Chapter 22: Nightmare

Although Wen Ci had successfully "risen from the dead" today, he had lost a great deal of blood. His face was now pale as paper, his complexion so poor that it perfectly matched the legend of a resurrected corpse—a truly beautiful corpse, at that.

He turned his head to cast a faint glance at Xie Yuzhu, his expression unreadable. Before she could hurriedly scramble to make amends, he rose and walked toward the door, tossing the message orb to Ye Miwei, who stood by the entrance.

"The Ghost Market has released new information. Your Nightmare Beast appeared at Mount Chongdan two days ago. Mount Chongdan is four hundred miles from here; we depart tomorrow night."

The moment the orb hit Ye Miwei’s hand, it began to spin, projecting several lines of text into the air. Ye Miwei’s face betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

"If you dare dismantle that orb, I will throw your disciple away!" Wen Ci threatened, pointing at her.

Xie Yuzhu was too aggrieved and intimidated to speak, but Ye Miwei indeed wore an expression of regret, as if he had guessed her intentions exactly.

"I could put it back together."

"Information flow in the Ghost Market is strictly regulated. I left a wisp of Sun Sheng’s death-dream on the orb, disguising it as if he were still holding it. If you dismantle it and the people from the Ghost Market sense that it is no longer Sun Sheng, the flow of information will be severed instantly."

The Witch tribe possessed the unique ability to preserve the dreams of the deceased. The reason the Dream Ruins became the Dream Ruins was that, at the moment of the desperate struggle between the Witch tribespeople and the heroes of the various immortal sects, the Dream-Weaving Arts overlapped with other techniques, leaving behind a vast amount of chaotic death-dreams. These death-dreams, sustained by the profound cultivation of the deceased, remained undying for years.

It was said that the Master of the Dream Ruins had spent years just sorting through those dreams.

Wen Ci warned Ye Miwei, "Do not cause unnecessary trouble. Find your Nightmare Beast as soon as possible, recover your memory and cultivation, and finish my business so that I can be liberated."

With that, he turned and left, never once mentioning the matter they had just been discussing, seemingly indifferent to it. Ye Miwei, even more oblivious, held the message orb, turning it over and over to study it intently.

Xie Yuzhu couldn't help but think: How rare, when did Mr. Wu become so magnanimous?

Wen Ci said they wouldn't depart until tomorrow night because he refused to do anything strenuous during the day. After all, while he could crush anyone under his feet at night, he would collapse long before someone else could try to step on him during the day.

After dawn, the four of them found a small inn by the road to lodge. Wen Ci, injured and having not closed his eyes all night, had to prop his chin with his hand during breakfast just to keep his head from drooping.

Xie Yuzhu and Cang Shu had rested well, and Ye Miwei, who did not need sleep, had spent the whole night studying the message orb and the Thread-Binding Box, appearing radiant as a result. Just as they were enjoying their meal, they heard the innkeeper and a waiter gossiping at the counter nearby.

The innkeeper cracked sunflower seeds, puzzled. "I had a strange dream last night. I dreamt it was raining gold coins from the sky—gold coins the size of beans falling pit-a-pat, and everyone on the street was picking them up. I even filled a large sack."

The waiter sighed, "That’s a good dream!"

"But just as I’d filled the bag, someone suddenly appeared before me and cursed me out! He called me an idiot, saying that if it really rained gold coins, the weight would kill people. He also said that raining gold coins was useless; if I picked them up, everyone else would too. The amount of goods wouldn't increase, only the gold, so the prices of firewood, rice, oil, and salt would just go up. In the end, even if I picked up the gold, I couldn't buy anything. It was all for nothing, and the joy was wasted—like fetching water with a bamboo basket. I'd never heard such a theory before, and I was still pondering it when I woke up."

The waiter exclaimed in surprise, "Boss, what a coincidence! I was cursed at in my dream too! I dreamt I finally married a wife. She was beautiful, gentle, and considerate. But just as I lifted the bridal veil, she disappeared. Someone else pointed at my nose and scolded me, saying I was lazy, greedy, and always relying on petty tricks, fishing for three days and drying nets for two. He said I hadn't changed at all and yet still wanted to marry such a good wife, and told me to look in a mirror to see if I was worthy."

"Oh my, what’s going on? Are we cursed? Did you see what that person looked like?"

"I really can't remember."

"I can't recall either..."

The innkeeper and the waiter marveled at the coincidence. Xie Yuzhu silently raised her eyes to look at Wen Ci, who returned her gaze with an expression that was both irritable and unashamed.

"Second Master... was that you?"

"And what if it was?"

Wen Ci remained calm and composed, stating righteously, "I was in a bad mood and wanted to scold people, so what? Was I wrong? Did I scold you?"

Xie Yuzhu thought to herself that Wen Ci was indeed not as magnanimous as she had imagined. She couldn't fathom how someone who had lived for nearly a hundred years could still have such a temperament; perhaps this was the legendary "returning to one's true self."

As Xie Yuzhu was silently criticizing him, Wen Ci said nonchalantly, "Also, what did you just call me?"

Xie Yuzhu shuddered and looked up at Wen Ci. Although she had called him "Second Master," they were no longer in the dilapidated temple, nor was there a secret tunnel. Surely Wen Ci wouldn't make her crawl back to Qingyang Ferry?

Wen Ci opened his bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes and gave a slight smile, saying nothing more. He reached out his hand to Ye Miwei and said faintly, "Have you finished studying the Thread-Binding Box?"

"Yes, I have." Ye Miwei handed the box back to Wen Ci.

The flat box, like everything else that touched Wen Ci's hands, began to spin nimbly between his fingers. After dancing in his hands for a moment, he unexpectedly tossed it to Xie Yuzhu.

