The Real Training Begins

He swung down.

The bamboo staff struck the golden barrier—crack! It snapped in two.

But the barrier cracked too.

A tiny fissure appeared on its surface.

Everyone fell silent at once.

Yang Jian's third eye flew wide open. He saw a force that shouldn't have been in that bamboo staff—the remnants of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven's magic power, hidden in Zhi Zun Bao's bloodline, had been awakened by a desperate, near-death resolve.

"Again." Zhi Zun Bao lowered his head and looked at the broken staff.

He walked to the mountain gate and picked up another staff—the fifth.

He raised it and struck the same pose—the Sun Wukong Opening Stance.

Inside the golden barrier, Goten watched his back. For a moment, it overlapped with the figure of his father, Sun Wukong.

Zhi Zun Bao swung down. The staff snapped—and the golden barrier shattered completely.

The twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods all groaned at once, their formation thrown into chaos. The Immortal-Trapping Array had been broken.

Zhi Zun Bao tossed aside the broken staff.

He looked down at his hands. Both were bleeding, not from injuries caused by the blows, but from shards of bamboo piercing them. Yet he felt no pain.

"I..." he murmured. "Who the hell am I?"

No one answered him. But a note from the zither sounded again at the mountaintop. Ding—as if in answer.

Yang Jian pulled the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear from the ground.

"Now that the Immortal-Trapping Array is broken, we'll move on to plan two." He leaped into the air, bringing the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear down on Goten with the force of thunder!

Clang!!!

Goten blocked the blow with both arms. The blade struck his forearms with a ringing crash like metal against metal!

Goten staggered back three steps. Yang Jian did the same.

Yang Jian's brow twitched. "You're a lot stronger than you were three days ago."

"I've made pretty good progress these past three days." Goten grinned.

The corner of Yang Jian's mouth lifted slightly—the first thing resembling an expression he'd shown during their entire conversation. "Then let's see where your limits are."

The battle that followed was the most satisfying fight Goten had had since coming to this world.

It wasn't a one-sided slaughter or a crushing victory. It was a true, evenly matched contest.

Yang Jian's Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear came at him like a storm, every strike carrying immense force. Goten met it with his fists, used his Origin Energy sense to anticipate the blade's path, and relied on a Saiyan's speed to dodge and counterattack.

They fought from the mountain gate halfway up the mountain, then to the summit, and back to the gate again. Wherever they went, rocks crumbled and trees toppled. The Grass-Head Gods scattered, afraid to come near.

Zixia stood at the edge of the battlefield, sword in hand, but didn't join in. She knew this was Goten's fight. All she needed to do was watch and make sure he didn't die.

Zhi Zun Bao sat on the threshold of the mountain gate, staring down at his bleeding hands. He wondered whether he was Zhi Zun Bao or Sun Wukong.

But he realized that question didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd just shattered the Jade Emperor's Immortal-Trapping Array. The bandit chief who could only sit around was gone.

Zhu Bajie leaned against the wall, watching the fight. He smacked his lips. "This kid really only trained for three days?"

"What he's learning isn't Immortal Arts." Sha Wujing rarely spoke at length, but this time he did. "He's learning how to become himself."

When Goten and Yang Jian reached their three-hundredth exchange, Goten finally spotted an opening.

Yang Jian hadn't made a mistake. Goten's Origin Energy sense had caught the briefest shift in the flow of Yang Jian's power. In that instant, he "saw" the path of Yang Jian's next attack.

He turned aside to evade the thrust of the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear, closed the distance, and slammed a punch into Yang Jian's chest!

Boom!

Yang Jian flew backward. It was the first time in the fight that he'd taken a direct hit.

He crashed hard into the stone stele in front of the mountain gate—the one engraved with "Lingtai Square Inch Mountain · Slanted Moon Three Star Cave." His back struck it hard enough to crack the stone.

Yang Jian slid to the ground and dropped to one knee, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

But he didn't fall.

He raised his head and looked at Goten with all three eyes. There was an emotion in them that Goten couldn't understand.

"You win."

Yang Jian's voice was calm.

He stood up, wiped the blood from his mouth, and put away the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear. "The Immortal-Trapping Array is broken, and I've lost. By the Jade Emperor's command, if I lost as well, we were to withdraw."

He turned and raised one hand. "Retreat."

The twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods withdrew like a receding tide.

Yang Jian was the last to leave. When he reached the mountain gate, he stopped. Without turning around, he said, "Patriarch Bodhi, you were right. He isn't Sun Wukong."

He paused. "He's the better one."

Yang Jian left. The golden light of heaven faded, and Fangcun Mountain grew peaceful again.

Goten stood before the mountain gate, drenched in sweat and panting hard. But he didn't fall.

He'd done it. Alone, he'd held off twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods and defeated Erlang Shen, Yang Jian.

At Fangcun Mountain, he'd achieved his first true victory since coming to this world.

That night, in the pavilion at the summit of Fangcun Mountain, Patriarch Bodhi sat beside a stone table with a jug of wine before him—not Spirit Mist Tea, but wine. He poured two cups. Goten entered the pavilion and sat across from him.

"Old man, did you know all along that Yang Jian would retreat?"

Patriarch Bodhi picked up his cup but didn't drink. "I didn't know he would retreat. But I knew he hadn't come to kill you."

Goten stared at him. "Then what did he come for?"

"To see whether you were worth betting on."

"Betting on what?"

Patriarch Bodhi fell silent for a moment, then said something Goten didn't quite understand. "Whether the future of the Three Realms should be decided by the Heavenly Court."

He raised his cup. "This one's for you."

Goten picked up the other cup and clinked it against his. Patriarch Bodhi drained his cup in one go. Goten followed suit—and this time, the wine didn't burn his throat.

"After today's battle, the Heavenly Court will return in as little as a month, or as long as three." Patriarch Bodhi set down his cup. "Next time, they won't send just twelve hundred Grass-Head Gods."

Goten nodded. "I know."

"Are you afraid?"

Goten thought for a moment, then answered seriously. "Yes. But I'm more afraid of it all ending before I've done anything."

Patriarch Bodhi looked at him. A faint light glimmered in those aged eyes, eyes that had witnessed too many farewells.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

Patriarch Bodhi stood. In the moonlight, his white hair looked like a silver waterfall.

With his back to Goten, he gazed at the mountains gleaming silver beneath the moon. In the distance lay the ruins of Five Finger Mountain.

"Ready to become the one and only variable in this world."

Goten stood. His golden aura burned softly beneath the moonlight. "I've been waiting a long time for this day."

Patriarch Bodhi smiled. It was the most complicated smile Goten had ever seen: relief, worry, anticipation, and something that looked almost like farewell.

Tomorrow, he would begin his real training.

And the legend of Fangcun Mountain had only just begun...