Inside Lotus Cave, all was deathly silent.
The four members of the Preaching Squad were gasping for breath after their desperate battle for survival.
Though the oppressive presence of Chaos Primordial had faded, the power within them had been all but wrung dry.
Sun Wukong leaned on the Golden-Hooped Staff, barely supporting his swaying body. The stony sheen on his skin slowly receded, turning him back into that monkey with a hairy face and a Thunder Duke's mouth.
Only his Fiery Eyes and Golden Pupils held a depth they had never possessed before.
Zhu Bajie sat slumped on the ground, unwilling to move even a finger.
His voice had gone hoarse, and his throat was thick with the taste of blood.
Sha Wujin knelt on one knee, his Demon-Subduing Treasure Staff driven deep into the ground as his last support.
His face was as pale as paper, and the black light within his meridians had dimmed to the faintest glimmer.
Tang Sanzang remained seated cross-legged, regulating his breathing with his eyes closed.
But cold sweat streamed down his forehead.
"Three Burials..." Sun Wukong's voice rasped like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together. "Did we... pass?"
No one answered him.
For at that very moment, an exceptionally gentle presence quietly descended.
It was neither oppressive might nor killing intent.
It was a kind of... comfort.
Sun Wukong felt a warm current flow into his body through the Golden-Hooped Staff, finally stabilizing his divine consciousness, which had been on the verge of collapse.
"Monkey Brother..." Zhu Bajie struggled to lift his head, his eyes filled with the relief of having survived a catastrophe.
Sha Wujin slowly exhaled a turbid breath as well, and some color returned to his face.
Tang Sanzang opened his eyes and swept his gaze over his three teammates,