Patriarch Bodhi's Three Strikes, Wukong Grasps the Secret

Mount Fangcun, Slanting Moon, Three Stars Cave.

It had been exactly seven years since Sun Wukong became Patriarch Bodhi's disciple.

Over those seven years, Patriarch Bodhi had not taught him any spells for absorbing spiritual energy or flying through the heavens and burrowing through the earth.

Every morning, Sun Wukong rose with his senior and junior brothers and listened as Patriarch Bodhi expounded on scriptures and the Dao.

After class, he swept the courtyards, carried water and ground grain, tended flowers and pruned trees, hoed the gardens, and planted vegetables.

Day after day, year after year.

Whenever he tried to indirectly ask his master when he would teach him the art of immortality, Patriarch Bodhi never even looked at him, merely tossing out one sentence.

"What are you in such a hurry for? Your foundation is not yet stable. Even if you learned it, it would be for nothing."

Sun Wukong did not dare ask again.

Though he had an impatient nature, his decade-plus journey in search of immortals had already worn away most of his rashness.

He could wait.

On this day, Patriarch Bodhi opened the altar in the Great Hall to preach as usual.

Inside the hall, dozens of disciples sat in rows on either side, upright and solemn.

Sun Wukong sat in the last row, his back ramrod straight and both ears perked up as he listened with utmost attention.

Patriarch Bodhi sat upright on the high platform, speaking of the principles of heaven, earth, and nature.

He spoke at an unhurried pace, occasionally pausing to sweep his gaze over the expressions of the disciples below.

Most of the disciples wore respectful expressions, but their eyes were filled with confusion.

They had heard him, but had not understood everything.

Patriarch Bodhi's gaze passed over the crowd before