"Since you called me Master, take this as a gift."

Wen Ci said it lightly, but Xie Yuzhu, cradling the intricately carved box, felt overwhelmed by the favor. To be accepted and receive such a powerful spiritual artifact—it was truly like a pie falling from the sky, leaving her caught off guard.

Wen Ci propped his chin up, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the table. "I am not a man who likes complications, and I only say certain things once. I don't care why you are following us—whether you think defying the world is thrilling, or if you want to learn something and make a name for yourself, think what you want. But you must understand: the moment you use this Thread-Binding Box, you are a Spirit Bandit."

"Look at Sun Sheng from yesterday to see what most Spirit Bandits are like. From this moment on, how you view Sun Sheng is how others will view you. How Sun Sheng died is how you, too, might die. You might want to say you aren't like him, that you won't bully the weak or slaughter the innocent, but so what? Who are you, Xie Yuzhu? Who will listen to you? Once you step onto this path, there is no turning back."

Wen Ci pointed at the box in Xie Yuzhu's hands and said slowly to the fledgling girl, "I give it to you, but the choice is yours. Think clearly about whether you want it or not. If not, give it back to me, and I’ll pretend I never heard anything about masters or disciples. If you want to leave, Ye Miwei won't stop you."

"A lady of the Xie family doesn't need to wade through these muddy waters. I have said all I have to say."

He put down his chopsticks and prepared to rise, but as he stood, his body swayed, unsteady. Ye Miwei caught his arm just in time.

He looked down at the hand Ye Miwei had used to grab him, his gaze slowly moving to her face. Ye Miwei simply tilted her head, her gray-black eyes looking at Wen Ci with tranquility.

Wen Ci curled his lips, as if finding it laughable. "Now you remember to help me?"

He shook off Ye Miwei's hand cleanly and turned to walk past the still-gossiping innkeeper and waiter. He strode upstairs, his figure upright and his gait smooth, never swaying again.

Cang Shu, who had remained silent throughout the meal, put down his bowl and said calmly, "Mr. Wen certainly holds a grudge."

Xie Yuzhu held the Thread-Binding Box, looking at Ye Miwei with confusion and hesitation, whispering, "First Master..."

"What is it?" Ye Miwei opened her clear eyes.

Xie Yuzhu thought for a moment and sighed, "Never mind."

Asking her First Master such questions was less effective than relying on herself.

This was the first time Wen Ci had laid out the situation for her so clearly. Although his words were harsh, Wen Ci was always harsh; the fact that he said these things at all was a sign of concern.

As Xie Yuzhu worried, she wondered if Wen Ci had heard her say last night that her master was heartless, and since he agreed, he had decided to show her a bit more "heart" as a result?

She had come to smooth things over, not to pick sides; this was truly not her original intention!

Everyone had their own thoughts during breakfast, and they dispersed to their respective rooms to rest when finished. In the late spring and early summer, the fragrance of flowers in the air faded, replaced by a growing, dry heat. Ye Miwei opened the window, letting the greenery of the tree branches outside fill her view, and sat at the table satisfied, taking the *Myriad Forms* from her wrist to place it on the tabletop.

"It is fortunate that Wen Ci arrived in time yesterday," Ye Miwei murmured while taking out her carving knife.

Sun Sheng had lost yesterday simply because he lacked patience. If he had waited just a moment longer, she would have repaired the *Myriad Forms*. The logic behind the repair had been a desperate gamble; she wouldn't have attempted it if not for the emergency, but she hadn't expected the results to be so good.

If Wen Ci hadn't come, she would have had to destroy it instead of continuing the repair—that would have been a real pity.

Ye Miwei put on her Vision Stone. Countless spirit-vein diagrams appeared in her field of vision, covering the entire world. She picked and calculated among those patterns that no one else could understand, her carving knife moving meticulously and slowly over the *Myriad Forms*.

A quarter of an hour passed. Ye Miwei lifted the bracelet, looked up at it, and smiled. "Done. It will last for a long time now."

Over the past few days, she had finally separated the spirit-vein circuits required for the *Smoking-to-Ash Art* and the *Thorn-Birth Art* from the intricate network within the *Myriad Forms*.

Then, she erased all the other spirit veins.

The spirit veins within the *Myriad Forms* were too complex; when the original crystal energy surged through them, they easily interfered with one another, destroying the established circuits. Therefore, the techniques that could be activated were limited, and the veins would fail after only a few uses.

In any case, those other diagrams were useless and caused interference, so why keep them? She had already memorized them all; keeping them in her mind for further research was enough.

However, this greatly reduced the flexibility of the bracelet's arts. Ye Miwei thought she should discuss this with Wen Ci.

So, she rose from the table, joyfully preparing to find him. She left her room, walked through the sunlight and tree shadows falling through the wooden window, turned a corner in the corridor, and arrived at Wen Ci's door.

At this time, Wen Ci was usually catching up on sleep, and his door was shut tight. The inn wasn't particularly large, and it was just a narrow, ordinary wooden door. Ye Miwei reached out to knock, as one normally would.

The moment her index finger tapped the door, the sound suddenly became muffled and indistinct. Ye Miwei felt as if she had been submerged in water; a sense of suffocation and dizziness surged like a tide. The moment she closed her eyes and opened them again, she was standing before a massive, brightly colored door. The corridor, the sunlight, and the tree shadows had vanished, leaving only an endless, boundless white.

Ye Miwei stood there, stunned for a moment. Then she stepped back and looked up, only to see that the wooden door, painted with vivid and strange patterns, was ten zhang wide and towered into the clouds, its top invisible. Compared to it, she was no bigger than an ant.