Goten listened quietly.
"He didn't cause Havoc in Heaven because he hated anyone—he just didn't know how to express himself. Everyone feared him, and everyone wanted to use him. Tathagata wanted him to protect the Pilgrim, the Heavenly Court wanted to give him a job, and the Jade Emperor wanted him as a hired fist. No one ever asked him what he wanted."
"Did you ask him?"
Zixia smiled, but there was a hint of bitterness in it. "I did. He said, 'Old Sun wants someone who can beat him.'"
Goten stared at her. "But isn't he really strong?"
"He is. But he's terribly lonely. Everyone fears him—no one can stand beside him as an equal. He wants a friend, someone who can truly fight alongside him."
Zixia turned to look at Goten. "You said you wanted to become stronger. Why?"
"To protect people. The people around me."
"Sun Wukong, too?"
Goten froze. He had never thought of it that way—not defeating Sun Wukong, not surpassing him, but protecting him. "Does... does he need protection?"
"He's dead," Zixia said softly. "However he died, he's dead. He waited five hundred years for someone who could help him."
Zixia reached out and gently patted Goten on the head. "And now you're here."
That afternoon, Goten went to see Patriarch Bodhi.
"I've already wasted three days." Goten stood before Patriarch Bodhi, his expression serious. "Please start teaching me."
Patriarch Bodhi was making tea. His movements were unhurried, as if he hadn't heard Goten.
"Sir..."
"What's the rush?"
"I'm not in a rush, but the Heavenly Court is. Now that Zixia's awake, I'm worried they'll—"
"The Heavenly Court won't come." Patriarch Bodhi poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward Goten. "Not for the next seven days, at least."
Goten stared at him. "How can you be sure?"
Patriarch Bodhi lifted his teacup and gently blew across the steam. "Because I told them..." He took a sip. "...Lingtai Square Inch Mountain doesn't welcome noise."
Goten fell silent for a moment, then picked up his teacup and imitated him, taking a sip. It was so hot he nearly spat it out.
"Slowly." A hint of a smile touched Patriarch Bodhi's lips.
Goten set down the cup and took a deep breath. Then he noticed something. It wasn't strength, or energy—something like water was flowing slowly inside him.
"What is this...?"
"The tea you drank. Three-hundred-year-old Spirit Mist Tea." Patriarch Bodhi set down his teacup. "Did you think I'd give you ordinary tea?"
Goten looked down at the steaming cup. The watery sensation inside him was flowing faster and faster, growing warmer.
"Now, sit cross-legged and close your eyes."
Goten did as he was told.
"Can you feel that warm current?"
"Yeah."
"That's Origin Energy, the most fundamental power between heaven and earth. All Immortal Arts are built upon it. For now, don't try to use it. Just remember what it feels like."
Goten closed his eyes and focused on the warm current within him. It moved slowly through his meridians like a gentle river. Wherever it passed, that part of his body grew lighter and more relaxed.
"Starting today, come see me every morning for tea. After you finish, go sit beneath the waterfall. You don't need to do anything. Just feel the water flowing over your body."
"So I just sit there?"
"Exactly. When you can sit beneath the waterfall for the time it takes an incense stick to burn without being swept away, you can learn Immortal Arts."
Goten opened his eyes. "How long will that take?"
Patriarch Bodhi stood and walked to the doorway. With his back to Goten, he said, "Sun Wukong took three months."
Goten clenched his fists. Three months—he couldn't wait that long. But then he remembered Zixia's words: And now you're here. He relaxed his fists. "All right. Three months."
Patriarch Bodhi didn't turn around, but Goten heard him chuckle softly.
Evening. Goten sat beneath the waterfall.
Water crashed down from thirty feet above, pounding his shoulders until they ached. He gritted his teeth and didn't move.
The warm current inside him didn't fade beneath the water's force. Instead, it grew even more active.
He closed his eyes and felt the two forces—water from outside and Origin Energy within him—meet, clash, and blend together.
He began to understand. Cultivation in this world wasn't about practicing techniques or meditating. It was about learning to communicate with the world.
The time it took an incense stick to burn had passed. He stood, drenched from head to toe, his eyes shining.
Zixia sat on a distant rock and watched him emerge. She smiled. "How does it feel?"
Goten shook the water from his hair and answered seriously, "I feel like I've only just begun to understand this world."
In the distance, Patriarch Bodhi stood at the mountain gate, watching the two of them.
He gently twirled his horsetail whisk, a barely perceptible smile on his lips. Five hundred years ago, someone had meditated here, drenched from head to toe, and said something much the same.
But after saying it, that person had never returned. He hoped this one would be different.
Tomorrow would be another new day.
And he... had only just begun...
Before you continue