisible tripwires that would hum
in her mind if a beast or person entered their valley. She obsessively tended her herb garden,
cultivating not poisons, but medicines, spices, and food. Her entire world shrank to this valley.
And him. It was her paradise.
Ren Wei wasn't managing her; he was partnering with her. He helped her set the wards. He
used his "psychology" to analyze the best crop rotations. His mind was no longer a weapon of
war; it was a tool for living.
Their intimacy changed. It wasn't the desperate, bloody kiss of the cistern or the feverish,
co-dependent clinging of the sect. It was quiet. Easy.
It was them reading their manuals side-by-side in front of the fireplace he had built. It was her
leaning her head on his shoulder as they ate a stew made from vegetables she had grown. It
was them sleeping in the one large bed they had built together, his arm around her waist, the
psychic bond between them a soft, warm, contented hum.
One evening, after a year had passed, they sat on their newly-built porch, watching the sunset
over their lake. They were fourth-stage cultivators now. Their progress was slow, but it was
steady. And it was theirs.
"It's... quiet," Li Mei whispered, her voice full of a peace he had never heard before.
"It's home," Ren Wei replied, squeezing her hand.
They were free.