Chapter 12: The True Form
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As Wen Ci uttered these words, everyone’s eyes fixated on the white paper hanging around Xie Yuzhu’s neck. Glancing at Fuguang Sect’s disciples’ expressions, a brief, tense silence enveloped the various parties.
Wen Ci gave no time for reaction. In an instant, all the white papers swiftly gathered around the three figures on the stage, spinning before dispersing like fireworks. In the blink of an eye, the stage was empty—both the white papers and the people vanished without a trace.
Uncle Zhuang’s face turned pale as he pushed through the crowd to the stage, sighing dejectedly, “Oh heavens!” His voice was drowned out by the rising clamour of discussions. The entire Moonlight Pavilion was shrouded in astonishment and doubt.
At that moment, a sharp cry pierced the air. A gray-white hawk flew in through a broken window and dropped a bamboo message tube into the hands of a Fuguang Sect disciple.
The disciple unsealed the tube and quickly scanned the letter, exclaiming, “Master Uncle’s recent divination reveals that Ye Minwei has descended from the mountain.”
Fuguang Sect highly regarded Daoist masters as the most skilled seers within the Immortal Gate, conducting major divinations every spring, summer, autumn, and winter—foretelling the fate of the world. In the eighty divinations over the past twenty years, the signs always indicated Ye Minwei remained on Mount Kunwu, never leaving.
This eighty-first divination, marking a full cycle, showed her descending at this very moment. What is her purpose? Where is she now?
Change brings fortune or disaster. The Immortal Gate was abuzz with speculation, as if dark clouds were gathering, the future uncertain.
Amidst the chaos stood Yun Chuan, the instigator of all this turmoil, now alone on an empty street. Looking up at the heavy, descending bright moon between the eaves, she realized this long night was finally drawing to a close.
Time passed differently in dreams compared to reality. She and Xie Yuzhu had endured countless dreams and immeasurable hours, yet it was barely two hours of this night.
Yun Chuan patted her chest; the suffocating nausea faded as the crowded scene vanished from her sight. She finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Before her, bathed in moonlight, stood only the beauty in colorful robes.
The beauty faced away from Yun Chuan, silent, her left hand grasping her right wrist behind her back, the right hand clenched tightly, as if struggling to endure something.
“What’s going on? Where is this?” came Xie Yuzhu’s voice beside her. She spun around in confusion, evidently frightened by the relentless nightmares of the night.
Wen Ci turned under the moonlight, a hint of mockery in his voice: “This is Liangshan in Ningzhou, thirty li from Fujian. They won’t chase us here for now. You’re so timid—how could you dare to play this act with her?”
After a brief silence, Xie Yuzhu turned to Yun Chuan, distraught: “I told you your acting’s too fake—they can see right through you! I don’t know how anyone could believe it!”
“I’ve killed people before, I’m a spirit bandit,” Yun Chuan reminded her.
Xie Yuzhu sighed: “True, that experience compensates for your lack of acting skill.”
Seeing the two chatting as if no one else existed, Wen Ci’s anger surged. He turned sharply and interrogated, enunciating each word: “Whose idea was it to enter the dream?”
“I intended to cast a spell on the bronze mirror to see the dream, but the spell went wrong, and we were drawn into a nightmare,” Yun Chuan confessed truthfully.
Wen Ci laughed bitterly with fury: “Casting spells? Going wrong? Had you erred a little more, you’d have lost yourself in the sea of mortal consciousness and never returned! Who do you think you are? Do you think you’re still the same as before? And you!”
The beauty suddenly turned to Xie Yuzhu, startling her. Wen Ci raised a slender finger adorned with a bell chain, pointing and scolding: “Her blind confidence is one thing, but how could you believe her? Nightmare magic is incredibly complex. She dares to meddle with it, and you let her? Are you tired of living, looking for death?”
Xie Yuzhu stared wide-eyed, utterly incredulous. How could she be blamed for this?
Yet, with her long-standing passion for gossip on Immortal Gate affairs, Xie Yuzhu keenly sensed something. Curiosity overcame grievance; she twirled a finger between Yun Chuan and Wen Ci: “You two knew each other before?”
“Familiar.”
“Not acquainted.”
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Both turned simultaneously to look at Xie Yuzhu, offering completely opposite answers. Her eyes lit up instantly—there was definitely something between them, fresh gossip to hear.
Hearing Wen Ci’s reply, Yun Chuan looked back at him, puzzled: “You clearly know me, so why say you don’t?”
Wen Ci narrowed his eyes: “I don’t know you. Stop imagining things.”
“Is it because you want to hide your identity?”
Wen Ci’s gaze stiffened. He took a step back as if to leave, but before his second step, Yun Chuan continued: “You don’t want others to know you are the Dream Ruins master?”
His steps froze. Silence fell. The bright moon hung high; a gentle breeze swept through the streets, jingling the jade pendants by the beauty’s ear. Her vermilion eye markings shone vividly, like a demon cloaked in an exquisitely painted skin under the moonlight.
“Did you forget?” Wen Ci asked softly.
“I guessed,” Yun Chuan replied calmly.
Few knew her from the rumors, and even fewer nightmare masters recognized her. Besides the Dream Ruins master, who else could he be?
