Lesser Thunderclap Temple!
A desolate mountain, an ancient monastery; withered trees stood dying, and the temple lay steeped in gloom.
Though the Buddhist statues and murals bore an enduring Zen grace, and the halls were spacious and bright, they could not conceal the sinister aura seeping out from within. This was no Buddhist holy land—it was more like a demon's den.
"Why is there nothing again?"
"Why is there nothing anywhere?"
Staring at the utterly empty Grand Hall, Bull Devil King flew into a rage. He had lost count of how many sacred grounds and cave abodes they had passed along the way. Every last one had been empty, without a single treasure or stroke of fortune.
Oh, Lion Camel Ridge had a Yin-Yang Two Qi Bottle.
That only made him angrier!
Xiang Yuan said nothing. He swept his gaze over the empty clay lotus pedestals around him, his thoughts wandering as he suspected that Blood Moon Demon Palace was the filming set of Journey to the West. Filming had wrapped, so everyone had collected their boxed lunches and left.
He had traveled at full speed alongside Bull Devil King, finding a scenic landmark every thousand miles. They had passed Jade Wave Pool, Lion Camel Ridge, Eagle Sorrow Ravine, and White Tiger Ridge in succession, each with its own distinct scenery—perfect places to check in.
But they were good for nothing but checking in!
No magical treasures, no opportunities, not even a ghostly shadow.
The instance world map of Blood Moon Demon Palace was far too bizarre. It was as though some great supernatural being had forcibly kneaded together all the little maps related to the eighty-one trials along the westward journey. And there were only territories of the Demon Race—no human kingdoms, no immortal cave abodes, and not even