The Call of Five Finger Mountain

The path down the mountain was much harder to walk than the trails on Fangcun Mountain.

Not because the path was bad—it was because Goten stopped every few steps to look back.

Fangcun Mountain's outline grew more distant in the morning mist, but he memorized every path, every tree, every stone's texture—using Origin Energy to remember them, etching them into his very bones.

He wore Sun Wukong's old Taoist robe, with the Violet-Azure Treasure Sword Zixia had given him tucked in his arms.

Zhi Zun Bao walked beside him, carrying the wooden staff carved with the words "Son Goku" on his shoulder.

Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing followed behind—Zhu Bajie carried a large bundle filled with pots, bowls, utensils, and a big sack of rice.

Sha Wujing carried nothing, but walked at the rear to make sure no one fell behind.

Zixia walked on Goten's other side. She wasn't wearing her purple gauze dress—instead, she had changed into a practical outfit, with an empty sword sheath hanging from her waist. They had walked a long way before she finally asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Goten looked ahead at the desolate Gobi Desert, with a stretch of dark mountains in the distance. "I'm wondering what the Golden Cudgel really looks like."

Zixia didn't answer right away. She looked at him—the unreserved trust in his eyes left her silent for a long time. "It's been waiting for this day for a long time, just like you."

The midday sun scorched the gravel of the Gobi Desert until it was scorching hot.

Zhu Bajie was the first to give out. He tossed his bundle onto the ground and collapsed behind a large rock, panting as if he'd just been hauled out of the water. "I can't go on—I can't walk anymore—go on without me—just leave me here to die—"

"You're Marshal Tianpeng, and you can't even handle this little walk?" Zhi Zun Bao prodded his belly with the wooden staff.

"Marshal Tianpeng commanded the navy—not the marching troops!" Zhu Bajie slapped the staff away. "And after I was banished to the mortal realm, this body wasn't the same as my old one. My old body could soar through the clouds. This one gets hungry and tired, and its back hurts!"

Sha Wujing silently poured him a bowl of water. Zhu Bajie drained it in one gulp. "Old Sha—you really are a good person."

Goten didn't rest. He stood on a high rock and gazed at the dark mountains in the distance. His heartbeat was slowly falling into sync with the rhythm of that call. Zixia came up beside him. "How far along is it?"

"It's calling my name—as if it's been calling ever since I was born."

At dusk, they made camp beside an abandoned oasis deep in the Gobi Desert.

Zhu Bajie used his rake to clear a patch of ground, while Sha Wujing gathered dry poplar branches and lit a fire.

Sitting beside the flames, Zhi Zun Bao ran his fingers over the words carved into the staff: "I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven who wreaked havoc in Heaven five hundred years ago." Each time he touched them, his heartbeat quickened.

Ever since they had started setting up camp, Goten had sat with his eyes closed on a rock a little way off, facing Five Finger Mountain. He was forming a connection with the Golden Cudgel—a legacy passed down across five hundred years.

Origin Energy extended from his brow, reaching through the night sky and across the Gobi Desert toward Five Finger Mountain—then he touched it.

A dense, warm presence, as if it had been waiting for far, far too long. The power suppressed by the world's laws was breaking through, mixed with loneliness, anger, and resentment—and the lingering warmth of someone's body.

He opened his eyes and realized that tears had begun to run down his face at some point.

Zixia handed him a bowl of hot water. He took it and held it in his hands without drinking.

"What kind of person was Sun Wukong?"

Zixia thought for a long time. "He was the best fighter I've ever known—and also the worst at expressing himself. He'd never say, 'I care about you,' but when you were in danger, he'd be the first to stand in front of you."

Zhi Zun Bao listened from nearby, tightening his grip on the wooden staff.

"Did he have any regrets?"

Zixia was silent for a long time. "Yes. His greatest regret was not having the chance to say a proper goodbye to someone."

The fire crackled. After finishing the water in his bowl, Goten stood up. "Tomorrow—I'll be the first to reach Five Finger Mountain."

That night, Goten lay with his arms behind his head, gazing at the stars. The Milky Way stretched across the sky like a glowing river. He missed home.

Not because he was afraid—but because for the first time, he had a clear goal. Find the Golden Cudgel. Awaken a whole new power within himself. Then use it to finish something Sun Wukong had left undone.

Zhi Zun Bao couldn't sleep either. He kept thinking about what Zixia had said: "His greatest regret was not having the chance to say a proper goodbye to someone."

That someone had been his previous life. The reincarnation of Sun Wukong had sat by his bedside all night—that should have counted as a goodbye—but it hadn't been enough.

If he were in Sun Wukong's place, he'd definitely say those three words.

Zixia couldn't sleep either.

She sat a little way from the fire, gazing at the dark mountains in the distance. The last time she had seen Sun Wukong, five hundred years ago, he had stood beneath that mountain, the Golden Cudgel on his shoulder, and looked back at her.

That glance had been brief—not even as long as a single breath. She had thought he would come back—but he hadn't. Five hundred years had passed, and now she was back here.

From far away, in the direction of Five Finger Mountain, came a deep, low hum.

It wasn't the wind—it was the Golden Cudgel letting out a sigh in the night.

Goten heard it. He opened his eyes in the darkness, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. Soon.

Zhu Bajie rolled over and mumbled something in his sleep. Sha Wujing opened one eye, glanced at him, then closed it again.

Zhi Zun Bao was still awake. He sat up and added a dry branch to the fire. Its glow illuminated the wooden staff in his hand and the blurred words carved into it.

He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew he wouldn't turn back—it was the firmest choice he had ever made.

In the night wind, Goten caught an unfamiliar scent—not demonic, not immortal, but the scent of someone standing in the distance, watching them.

He didn't say anything, but he knew someone had been following them ever since they left Fangcun Mountain.

He didn't tell anyone because he could sense that the person's presence held no hostility. It was curiosity—like someone who wanted to confirm something.

The night wind carried that deep, low hum over to them again.

The Golden Cudgel was urging him on. He closed his eyes and said to it in his heart, I know. I'll be there tomorrow.

Then he rolled over and counted the stars—one, two, three. Tomorrow, he would stand before Five Finger Mountain—where Sun Wukong had been trapped for five hundred years.

A shooting star streaked across the night sky, trailing a long tail, like someone had drawn a question mark in the heavens.

Zhi Zun Bao lay beside the fire, the wooden staff across his chest.

He thought about tomorrow—about Five Finger Mountain, the Golden Cudgel, and Sun Wukong, whom he had never met but somehow felt he already knew.

He wasn't sure if he could face that mountain—but he was sure he wouldn't run away.

Zhu Bajie's snoring stopped. He changed position, and it started up again.

Sha Wujing never fully fell asleep. The habits he had developed at the Flowing Sand River kept him alert even in his sleep.

Zixia sat some distance away, her back like a statue in the moonlight. She had held that pose for a long time. No one knew whether she was lost in thought or listening to the wind.

And the person following them never came any closer.

He only watched the campfire from afar, as if confirming that the boy had really come.