Chapter 11 – Dreamland

The accommodation system at Zhuzhao Academy wasn’t overly strict. Students could choose to live in the single-occupancy dormitories provided by the school or reside elsewhere.

However, when certain courses demanded extended periods of study, the school required students to stay in their dorms during those times.

Scions of prominent families, such as Yun Xinglei and Qi Liu, would return to their family’s nearby residences. As for Yun Xiguang, he rented a place close to the school.

He didn’t wish to return to the Yun household, nor did he want to get too close to his classmates. He had secrets of his own, and solitude suited him best.

According to national law, citizens were considered quasi-adults at sixteen and fully adult at eighteen. Before turning sixteen, they must be under the protection of a guardian. After sixteen, they could gradually integrate into society, with guardians exercising less control over citizens aged sixteen and above until they reached complete independence at eighteen.

Until he turned sixteen, Yun Xiguang lived in the Yun household, enduring a life of considerable pressure. Upon reaching sixteen, he received his meager inheritance from his parents and used the money to rent a place outside the family home.

His parents had a decent income and owned properties in Jing City, Hai City, and Guang City. However, there was still some mortgage debt outstanding on these properties.

After his parents’ passing, as a minor, Yun Xiguang came under the care of the Yun family, who took charge of his parents’ assets and him. The family assumed responsibility for repaying the loans, and naturally, the houses fell under their jurisdiction.

If Yun Xiguang remained the recognized heir of the Yun family, once the loans were paid off, the properties would be handed back to him, along with additional compensatory assets. But now that Yun Xiguang had been abandoned, the Yun family treated him coldly, though they refrained from completely seizing the homes that rightfully belonged to him.

The Yun family demanded that Yun Xiguang repay the bank loans they had covered since his childhood, along with an annual interest rate of 2.5%. Once these debts were settled, Yun Xiguang could reclaim the three houses.

But these three properties were in prime locations and sizable; even after partially repaying the loans, the remaining debt amounted to ten million yuan. Adding the interest of 2.5% per year since he was eight, totaling ten years, the sum was astronomical for an eighteen-year-old Yun Xiguang.

To make matters worse, just before his parents passed away, they had prepaid a portion of the loan, leaving only thirty thousand yuan in cash in their account.

This thirty thousand yuan had been diligently managed by the Yun family on Yun Xiguang’s behalf, accruing a fixed deposit interest rate of 3.5% annually. When Yun Xiguang turned sixteen, he received the principal plus interest, amounting to a little over forty thousand yuan, which he used to lease a single apartment near Zhuzhao Academy.

Zhuzhao Academy was situated in a small city adjacent to Jing City, roughly a hundred kilometers away. Rent was not as exorbitant as in Jing City, allowing Yun Xiguang to pay for three years of rent in advance and have some funds left over for living expenses.

As a student, Zhuzhao Academy provided a cafeteria where Yun Xiguang could eat all three meals. Even during holidays, he could take food out from the cafeteria, alleviating any concerns about food costs.

The school supplied uniforms, which many students chose not to wear. But whenever Yun Xiguang was on campus, he wore his uniform.

This way, he only needed to buy a few simple, durable clothes for personal use, keeping his cost of living low.

Struggling until he turned eighteen, Yun Xiguang could then begin his internship. Given his unique status, even as an intern, he would receive the salary of a full-time employee, along with attendance allowances from Zhuzhao Academy. Once he started interning, Yun Xiguang could earn approximately eight to ten thousand yuan per month, quickly accumulating wealth.

If Yun Xiguang pursued a career unrelated to being a spirit bond master, after graduating from a regular university, he would be assigned clerical work at the Special Affairs Bureau. Due to his involvement with spirit beasts, apart from the salary from the bureau, the Spiritbond Master Association would also provide him with remuneration. His annual income upon employment could reach between 150,000 to 200,000 yuan.

Enduring another decade or two, climbing the ranks, if he managed to secure the position of deputy director overseeing logistics, Yun Xiguang could enjoy an annual salary of around five hundred thousand yuan.

