The Road West

The desert was as hot as an oven by day and as cold as an ice cellar by night.

Goten carried Zixia on his back, walking step by step across the boundless Gobi Desert.

His footprints left deep impressions in the sand—not because of his weight, but because every step he took was steady.

He wanted to ensure Zixia, on his back, wouldn't feel a single jolt.

Zhi Zun Bao walked beside him, carrying a wooden stick over his shoulder—not as a weapon, but to probe the path ahead.

He held a piece of dry ration in his other hand, took a bite, and frowned.

"This stuff is harder than a rock."

"That's military rations," Zhu Bajie panted as he followed behind. "Back when I was Marshal Tianpeng, the Heavenly Soldiers ate this—it can last a hundred years without spoiling."

"A hundred years? Then what we're eating right now is—"

"Correct, it was probably made back in your grandfather's generation."

Zhi Zun Bao was silent for three seconds, then tossed the ration away.

"I'd rather starve to death."

"Don't throw it away, Chief—" Zhu Bajie picked it up with a pained expression, brushing off the dust. "By tomorrow, we might not even have this to eat!"

Sha Wujing walked at the very back, carrying the luggage for all three, silent and steady-paced.

He was the quietest of the five—from the moment they set out until now, he had spoken a total of three sentences. The first was "Mm," the second was "Okay," and the third was "There's water."

Goten listened to their bickering, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

Even though Zixia was still unconscious.

Even though the road ahead was unknown.

Even though the Heavenly Court was still hunting them.

At least—he was not alone.

"Hey, kid," Zhi Zun Bao walked up to Goten's side. "Are you tired? Want me to carry her for a while?"

Goten shook his head. "I'm fine. A Saiyan's stamina is much better than an ordinary person's."

"Saiyan..." Zhi Zun Bao chewed on the word. "You keep saying that, but what exactly is a Saiyan?"

Goten thought for a moment.

"In our world, Saiyans are a warrior race. We are born with a love for battle; we grow stronger the more we fight, and our combat power skyrockets after recovering from the brink of death. Our hair is basically always black, and we have tails—though mine was cut off when I was born."

"Grow stronger the more you fight?" Zhi Zun Bao raised an eyebrow. "So getting beaten up is a good thing?"

"It's not exactly a 'good thing'... but it does make you stronger." Goten smiled. "My father, Sun Wukong, has been beaten half to death countless times, and every time, he came back stronger."

"Your father—Sun Wukong—who has he been beaten by?"

Goten's expression turned serious.

"Many people. Frieza, Cell, Buu... each one was stronger than him, and each one wanted to kill him. But he never gave up."

Zhi Zun Bao fell silent for a moment.

"And you? Are you like your father?"

Goten thought about it and answered earnestly, "I hope I can be like him—no matter what I encounter, I will never give up."

Zhi Zun Bao looked at Goten's profile.

This boy—who was clearly only twelve or thirteen years old—had been carrying someone for two full days, never once complaining of fatigue, never once saying, "I can't go on."

He claimed it was because of "a Saiyan's stamina."

But Zhi Zun Bao knew—it was his heart.

"Hey, Goten."

"Yeah?"

"Once we reach that Fangcun Mountain place—and Zixia is cured—what do you plan to do?"

Goten didn't answer immediately.

He looked up at the boundless desert ahead and remained silent for a long time.

"Get stronger."

"And then?"

"And then—" Goten clenched his fists, "return to my own world."

Zhi Zun Bao was stunned for a moment.

He had known this answer all along.

But hearing it with his own ears still left him with an indescribable feeling.

"Then... will you ever come back?"

Goten looked back at him and smiled.

"I will. I'll bring my dad along when the time comes."

"Your dad—Sun Wukong—" Zhi Zun Bao's mouth twitched, "that strongest warrior in the universe?"

"Mm. I'll let you meet him then—" Goten's smile grew even brighter, "you'll definitely like him. You two—are very much alike."

Zhi Zun Bao froze.

"He and I—are alike?"

Goten did not answer.

He looked at the path ahead and quickened his pace.

By the evening of the third day, they arrived at an abandoned temple.

The temple was in ruins; half the roof had collapsed, and the walls were covered in vines and moss.

The plaque on the main gate hung crookedly, its characters long since blurred.

But the moment Goten stepped into the temple, he sensed a strange aura.

It wasn't demonic energy, nor was it celestial energy—it was—

"The aura of Buddhism." Zhu Bajie spoke up suddenly, his expression turning somewhat complex, "This temple—it used to be a great place of practice."

Zhi Zun Bao asked curiously, "How do you know?"

Zhu Bajie fell silent for a moment, then said softly, "When I was traveling to fetch the scriptures with Tang Seng—I entered many temples just like this one."

The air went quiet for a heartbeat.

Zhu Bajie—that gluttonous and lazy Zhu Bajie—had actually brought up a past he never spoke of.

Zhi Zun Bao did not press him. He simply patted Zhu Bajie on the shoulder and walked into the temple.

The interior of the temple was much larger than it appeared from the outside.

In the main hall stood a broken Buddha statue—only half of its body remained, and its head was nowhere to be found.

The walls were covered in murals; although they were mottled and faded, some of the images could still be made out.

Goten gently laid Zixia down on a relatively clean patch of ground and took off his jacket to cover her.

Her breathing had steadied somewhat, but her face remained pale.