Fangcun Mountain in the Night

"Do you know what the first thing Sun Wukong said when he came to apprentice under me was?"

Goten shook his head.

"He said, 'Old Immortal, teach me the art of immortality.'" Patriarch Bodhi mimicked Sun Wukong's tone from back then, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "At that time, he was afraid of everything—afraid of death, afraid of losing, afraid of being looked down upon."

"And then?"

"Then he learned the Seventy-Two Transformations and the Somersault Cloud, thinking he was invincible under heaven. The day he left—he didn't look back." Patriarch Bodhi's voice was calm. "I thought to myself then—this child will come back. He is still young. Once he has hit enough walls, he will return."

"But he didn't come back."

"No." Patriarch Bodhi's voice dropped lower. "He later wreaked havoc in the Heavenly Palace, was pinned under Five Finger Mountain for five hundred years, went on the pilgrimage, attained Buddhahood, and then died. He never returned once. It wasn't that he didn't want to—it was that he felt he had no face to return."

Goten clenched his fists. "It wasn't that he had no face to return—it was that he didn't know—you were waiting for him the whole time."

Patriarch Bodhi did not answer. The wind blew from the waterfall, ruffling the old man's white hair.

"So you..." Goten said slowly, "waited five hundred years for me—not because you wanted to teach me—but because you wanted to spend your final years protecting someone—so he wouldn't end up like Sun Wukong."

The corners of Patriarch Bodhi's mouth twitched—as if he wanted to deny it—but he said nothing.

"Go," he said. "Today's cultivation is over."

But Goten did not leave. He stood up, looked at Patriarch Bodhi earnestly, and spoke the most serious words he had ever uttered in this world.

"I promise you—I will not end up like him."

Patriarch Bodhi raised his eyes to look at him. In those aged eyes, which had seen too many partings and deaths, there was a thin shimmer of moisture.

"Good," he said.

"Old Master—can I start learning Immortal Art tomorrow?"

Patriarch Bodhi did not answer directly, his gaze drifting past Goten toward the distant horizon.

A faint golden light was gathering there—not a sunrise, not auspicious clouds—but the radiance emitted by Heavenly Soldiers as they assembled. "Tomorrow—don't be in such a hurry to learn Immortal Art."

"Why?"

"Because tomorrow—we have guests coming."

The news was brought back by Sha Wujing—when he went down the mountain to fetch water, he had seen that golden light approaching from the edge of the sky from afar.

He set down his water buckets, walked back up the mountain in silence, and said two words to Zhu Bajie: "They're here."

Zhu Bajie sprang up from his rocking chair: "What's here?"

"The Heavenly Court."

The entire Fangcun Mountain woke up.

Zixia sat on a stone stool in the courtyard, polishing her sword.

The Violet-Azure Treasure Sword cast a faint, eerie glow under the moonlight—she hadn't polished it with such care in a long time.

Tomorrow, it would be unsheathed once again.

Zhi Zun Bao stood in the courtyard, three bamboo poles standing before him—these were the ones he had snapped during his practice over the past three days.

He could now swing a pole from end to end in one breath without letting a single leaf fall.

He hadn't told anyone about this—he didn't even know what it amounted to himself. But he knew it might come in handy tomorrow.

Zhi Zun Bao walked back to his room, closed the door, but did not light a lamp.

He leaned against the door panel for a long time, then looked down at his hands—both palms were covered in blisters. From the friction of the staff.

He had broken three bamboo poles in three days; his palms had torn and healed, torn and healed, until thin calluses had formed.

He didn't know what he was rushing for—but he knew there would be a hard fight tomorrow. He didn't want to hide behind others. He didn't want to let Goten carry the burden alone anymore.

He walked to the window and pushed it open—the moonlight spilled in. On the stone steps at the mountain entrance, Goten and Zixia sat together, talking.

Zhi Zun Bao watched their backs, feeling no particular emotion—he just thought the scene looked quite nice.

He closed the window and lay back on his bed.

The sound of Zhu Bajie's snoring drifted from the next room—that guy could actually sleep at a time like this.

The room beyond that was silent—Sha Wujing was likely still awake; he was sharpening his shoulder pole, the sound of the whetstone rhythmic and faint, like some ancient cadence.

These were his companions now. A boy from another world. A fairy wanted by the Heavenly Court. A pig demon. A water demon. And himself—a bandit leader who didn't even know if he was human.

It sounded like the beginning of some lame joke. But damn it—it was actually real.

Zhi Zun Bao closed his eyes. Tomorrow would come. Whether he was ready or not—tomorrow would come.

Zhu Bajie paced back and forth in his room. "It's over, it's over, it's over—I finally found a peaceful place—and now they're coming to wreck the joint—"

Sha Wujing sat on the threshold, sharpening his shoulder pole without a word. That pole had been with him for many years—tomorrow, it might be used to strike Heavenly Soldiers.

Goten wasn't practicing. He sat on the stone steps at the mountain gate, looking up at the night sky. Zixia walked over and sat down beside him.

"Nervous?"

"A little."

Zixia said nothing. She laid the Violet-Azure Treasure Sword across her knees, letting him watch the purple light flowing along the blade.

"Do you know why the Violet-Azure Treasure Sword pointed at you?"

Goten shook his head.

"Because it never points at someone who would retreat."

Goten looked down at the sword—the violet light on the blade flickered, as if responding to Zixia's words.

"Tomorrow," Zixia said, "fight for the Heavenly Court to see. Fight for the Three Realms to see. Fight for yourself to see."

"Thank you."

"Thank me for what?"

Goten turned to look at her—under the moonlight, Zixia's profile was serene. He wanted to say so much, but when the words reached his lips, only one remained: "Thank you—for catching me—when I arrived."

Zixia did not answer. But the corners of her mouth lifted slightly—that smile was beautiful in the moonlight.

Goten did not tell Zixia one thing—the golden light he had felt just now did not come from afar. It had come from within his own body.

His Saiyan ki and the primordial energy of this world—in that very instant—had achieved a true resonance.

It wasn't a matter of one overpowering the other—it was two power systems reaching a reconciliation within him.

He closed his eyes, feeling the two forces inside him like two rivers merging—one side the golden Saiyan energy, the other the silvery-white primordial energy.

Where the two forces met, he felt an invisible barrier. It was the final seal placed upon him by the laws of this world.

He did not know when he would be able to break through it. But he knew—that day was not far off. They flowed in parallel through his meridians, neither interfering with the other.

He did not know what this meant. But he knew—tomorrow—he would need this power.

The last quiet night on Fangcun Mountain.

Tomorrow—the Heavenly Soldiers would arrive. And he—was already prepared.