Nezha

On the sixteenth day after Yang Jian withdrew his troops, Lingtai Square Inch Mountain returned to its former tranquility. But the peace would not last long.

Outside South Heaven Gate, above the clouds, someone stood at the edge of the cloud bank.

He looked like a child of seven or eight, with a powdered face, a Universe Ring around his neck, a Red Armillary Sash wrapped around his arms, and Wind Fire Wheels beneath his feet.

His gaze rested on the endless mountain range to the west. His expression revealed nothing.

Nezha had been standing there for the time it took an incense stick to burn.

He was thinking about one thing: why had Yang Jian lost? Yang Jian was the most levelheaded person he knew.

He had wielded the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear for three thousand years and had never missed.

But Yang Jian had lost—to a foreign boy who had arrived less than a month ago.

And before leaving, Yang Jian had said, "He's the better one."

Nezha didn't know Sun Goten. But he knew Sun Wukong.

He wanted to know what the person who had prompted Yang Jian to call him "the better one" was really like.

He kicked off with his Wind Fire Wheels and shot westward like a streak of flame.

On the training ground at Fangcun Mountain, Goten was wrestling with four stones.

One was the size of a fist, one the size of a watermelon, one the size of a head, and one new addition from yesterday—the size of a millstone. The four stones floated in a row before him.

He could now keep all four stones in the air at once, though only for a dozen or so breaths.

Ten, nine, eight, seven—the fourth stone began to wobble—five, four, three—sweat beaded on Goten's forehead—two, one—all four stones dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

"Haah... haah..." Goten bent over, hands braced on his knees, but a satisfied smile spread across his face.

Yesterday, he could only levitate three stones. Today, he could manage four. Even he was amazed by how quickly he was improving. He wiped away his sweat and was about to start again when he suddenly sensed an aura.

It wasn't Origin Energy. It was a scorching aura, steeped in killing intent, rapidly approaching from the east.

He straightened and looked toward the eastern horizon.

A streak of flame was flying toward Fangcun Mountain at incredible speed. It wasn't a steady approach like Yang Jian's. It was an unrestrained, head-on charge, brimming with provocation.

"Zixia! Zhi Zun Bao!" Goten called out. He wasn't panicked; he sounded excited, ready for what was coming.

Zixia rushed out of the room. The moment she looked up and saw the streak of flame, her pupils contracted slightly. "Nezha."

The name struck like a stone hitting the water. Goten had never heard it before, but he could tell from Zixia's tone that it carried weight.

"Who's Nezha?"

"The third son of Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li Jing, and a disciple of Taiyi Zhenren. He's the Heavenly Court's youngest and most troublesome vanguard officer." Zixia gripped the Violet-Azure Treasure Sword. "He's faster than I am. Don't underestimate him."

Goten nodded. He stayed where he was, neither retreating nor taking a fighting stance. He simply waited for the streak of flame to land in the open space before him.

The flame touched down and vanished.

A child who looked about seven or eight stood before him, a Universe Ring around his neck and a Red Armillary Sash around his arms. He held no weapon, but his whole being radiated an aura that commanded respect.

Nezha didn't attack right away. He looked Goten up and down.

"You're Sun Goten?"

"You're Nezha?"

"I am."

They stared at each other for three seconds without blinking.

Then Nezha asked something no one expected: "What are you to Sun Wukong?"

Goten froze.

He'd thought Nezha had come to fight, but Nezha had started with a question. Goten thought it over, then answered seriously, "In my world, there's another Sun Wukong. He's my dad. I think the Sun Wukong in this world is a lot like him."

Nezha's eyebrows twitched slightly. The answer clearly wasn't what he'd expected. Goten hadn't said, "He's my master," or "He's my friend." It was an answer Nezha had never considered.

"Have you met Sun Wukong?" Goten asked in return.

Nezha didn't answer.

But his gaze dipped slightly. For an instant, Goten saw an expression entirely different from the killing intent he'd shown before—not anger, but something faint, like regret.

"I have." Nezha's voice grew quieter. "A long time ago."

"Then—"

"I didn't come here to chat." Nezha cut him off. The Red Armillary Sash stirred without a breeze, slowly unfurling in the air. "I came to see, on behalf of the Heavenly Court, what you're capable of."

The pressure of the wind suddenly intensified. The grass within a thirty-foot radius was pressed into a circular depression by the force radiating from Nezha.

Goten didn't retreat. He bent his knees slightly, and golden flames slowly rose around him, colliding head-on with Nezha's immortal power.

A shock wave burst between them, tearing up a layer of turf.

The air across the training ground froze. Zixia tightened her grip on the hilt but didn't intervene, because she knew this wasn't a fight she could join.

This was Goten's fight.