A life of comfort and prosperity awaited him, free from worries.

The indifferent Yun family, his parents’ friends, as well as teachers and administrators at Zhuzhao Academy, all believed Yun Xiguang should lead such a life.

After all, he was already a useless individual without a spirit root, wasn’t he?

For Yun Xiguang, this was already the best possible outcome.

Yet, Yun Xiguang couldn’t forget the massive serpent tail that flashed across the sky on the day his parents met their demise; he couldn’t shake off the heartache of failing to recall their names; nor could he erase the memories of joyous moments spent with his parents during his childhood.

He sought the truth, yearned for their names, and desired vengeance.

He aimed to reclaim the properties belonging to his parents from the Yun family; to make those who had forsaken him witness his achievements; and to become an exceptional individual, much like his parents had envisioned, evolving into a significant figure capable of transforming the spirit bond world.

Yun Xiguang was far from the detached and otherworldly persona he portrayed. He harbored boundless desires, which fueled his relentless pursuit.

In the dead of night, Yun Xiguang drifted off to sleep in his rented room’s modest bed, with his newly acquired spirit bond master certificate beside his pillow, and the recently bonded little spirit bird nestled in the crook of his neck. In his dreams, his unwavering obsessions lingered.

This terrifying obsession and desire disturbed the deep slumber of Chi Qiong.

After utilizing the golden cloak to borrow the True Sun Fire and teach his opponent a lesson, Chi Qiong was utterly exhausted and fell into a deep sleep.

He realized he was weaker than he imagined.

Even borrowing power, merely the True Sun Fire responding to his call, drained all his energy.

As he plummeted from the snow wolf’s head, Chi Qiong finally acknowledged that he had lost all his strength.

But this held no significance for Chi Qiong.

For eons, every time he awakened, he lost a portion of his power.

From extinguishing a million-year-long rainstorm to nurturing all things with his own spiritual energy, and then witnessing the rise of humanity, Chi Qiong repeatedly shared his power, infusing vitality into this world.

Now that he had lost all his strength, it signified that the world no longer required him.

So he would continue sleeping, without worrying about the complexities of the world, until it called upon him again.

Chi Qiong descended into a peaceful slumber, falling endlessly in his dream. He knew he would plummet to the deepest core of the earth, remaining in perpetual sleep.

This was a cycle Chi Qiong had experienced countless times, one he had grown accustomed to. The only difference this time was the brevity of his awakening. He hadn’t had the chance to understand why he had awoken or how the world had changed.

But it didn’t matter. Even if he understood, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Since he was destined to fall asleep, it meant this era wasn’t the right time for him to awaken, and its rules weren’t meant for him to comprehend.

When he awoke next time, the world would have transformed yet again. What was destined to change, understanding it was unnecessary.

Chi Qiong slept soundly, descending in his dream, until he was unexpectedly halted, suspended in midair.

With a faint sense of confusion, he opened his eyes and saw an invisible thread.

This thread was linked to a bond.

Chi Qiong recalled that he had taken on a spirit servant, an individual who respected him immensely and revered him as a superior.

The spirit servant had procured a mount for him (though the mount was somewhat weak), commanded spirit beasts to submit to him (though the number of spirit beasts was rather small), and venerated him, calling out his honorific name (though it was incorrect).

Despite the numerous shortcomings of this spirit servant, still…still…still…

Still, this Exalted One was in a good mood and responded to this spirit servant. Truly, this Exalted One was a benevolent superior. After pondering for a while, Chi Qiong found a reason to accept this bond.

Chi Qiong brushed against his wings, noticing a feather that shimmered faintly — it was the golden cloak he had temporarily lent to Yun Xiguang.

Sensing the presence of the golden cloak, Chi Qiong felt he had already assisted his spirit servant with a task and lent him a phoenix feather, deeming the bond fulfilled.

Since he intended to sleep again, there was no need to maintain this bond.

