On this day, the autumn sky was high and the air was crisp.
The book said it was an auspicious day for killing bandits, reciting the Golden Fillet Spell, and changing personnel.
Sun Wukong had long since grown accustomed to it. He had tried it before and summed up his experience and lessons: it wasn't that bandits had to be killed. If they weren't to be killed, then don't kill them. When faced with those who came to seek enlightenment of their own accord, simply accept them with a smile.
Besides, with the strange and bizarre faces of their group, could any bandits bold enough to rob them really be ordinary people?
As for how he would spend his long vacation after the True and False Monkey King incident once he returned to Flower-Fruit Mountain, Sun Wukong had stopped daydreaming about it.
Sun Wukong didn't yet know about the arrangements above. Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. Habit had numbed the monkey, and he knew one truth very well: not a single unlucky chore assigned to him would ever be missing.
Endure it!
Looking at the page count, he was almost through it.
On the main road, figures swayed in the grass to either side. More than twenty burly men sprang out in unison, each sporting a scarred, bearded bandit face. Their bearing was even more extraordinary—crooked melons and split dates born destined to make a living at this trade.
Sha Wujing stood where he was, carrying the luggage pole without budging. Zhu Bajie atop it snored away, having been offline for quite some time.
Tang Sanzang smiled faintly and stepped down from his horse, pressing his palms together as he approached. Before he could say much, Sun Wukong raised his staff and brought it down, sending the bandits