"Let's go," he said. "It's still early. We can walk another two hours."
Su Wanwan gave an "Mm" and followed behind him. After walking for a while, she suddenly asked, "When will the 'next time' they mentioned be?"
Chu Yang did not answer.
Sun Wukong walked at the very front, twirling the Golden Staff in his hand. At the question, his steps paused for a moment before continuing. He did not turn around, but his voice drifted back from ahead, neither loud nor soft, just enough for everyone to hear.
"When it comes."
Su Wanwan waited for a while, but when no more followed, she could not help asking, "That's it?"
"That's it," Sun Wukong said. "I'm not some fortune-teller. How would I know when it'll be? When soldiers come, generals stop them; when water comes, earth dams it. When they come, we fight. If we can't win, we run. If we can't run, we'll deal with it then."
It sounded far too irresponsible, yet Su Wanwan found that it somehow made sense.
She looked back at the road they had taken. Nothing could be seen in the direction of Moon-Perch Ridge anymore. Only the gray-white sky and gray-white alkaline flats blended together, making it impossible to tell where the sky ended and the earth began.
Elsewhere.
The Black-Robed Demon was called Feilian, while Flat-Face was called Quqi. Neither name was particularly renowned in the demon realm, but in this little corner of the Western Regions, merely mentioning them was enough to make many Imps' legs go weak. Feilian had cultivated for a full thirteen hundred years. Quqi had two hundred fewer years on him, but he was more ruthless. Feilian excelled at schemes, Quqi at killing. The two had worked together in the Western Regions for over three hundred