Chi Qiong raised his small wings and gently placed them on the thread of the bond, intending to sever it.

Fortunately, this was merely an oral bond, not a genuine spirit bond. Otherwise, if Chi Qiong unilaterally severed the bond, the spirit servant’s soul would suffer severe damage, rendering them unable to speak or think, similar to a modern-day vegetative state.

However, an oral bond that had been acknowledged, even when severed, would only cause the other party momentary discomfort, without causing significant harm.

It was time for him to sleep. Chi Qiong flapped his small wings, slicing through the fine line, and closed his eyes, preparing to resume his descent.

The anticipated plummet didn’t occur. After waiting for a while, Chi Qiong opened his eyes in puzzlement, finding that the thread remained.

Has this Exalted One become so feeble that it can’t even sever an oral bond? Chi Qiong thought unhappily.

He continuously fluttered his small wings, exerting all his might, yet failed to sever the bond.

“What’s going on? This Exalted One isn’t such a weak creature!” Chi Qiong was irked.

He placed his wings on the thread, planning to investigate further.

“Spirit servant, pull this Exalted One up,” Chi Qiong commanded, shaking the bond thread.

He wasn’t speaking into thin air. This order would be transmitted to the spirit servant through the bond thread, reaching them as long as the bond remained intact.

Upon hearing Chi Qiong’s command, Yun Xiguang, who was sound asleep, dreamed of the little spirit bird he had just adopted appearing before him, spreading its wings.

In the dream, Yun Xiguang stood on the ground, his shoulders, arms, and hands bearing countless boulder-like burdens — symbolizing his obsessions and desires.

These burdens weighed him down, forcing him to kneel on the ground, creating a nearly meter-deep pit beneath his knees.

Kneeling in the pit, his body burdened with heavy stones, only his head was visible.

At this moment, the little spirit bird mysteriously appeared in Yun Xiguang’s dream, chirping at him and spreading its tender wings.

Yun Xiguang couldn’t understand what the little spirit bird was saying, but he sensed it wanted to be held.

“I don’t have my hands free right now,” Yun Xiguang explained gently to the little spirit bird.

The little spirit bird urged him again, insisting on being held. It flapped its wings, seemingly trying to fly toward Yun Xiguang but failing, appearing to struggle.

Looking at the clumsy little spirit bird, Yun Xiguang remembered the vow he made when he formed the bond with it.

He had vowed to care for and protect the little spirit bird.

It was merely an oral vow, but in Yun Xiguang’s heart, he regarded this oral bond as a soul bond, one he intended to safeguard with his very soul.

But he was weighed down heavily; how could he lift his hands to pick up the little spirit bird?

Yun Xiguang glanced at the heavy burdens on his body, gazing at the somewhat unhappy little spirit bird, recalling the words his father once spoke to him —

“Xiaoxi, do you know? A spirit bond isn’t a constraint or a mere agreement. Our relationship with spirit beasts isn’t one of mutual exploitation but of mutual protection. We, spirit bond masters, protect spirit beasts under the laws of heaven, while spirit beasts guide us into a fantastical world, embarking on wondrous journeys. Meeting each other is a shared stroke of luck for both spirit beasts and spirit bond masters.

“Remember, spirit beasts are protectors, not burdens.”

The little spirit bird was an entity he was meant to protect. He was alone in the world, but having someone to protect brought him immense joy.

With this realization, Yun Xiguang felt an endless surge of strength within him. He took a deep breath, stood up despite the weight of the massive stones, and with a wave of his right hand, piled all the stones on his left arm, extending his hand steadily toward the little spirit bird, cradling it in his palm.

This was Yun Xiguang’s dream.

On the other side, in Chi Qiong’s dream, as Yun Xiguang stretched out his hand, the thread on Chi Qiong’s body began to rapidly ascend.

Almost instantly, Chi Qiong opened his eyes.

He rolled over, struggling to sit up in the darkness, glaring at the still-sleeping Yun Xiguang.

This was bizarre!