They sat in silent opposition as if time stopped, until Xie Yuzhu broke the quiet. She jumped beside them, puzzled: “What are you talking about? Dream Ruins master, Master Wu? Isn’t this Wen Meiren… no, Miss Su Zhaoqing… then who exactly is she?”
Ignoring Xie Yuzhu, Wen Ci fixed his gaze on Yun Chuan, his voice turning clear and masculine again.
“You’re still annoyingly clever.”
Then, enunciating deliberately, he said: “Ye. Min. Wei.”
“What’s with your voice? You’re a man! Cross-dressing… wait… what? Ye Minwei!?” Xie Yuzhu, slow to catch on, was startled and screamed, spooking a few birds.
On the moonlit stone path, Yun Chuan’s silver hair was disheveled, looking worn out. Yet after seeing the blue glow on the stone, her eyes remained calm and focused.
Xie Yuzhu’s heart pounded like a drum. Everything was absurd yet strangely reasonable. She whispered, “Really? Sister Yun Chuan, are you… Ye Minwei?”
Yun Chuan nodded.
Covering her mouth, Xie Yuzhu stared wide-eyed at these two—legendary Dream Ruins master Master Wu, and the sect leader of Wànxiàng, Ye Minwei.
Rumors layered over her mind like masks, turning familiar faces suddenly strange. The characters from stories had stepped out of worn books and stood before her.
She sensed something between them but never imagined it was so significant!
Amid the chaos in her mind, Xie Yuzhu pointed at Wen Ci and looked at Yun Chuan incredulously: “No, didn’t the Dream Ruins master die long ago? Killed by you, and then those nightmare masters tried to avenge and kill you? You two severed ties, fought on Mount Kunwu three hundred rounds, like thunder and lightning darkening the sky…”
Wen Ci turned to look at Xie Yuzhu, smiling with a forced grin: “Look forward to us doing it again?”
She quickly waved her hands, denying it, then her voice softened as she gestured with thumb and forefinger close together: “Just… a little.”
Though the situation was eerie, complex, and dangerous, tonight’s bizarre and thrilling events left her oddly excited, forgetting fear. She thought of how she had survived locked at home on gossip from the Immortal Gate—now lucky enough to witness the earth-shaking reunion of two masters after twenty years from the front row!
Feeling a surge of passion, she saw the white papers ride the wild wind again. In a blink, the two figures were whisked onto a high rooftop across the street, leaving only two distant silhouettes under the bright moon.
Xie Yuzhu was greatly disappointed, hopping futilely on the ground, thinking, “They ran so far, I won’t hear what they say!”
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On the rooftop, Wen Ci grabbed Ye Minwei by the collar and lifted her beyond the eaves, furious: “Ye Minwei, what are you thinking? You’ve failed as a nightmare cultivator—no memory, no power, your nightmare beasts run wild like fat sheep. Standing at the center of the storm, you come down the mountain to seek death?”
Ye Minwei did not struggle, lowering her gaze to Wen Ci’s eyes: “You seem very concerned about me.”
Wen Ci raised an eyebrow: “Is that the point?”
“I heard we’ve cut ties and are enemies now.”
“Do you want to die by my hand?”
Ye Minwei pointed downward, indicating a clear path: “If you let go now, I’ll fall and die.”
Wen Ci lowered his eyes, as if measuring the height between the eaves and the ground. Ye Minwei felt the hand on her collar tighten, then stiffly withdraw as he set her down on the rooftop.
The moonlight was cold; the red at his lips and eyes darkened, like white jade stained with vermilion—ambiguous in gender, his reluctant expression vivid.
Ye Minwei candidly and inopportunely said: “You really are a beauty.”
Outside, it would cost a thousand taels of silver just to speak with him—quite persuasive.
A vein twitched on Wen Ci’s forehead.
The next moment, Ye Minwei was thrown off the rooftop, plummeting like a falling bird toward the ground. Xie Yuzhu gasped in alarm, reaching out to catch her. Before her hands could touch the hem of Ye Minwei’s robe, a flock of white papers interposed, cushioning Ye Minwei’s fall and gently lowering her like wings.
Xie Yuzhu’s arms froze mid-air, utterly bewildered by the situation.
Wen Ci landed on the stone path, riding on the white papers, and said to Ye Minwei: “Don’t think about regaining your memory or power. Every faction in the world is watching your nightmare beasts. You have nothing—how can you fight them? If you want to survive, hide. Don’t let anyone find you.”
Ye Minwei steadied herself on the ground, lifted her hand, and solemnly said: “I have you.”
Wen Ci looked behind to ensure no one else was there. She meant him.
He pointed to himself incredulously: “Me? Ye Minwei, what are you saying? We’re enemies—you said it yourself.”
“But I didn’t kill you.”
“I’m still alive; doesn’t that mean you didn’t kill me?”
“How could I kill you if you’re still alive?”
“You don’t remember me at all. To you, I’m as good as dead. How is that different from killing me?”
“Now that I’ve met you again, you’re no longer dead to me. When I regain my memories, won’t you be revived?”
Xie Yuzhu was silent, her gaze bouncing between the two, thinking, “Could you at least talk about something normal? Something anyone could understand?”
Yet these two seemed to believe their conversation was perfectly normal. Wen Ci took a deep breath, his face cold as he stared at Ye Minwei, saying, “No need for words. If you want me to help you, you’re simply dreaming in broad daylight. If you beg me…”