Patriarch Bodhi's Test

"Ol... old sir... what was that you just used?"

"Immortal Art."

"Immortal Art..." Goten murmured, repeating the words.

It was the first time since arriving in this world that he had seen real Immortal Art with his own eyes.

It wasn't demonic energy or magical power—it was something purer, more ancient. His heart began to race.

"Can I learn it?"

Patriarch Bodhi glanced at him. His old but bright eyes seemed able to see straight through Goten's soul. "What would you learn it for?"

"I—" Goten had wanted to say "to get stronger," but then he thought of what had just happened while sweeping. The words caught in his throat.

He thought about it. Really thought about it.

"I want to protect people," he said.

Patriarch Bodhi's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Who do you want to protect?"

"Big Sister Zixia. Zhi Zun Bao. Zhu Bajie. Sha Wujing." Goten counted them off one by one, then lifted his head. "Everyone I need to protect."

Patriarch Bodhi fell silent for a while. Golden light drifted slowly between them in the hall. Then he said, "Prove you're worthy first."

"Go sweep the three hundred steps in front of the mountain gate."

Goten stood in front of the mountain gate with a bamboo broom in his hand, completely dazed.

"Sweep the steps?"

"That's right."

"I came here to learn Immortal Art—not to be a janitor—"

Patriarch Bodhi didn't answer. He turned and walked back into the cave.

Goten tried to follow him, but the moment he took a step, an invisible force held him in place.

It wasn't physical. Nothing was grabbing him—his body had simply stopped obeying him.

His foot seemed rooted to the ground; he couldn't lift it.

But the rest of him could move freely. He looked down. His hands moved without a problem, and he could move his body—only the foot he'd tried to step with was held down by something.

Goten's eyes widened. Was this Immortal Art?

No incantation, no gestures, nothing at all—just a thought, and his body had stopped obeying him.

He thought of Instant Transmission in the Dragon Ball World. That technique required sensing someone else's ki to use. But this—this didn't require any preparation at all.

He looked down at the broom in his hand. He stood silently for three seconds, then began sweeping the steps.

Zhi Zun Bao sat on a rock by the mountain gate, watching him sweep. He couldn't help laughing. "I thought you were going to make a scene."

"Shut up."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. A mighty Saiyan—sweeping the floor here—"

"Say that again and I'll hit you with the broom."

"Go ahead. Patriarch Bodhi can definitely see us anyway."

The broom in Goten's hand froze in midair.

He gritted his teeth, lowered the broom, and continued sweeping. Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing had been sent to the side room.

Zhu Bajie sprawled on the kang and sighed from the bottom of his heart. "Now this is the life—there's a roof, a bed, and food—"

Sha Wujing said nothing. He quietly began taking the luggage off the backs of all five of them, laying out the things one by one.

Zhi Zun Bao didn't go inside. He stood in the courtyard, looking at the entrance to Three Star Cave, his gaze somewhat distant. He had the strange feeling he'd been here before. Not in the ordinary sense—there was a familiarity here that felt carved into his bones.

Every brick and tile, every blade of grass and tree, felt familiar. He could predict where the next brick would be, what the next tree would look like. Yet this was clearly his first time here.

"Hey—Zhi Zun Bao!" Goten called from the mountain gate. "Stop daydreaming and come help me sweep! I'll be at it until dark if I have to do all three hundred steps alone!"

Zhi Zun Bao came back to himself, smiled, and walked over to pick up another broom. "You owe me a meal."

"When Big Sister Zixia wakes up, I'll ask her to make it."

"She knows how to cook?"

"No idea." Goten shook his head honestly. "But she glows."

"What good is glowing?"

"At least we won't need a lamp to eat."

Zhi Zun Bao froze for a second, then laughed so hard he nearly dropped his broom.

Evening came. They finally finished sweeping all three hundred steps.

Goten tossed the broom onto the ground and collapsed onto the stone steps in front of the mountain gate.

He wasn't physically tired—he was mentally exhausted. He was used to solving problems through fighting. If there was an enemy, he fought; if there wasn't, he waited for one. But now Patriarch Bodhi wouldn't let him use any of his power.

The Seal hadn't been undone, but he couldn't actively touch it either. He had to sweep, carry water, and chop wood like an ordinary person.

"This is your last task for today." Patriarch Bodhi appeared in front of him without a sound, holding a bowl of clear water. "Carry this bowl of water to the pavilion at the top of the mountain. Don't spill a single drop."

Goten sat up and took the bowl, examining it. It was just ordinary clear water in a coarse pottery bowl. There was a tiny chip in the rim. The water was so clear he could see the fine patterns on the bottom.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Goten stood and started up the mountain, carrying the bowl. It was easy. He was a Saiyan, after all, with top-tier control over his body. Even an ordinary person could walk a few steps without spilling water. How could he possibly fail?

Ten steps—he hadn't spilled a drop. Fifty steps—he was as steady as a rock.

Then his steps came to a halt.

He sensed it—someone was watching him.

Not from behind. From every direction. Every tree, every stone, every leaf in the forest was watching him. It wasn't his imagination.

Something really was watching him. It wasn't hostile—it was a weighty gaze he couldn't describe.

His heart began to race. His breathing grew uneven. The water in the bowl began to tremble slightly.

"Keep your composure." Patriarch Bodhi's voice came from far away, yet seemed close by. "Carrying water isn't the point. The point is to steady your heart."

Goten closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried not to pay attention to those gazes, but he couldn't do it.

A Saiyan's instinct for battle kept him constantly on guard. But there was no threat here. No enemy. No fight. Only this mountain—and its gaze.