Chapter 14: Bound

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“You disappeared without a trace after leaving the Carefree Sect, only to reappear at the foot of Mount Kunwu seeking an audience with the Wuxi bloodline.”
“As expected, you were rejected by the Wuxi bloodline, but you didn’t exchange pleasantries—you broke through their formation and ascended the mountain directly. Even Wen Ci likely lacked the strength to drive you away. You stayed on the mountain, refusing to leave, and that lasted for seventy years.”
During this period, many immortal sects suffered devastating losses in the Dream Ruins catastrophe, nearly wiping out a generation of pillars supporting the realm. Some smaller sect leaders perished in the Dream Ruins, and numerous arcane techniques were nearly lost to time.
One minor sect, recalling Ye Minwei’s reputation as a prodigy in arcane arts, brought a damaged manual to Mount Kunwu, imploring her to help restore their internal techniques.
Ye Minwei never showed herself but accepted the damaged manual. The sect had little hope, yet before long, Ye Minwei returned the completed manual. Not only was it restored, but she also added half a volume, introducing several variations that increased the techniques' power more than threefold.
Thanks to this enhancement, the sect’s strength surged, and Ye Minwei’s fame spread far and wide. Visitors from various sects came to Mount Kunwu. At first, they were small sects, but eventually, even grand sects like Baiyun Pavilion and Fuguang Sect paid visits.
Ye Minwei never turned anyone away. No matter how fragmented the manual, she could restore it fully and often added several volumes of innovative variations. Her imagination was boundless and exquisite, raising the level of the entire immortal sect’s techniques.
She never appeared in person or spoke much with those who sought her guidance, so the sects gradually trusted her and entrusted her with their secret arts. Through this, Ye Minwei came into contact with a vast array of advanced immortal techniques, laying the groundwork for the later Spirit Artifact calamity.
“After thirty years of seclusion, you announced that together with the Wuxi bloodline, you developed Dream Nightmare arts and Nightmare cultivators, selflessly sharing these cultivation methods with the world. For a time, you were renowned everywhere, honored as grandmasters. Mr. Wu also recovered and descended the mountain; he organized the chaotic dreams of the Dream Ruins into thirty-two layers of dreams, teaching the world Nightmare arts through them. He was revered as the Lord of the Dream Ruins, and thus, Nightmare practitioners came into existence.”
“You remained on Mount Kunwu, continuing to receive requests for teachings from various sects. Twenty peaceful years passed.”
The porcelain bowl tapped crisply on the table again. Xie Yuzhu finished her narration and concluded, “This is the story of you and the Lord of the Dream Ruins before all the upheavals.”
As the turbulent tale ended, Ye Minwei appeared thoughtful. Xie Yuzhu observed her expression and asked, “Master, how do you feel after hearing all this?”
Ye Minwei showed a hint of regret. “So, I once studied over a hundred manuals and even researched Wen Ci’s Dream Roaming abilities?”
“…That should be the case.”
“What a pity—I can’t believe I forgot it all.”
Such regret was rare on Ye Minwei’s face; she seemed truly mournful, almost tearing at her clothes and stamping her feet.
Xie Yuzhu was speechless but still pressed on, “Don’t you have any other thoughts about those grudges and disputes?”
“No.”
“…”
Xie Yuzhu thought her master was indeed a transcendent being, beyond the Three Realms and Five Elements, no longer bothered by worldly matters.
Convincing herself, she let go of her struggle and looked to the future. “Then… what should we do next? We have neither cultivation nor intelligence. How do we find your nightmare beast?”
Ye Minwei pondered for a moment, took out a vision stone and wore it, then held up the broken golden bracelet, examining it carefully. This time, the bracelet didn’t lose two rings but seemed unable to activate.
Blue symbols appeared on Ye Minwei’s vision stone. She said, “I’ll first repair the bracelet, then buy dried persimmons, and finally find Wen Ci.”
“Master, do you know where he is?”
“No.”