A mere oral bond somehow connected his, the mighty Phoenix Venerable’s dream, with a spirit servant’s dream, rousing him from the brink of sleep.

How could an oral bond possess such power?!

Analyzing the situation using the knowledge accumulated over eons, Chi Qiong gained a vague understanding of what had transpired.

It seemed the spirit servant had inscribed this oral bond into their very soul. This spirit servant possessed a powerful obsession, which locked onto the bond. Severing the bond, even if it was just an oral bond, could severely injure the spirit servant’s soul.

This intense obsession granted the oral bond the power of a soul bond.

What a nuisance! Was this Exalted One destined to accompany a mere spirit servant indefinitely? How undignified! Chi Qiong thought, staring at Yun Xiguang’s handsome sleeping face.

Fortunately, Chi Qiong was a wise Phoenix Venerable, endowed with infinite wisdom. After a moment’s contemplation, he devised a solution.

During the brief connection of dreams, Chi Qiong sensed that the spirit servant harbored many desires, requiring immense power to fulfill them.

Once the spirit servant’s desires were satisfied, their obsession would weaken, allowing Chi Qiong to easily sever the bond.

“This Exalted One shall grant you power,” Chi Qiong declared proudly, considering it a trivial matter.

He placed his claws on Yun Xiguang’s forehead, intending to bestow power upon his spirit servant, but despite several attempts, there was no response.

Well, he had lost all his strength and was currently unable to bestow any.

But this wouldn’t deter the great Phoenix Venerable. He was the first flame in existence; as long as there was fire, he could regain his strength.

But where could he find fire?

Using his divine senses, Chi Qiong explored the small room, discovering a whiff of fire emanating from a room filled with pots and pans.

That must be it!

The little spirit bird laboriously hopped off the bed, heading toward the source of the fire.

Yun Xiguang was engrossed in a dream of bearing the weight of massive stones when suddenly, a loud crash startled him awake. He jolted open his eyes, roused from his dream.

A flash of fire illuminated the room, accompanied by a scent of burning.

Realizing something was amiss, Yun Xiguang leaped out of bed and rushed to the kitchen.

Bursting into the kitchen, unsure of the situation, he dared not ignite a flame or turn on the lights, relying solely on moonlight to see.

Fortunately, the Awakening Thunder this year coincided with the fifteenth day of the lunar calendar. Today was the sixteenth day of the second month, and the moon was bright and full, providing ample light to discern what had happened.

There, amidst the charred remains of the kitchen, stood a completely blackened little chicken, its feathers sticking out in all directions, proudly staring at Yun Xiguang.

In the midst of the scorched kitchen, Yun Xiguang immediately spotted the little spirit bird with its sparkling eyes.

Seeing that the little spirit bird was unharmed, Yun Xiguang let out a sigh of relief.

He rushed to the little spirit bird, extending his hand to comfort it.

Chi Qiong wasn’t sure how everything had ended up this way. All he did was place a phoenix feather in a spot with a fiery aura, presumably inside a large pot.

But the large pot exploded upon contact with the phoenix feather, reducing the room to ruins.

Observing the spirit servant reaching out to him, Chi Qiong felt a twinge of guilt but maintained his haughty demeanor, chirping at the spirit servant.

Chi Qiong: It wasn’t this Exalted One’s fault. Your mundane items simply couldn’t withstand the power of this Exalted One.

If the spirit servant dared to show him any displeasure for this, he would…

Before Chi Qiong could decide how to punish the spirit servant, he was cupped in Yun Xiguang’s palms and pressed against his chest.

“As long as you’re alright,” Yun Xiguang said, still shaken. “I was sleeping too deeply, I didn’t realize you were hungry. It’s my fault.”

Initially hesitant and prepared to endure a slight temper tantrum from the spirit servant, Chi Qiong was taken aback.

He was enveloped in Yun Xiguang’s tenderness.

This was an emotion Chi Qiong had never experienced since the beginning of time, from the dawn of creation.