Patriarch Bodhi's Trial

"O... Old sir... what was that you just used?"

"Immortal arts."

"Immortal arts..." Goten repeated the term, murmuring to himself.

This was the first time since arriving in this world that he had seen true immortal arts with his own eyes.

It wasn't demonic energy, nor was it magical power—it was a purer, more ancient force. His heart began to race.

"Can I learn it?"

Patriarch Bodhi glanced at him. Those aged, bright eyes seemed capable of peering straight into Goten's soul. "What would you learn it for?"

"I—" Goten wanted to say "to become stronger," but he suddenly remembered the sweeping from earlier, and the words died on his lips.

He thought about it. He thought about it very seriously.

"I want to protect people," he said.

Patriarch Bodhi's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Protect whom?"

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

Patriarch Bodhi was silent for a moment. The golden light in the great hall flowed slowly between them. Then, he spoke:

"Prove you are worthy first."

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

Goten stood before the mountain gate, holding a bamboo broom, completely bewildered.

"Sweep the steps?"

"Correct."

"I came here to learn immortal arts—not to be a janitor—"

Patriarch Bodhi did not answer. He turned and walked back into the cave.

Goten tried to chase after him—but the moment he took a step, an invisible force pinned him to the spot.

It wasn't a physical force. Nothing was holding him back—it was as if his body had suddenly stopped obeying him.

His foot felt as though it had taken root in the ground; he couldn't lift it.

Yet, he could move everything else—he looked down and saw his hands could move freely, his body was mobile—only that one foot he had tried to step forward with was held fast by something.

Goten's eyes widened. Was this an immortal art?

No incantations, no hand gestures, nothing at all—just a single thought—and his body had been rendered immobile.

He recalled the Instant Transmission from the Dragon Ball World—a technique that required sensing the other person's ki to use. But this—this required no preparation whatsoever.

He looked down at the broom in his hand. He was silent for three seconds. Then, he began to sweep the steps.

Zhi Zun Bao sat on a rock by the gate, watching him sweep, and couldn't help but laugh. "I thought you were going to throw a tantrum."

"Shut up."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, a mighty Saiyan—actually sweeping floors here—"

"Say one more word and I'll hit you with this broom."

"Go ahead and hit me, Patriarch Bodhi is definitely watching."

The broom in Goten's hand froze in mid-air.

He gritted his teeth, pulled his hand back, and lowered his head to continue sweeping. Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing had been assigned to a side room.

Zhu Bajie sprawled out on the heated brick bed, letting out a heartfelt sigh: "This is what you call living—a roof, a bed, and food—"

Sha Wujing said nothing, silently beginning to unpack the luggage for the five of them, taking the items out one by one and setting them in order.

Zhi Zun Bao did not enter the room. He stood in the courtyard, looking at the entrance of Three Star Cave, his gaze somewhat dazed. He always felt as though he had been here before. Not just a casual visit—it was the kind of familiarity that was carved into his very bones.

Every brick, every tile, every blade of grass—he could predict exactly where the next brick would be and what the next tree would look like. Yet, he was certain this was his first time here.

"Hey—Zhi Zun Bao—" Goten's voice drifted over from the mountain gate. "Stop daydreaming! Come help me sweep! I won't finish these three hundred steps by nightfall if I do it alone!"

Zhi Zun Bao snapped out of it, smiled, and walked over to pick up another broom. "You owe me a meal."

"When Sister Zixia wakes up, let her cook."

"She knows how to cook?"

"I don't know," Goten shook his head honestly, "but she glows."

"What good is glowing?"

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

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

Evening. The three hundred steps were finally finished.

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

It wasn't physical exhaustion—it was mental. He was used to solving problems through combat—if there was an enemy, he fought; if there wasn't, he waited to fight. But now, Patriarch Bodhi wouldn't allow him to use any power at all.

The seal remained unbroken, yet he could not actively touch it—he had to sweep floors, carry water, and chop wood just like an ordinary person.

"This is the final task for today." Patriarch Bodhi appeared before him without a sound, holding a bowl of clear water. "Take this bowl of water to the pavilion at the peak. Not a single drop may be spilled."

Goten sat up, took the bowl, and examined it—it was a plain, unremarkable bowl of water. The bowl was made of coarse pottery with a small chip on the rim. The water was so clear that the fine lines at the bottom of the bowl were visible.

"Just this?"

"Just this."

Goten stood up and began walking up the mountain with the bowl. It was simple. He was a Saiyan, after all—his body control was top-tier. If even an ordinary person could walk a few steps without spilling water, how could he possibly fail?

Ten steps—not a drop spilled. Fifty steps—steady as a mountain.

Then, his footsteps faltered.

He felt it—someone was watching him.

It wasn't from behind. It was from every direction—every tree, every rock, and every leaf in the mountain forest was watching him. It was no illusion.

Something was truly gazing at him. It wasn't hostility—it was an indescribable, heavy gaze.

His heartbeat began to accelerate. His breathing grew unsteady. The water in the bowl began to ripple slightly.

"Hold it steady." Patriarch Bodhi's voice drifted from afar, yet it sounded as if it were ringing out from very close by. "Carrying the water is not the goal—the goal is for you to restrain your own heart."

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

His Saiyan combat instincts kept him on high alert at all times. But there was no threat here. No enemies. No battle. There was only this mountain—and its gaze.