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“…You say he is the illustrious Lord of the Dream Ruins, but what’s happened these past twenty years? Is he feigning death to hide from something? He barely shows himself and even disguises as the opposite gender, borrowing another Nightmare practitioner’s name! Truly suspicious!”
At the other side of Liang Shan City, Wen Ci, who was napping with his head on the table, sneezed loudly and rubbed his nose, looking gloomy as he sat up. The waiter smiled and approached. “Sir, you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t dare disturb you. The dishes are ready and warming in the kitchen. Shall I serve them now?”
“All right.” Wen Ci replied curtly.
He was preoccupied, restless, and had slept poorly, so his mood was irritable. After tapping his fingers anxiously on the table, he picked up a teacup lid and began flipping it dexterously between his fingers, spinning it into a flourish.
Watching the lid fly, he muttered absentmindedly, “With her temperament, she won’t give up. But if…”
He paused, then clenched the lid and sneered, “So what? None of my business.”
“Sir, your skill is amazing! I’ve never seen hands so nimble!” the waiter exclaimed with admiration.
Wen Ci chuckled lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world and needed no praise. He looked up at the waiter lazily. “What? Want me to perform one for you now?”
The waiter quickly smiled and said, “I’ll get your dishes right away! Please wait!”
After that, he hurried back to the kitchen, thinking this foreigner was handsome and had been secretly admired while asleep, but now awake, his temper was quite fierce.
Wen Ci continued playing with the lid as he waited for the food. The spring sunlight was just right. The tavern had set many tables and stools outside along the street. Wen Ci sat at one such table under the bright blue sky, surrounded by bustling pedestrians—a lively scene full of earthly life.
Across the street, a crowd had gathered unknowingly, gathering beneath a long thick rope stretched high between two wooden posts, suspended even higher than the rooftops. A middle-aged man in coarse gray cloth stood on the rope, holding a long pole, walking briskly back and forth, balancing on one foot, even jumping lightly as if walking on solid ground.
The onlookers cheered excitedly. The man, seated confidently on the rope, declared loudly, “I am the world’s number one tightrope king, Jiang Husheng of Suo Shang Hu. Today, I perform for you all—thank you for your support!”
Wen Ci scoffed and said slowly, “World’s number one? Tightrope king? Nowadays, anyone dares to claim to be number one.”
He put down the lid, stretched, and got up to walk over. The waiter was carrying dishes and, surprised, asked, “Sir, where are you going?”
“To meet the world’s number one.” Wen Ci didn’t look back.
Jiang Husheng was performing with pride when a voice shouted from below, “Who crowned you number one?”
Jiang Husheng looked down and saw a strikingly handsome foreign man step out of the crowd. The man’s hair was half loose, with many small braids woven through, each adorned with colorful little bells. His inner clothes, sash, long robe, belt, pants, and boots were all in different colors—yellow, blue, orange, green—intertwined like a blooming butterfly.
And he was dressed extremely well, which was maddening.
Jiang Husheng, having performed tightrope walking in the area for many years, had encountered troublemakers before. Folding his arms, he said confidently, “I crowned myself. You don’t agree, brother?”
The man looked up at him and asked, “I don’t agree. What will you do about it?”
“Come up and compete!”
The man smiled lightly, climbed the post with a few steps, and stood lightly atop the wooden pole. “Gladly.”
Jiang Husheng, seeing the man’s agility, felt a surge of anxiety. Clearing his throat, he loudly said, “Since you challenge me, state your name!”
“My name is Wen Ci.” The man tested the rope with his foot, then suddenly stepped onto it. Without a pole, he advanced with his hands behind his back, twisting as he went. His feet crossed smoothly, even bypassing Jiang Husheng, who was standing mid-rope. In the blink of an eye, he reached the other end of the rope.

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His butterfly-like robe fluttered down. Wen Ci raised his chin and slowly said, “I am versed in all dances and performances, master of all. I claim to be second, for no one dares to be first in the world.”
Jiang Husheng’s eyes widened in fury. He angrily threw down his bamboo pole. “Fine! Let’s have a contest!”
At Liang Shan City’s other end, Xie Yuzhu was carefully examining the bracelet Ye Minwei had been repairing. She touched the two rings still dangling and asked, “Master, is this considered fixed now?”
“No. I still can’t perform the Smoke to Ash Technique or the Thorn Growth Technique, but it seems I can activate a new technique now.” Ye Minwei took the bracelet and traced the patterns inside it.
“Wow! There are so many techniques hidden in this bracelet. If you fix it, it will be incredible.”
“I can’t fully repair it; it’s not mine originally.”
“Ah, how is that possible…”
Before Xie Yuzhu finished, Ye Minwei pressed a protrusion inside one of the rings. Suddenly, a fierce wind swept through, overturning the table. Startled, they both lost grip of the crystal vision stone and bracelet. At the critical moment, Xie Yuzhu leapt forward and caught the vision stone.
She held it tightly, hardly daring to breathe, heart pounding wildly. This was the Vision Stone of the Sect of Myriad Phenomena! Such a precious item! Breaking it would haunt her sleepless for three days.
She silently thanked her luck. When she looked up, she saw the overturned furniture and scattered dishes, but the even more precious Sect of Myriad Phenomena itself was nowhere to be found.
Meanwhile, the golden bracelet rolled across the floor and came to rest near a stray dog’s paw.
The dog picked up the bracelet in its mouth.
Xie Yuzhu froze, locking eyes with the pale, gaunt dog. The dog suddenly turned and darted off. Xie Yuzhu shouted, “Oh no!” and chased after it.
Elsewhere, the contest between Jiang Husheng and Wen Ci grew more intense. Jiang Husheng was a seasoned vagabond with many skills. Realizing that pure tightrope skill couldn’t beat Wen Ci, he cleverly incorporated tricks while walking the rope.
He walked along the rope, his small fan transforming into a peach, then a rattle, and finally a rabbit.
The audience cheered loudly, their eyes shining and hands clapping red.
Wen Ci chuckled softly and said under his breath, “Not a bad variety.”
Jiang Husheng stood atop the wooden pole, glaring challengingly at Wen Ci.
Wen Ci leisurely stepped onto the rope and had taken a few elegant steps forward when a sudden gust of wind struck. He felt his wrist, waist, and ankle tighten suddenly, as if heavy weights pulled him downward. He tensed his feet, hooking the rope to avoid falling.
The warm weight behind him whispered, “So this is the Binding Immortal Technique.”
The person tightly bound to him turned, revealing strands of silver hair and bright eyes. “Wen Ci, I’ve found you.”
The crowd below fell silent for a moment, then erupted into enthusiastic applause and cheers.
“A live transformation! Brilliant! Spectacular!”