Fangcun Mountain's mornings were always blanketed in mist first, then slowly revealed inch by inch by the sunlight.
Dewdrops clung to the grass along the mountain path, and the air was rich with the scents of earth and plants.
Two figures ran through the mist—one carrying twelve stones, the other gripping a bamboo staff.
Goten and Zhi Zun Bao had been running together like this for more than twenty days.
They had both changed, going from gasping under the strain at first to keeping a steady pace now.
Goten's steps were steadier than before. With each footfall, Origin Energy flowed naturally into his soles, channeling the impact into the ground so that he ran almost without a sound.
Zhi Zun Bao was on his seventh bamboo staff. He had broken the first six during training, but this one had lasted nearly ten days. He had learned to hold back his strength and to control it instead of venting it.
By the fifth lap, Zhi Zun Bao spoke first—not about running, but about the battle two days ago.
"Goten, do you think I can get stronger too?"
Goten slowed down, but didn't answer directly. "First, tell me why you want to get stronger."
"I don't want to hold everyone back."
"Anything else?"
Zhi Zun Bao fell silent for a moment. His fingers tightened slightly around the bamboo staff. "I want to know—if I could fight too, would I be more like him?"
Goten stopped. Zhi Zun Bao stopped too and turned to look at him.
"You're not like him. You're yourself." Goten's tone was calm, without any effort to encourage him. He was simply stating a fact he believed in. "You don't need to become anyone else. You just need to be the best version of yourself."
Zhi Zun Bao didn't answer. But his fingers loosened a little around the bamboo staff.
"And besides..." Goten grinned. "You're already amazing. You broke the Immortal-Trapping Array with a bamboo staff. I couldn't have done that."
Zhi Zun Bao froze for a moment, then couldn't help laughing.
It was a kind of laugh he had rarely shown since arriving at Fangcun Mountain—not a bitter laugh, but a genuine one, as if to say, "I guess so."
"Come on. Five more laps." Goten turned and started running again.
Zhi Zun Bao followed his pace. The mist gradually dissipated behind them.
After breakfast, Patriarch Bodhi summoned Zhi Zun Bao deep into the cave.
He had never been this far inside before. The cave's entrance led to a main hall and side rooms, and beyond them ran a narrow passage.
After about the time it took to burn a stick of incense, the passage suddenly widened, revealing a stone chamber.
The chamber was small, about two zhang square.
Fine cracks covered the walls—not from natural weathering, but from repeated washes of Origin Energy.
Five hundred years ago, Sun Wukong had spent countless nights here, carving his insights into the walls after finishing his training.
Back then, he had been a mere boy, afraid of everything—afraid he wouldn't learn, afraid his master wouldn't accept him, afraid he wasn't strong enough. But he had never stopped.
Every carved line was proof that he had struggled and endured. The stone walls were covered in writing—not scriptures or runes, but one person's training notes.
The handwriting was messy, and some parts had been crossed out, as if he had been thinking as he wrote. Zhi Zun Bao's gaze swept over the words, and he stopped in his tracks.
Because he recognized the handwriting.
Although he had never seen Sun Wukong's handwriting before, he just knew these were Sun Wukong's carvings.
Every stroke carried a familiar feeling he couldn't explain—a legacy spanning five hundred years, something a master had taught his disciple, left behind in the stone, as if he had seen it countless times in his dreams.
"These are what he left behind when he was learning his art." Patriarch Bodhi stood behind him, his voice calm. "He lived here for three months while learning the Seventy-Two Transformations. Every night, he came back and wrote down his thoughts on the day's training."
Zhi Zun Bao reached out and touched the deepest groove in the wall with his fingertip. One line was carved there: "The final transformation of the Seventy-Two Transformations—no matter how many times you change, being yourself is best."
He froze, then let out a laugh. It wasn't loud, but it echoed through the empty stone chamber.
"That sounds like something he'd say."
Patriarch Bodhi didn't respond.
He went to the opposite wall, where a raised stone resembled a meditation cushion.
He sat down. Zhi Zun Bao sat across from him. Silence settled between them.
"When Yang Jian came, I told you that you were Sun Wukong's reincarnation," Patriarch Bodhi said quietly.
Zhi Zun Bao looked up.
"As I said before, you are Sun Wukong's reincarnation. But before that, you had another life. In that life, you were the last person Sun Wukong met before setting out to fetch the scriptures."
Before you continue