Fangcun Mountain, Slanted Moon and Three Stars Cave.
It had been a full seven years since Sun Wukong entered Patriarch Bodhi's tutelage.
In those seven years, Patriarch Bodhi had not taught him any arts of inhaling and exhaling spiritual energy, flying through the heavens, or burrowing through the earth.
Every morning at dawn, Sun Wukong rose with his senior brothers and listened to Patriarch Bodhi expound the scriptures and discuss the Dao.
After class came sweeping the courtyards, carrying water and hauling slurry, tending flowers and pruning trees, hoeing the garden and planting vegetables.
Day after day, year after year.
Every time he tried to beat around the bush and ask his master when he would teach him the art of immortality, Patriarch Bodhi never so much as glanced at him, only tossing out one sentence.
"What is the hurry? Your foundation is not yet firm. Even if you learned it, you would have learned it for nothing."
Sun Wukong did not dare ask again.
Though he was impatient by nature, more than ten years on the road seeking immortals had long since worn away most of his rashness.
He could afford to wait.
On this day, as usual, Patriarch Bodhi opened the altar in the main hall to expound the Dao.
Inside the hall, several dozen disciples sat arrayed on both sides, backs straight and robes proper.
Sun Wukong sat in the very last row, his spine ramrod straight, both ears pricked up, listening with utmost seriousness.
Patriarch Bodhi sat upright on the high dais, speaking of the principles of heaven, earth, and nature.
He lectured at an unhurried pace, occasionally pausing for a moment to sweep his gaze over the expressions of the disciples below.
Most disciples wore respectful looks, but their eyes were clouded with blankness.
They