In the space of a thought, the mountains across a thousand li trembled.
It was no earthquake. The Dao Ancestor's will brushed over the mountains and earth like a breeze across water, raising ripples upon ripples.
Those ripples traveled far.
They reached a stronghold deep in the mountains, where the bandits suddenly grew restless.
The one-eyed brute returned to the stronghold and gathered everyone who could hold a blade.
There were more than three hundred of them. Some carried broadswords, some spears, some iron forks, and some had nothing but wooden clubs.
The one-eyed brute stood on a raised platform and swept his lone eye over the crowd below. His voice was rough, like sandpaper scraping wood. "Brothers, there are fat sheep at the foot of the mountain."
No one asked how he knew.
In their line of work, there was no need to ask too many questions. If the boss said to go down the mountain, down they went.
Howling, the bandits raised their weapons and charged down the mountain after the one-eyed brute.
They pushed through dense woods, waded across streams, and crossed mountain ridges, heading toward the land beyond the mountains.
The night wind blew up from the valley, carrying the damp scent of grass and trees and the smell of cooking smoke from distant farmhouses.
The one-eyed brute led the way, his lone eye gleaming in the dark like a wolf's.
At the farmhouse.
Tang Sanzang finished his porridge, set down his bowl, picked up his staff, and rose to urge them onward to Western Heaven for the scriptures.
Sun Wukong finished his fruit and casually tossed away the pit. He hopped down from the threshold, wiped the juice from his hands, shouldered the luggage, and urged the horse along.
After bidding the old farmer farewell,