Ao Run followed Wukong to the place where Little White Dragon had vanished.
Xuanzang and the others came along as well, while A-Hu stayed in the woods to guard the luggage.
The Fire-Tipped Spear still stood alone in the scorched earth. Sha Wujing had put away Little White Dragon's Silver Spear.
Ao Run crouched at the edge of the great pit Wukong had smashed into the ground with his cudgel.
Ripples of water rose around him again. His hands formed seals without pause, his eyes closed in concentration. Clearly, he was trying another secret art.
Yet after a long while, the ripples gradually faded.
Ao Run opened his eyes, his expression growing grimmer. That had failed too, so he began trying other methods again.
Time slipped by, until roughly half a day had passed.
The shrimp soldiers and crab generals sent out to search the mountain returned one after another, dusty-faced and dejected.
"Report-nothing to the south!"
"Report-nothing to the north!"
"Report-we searched the entire west side. Nothing!"
"Report-nothing to the east either!"
The shrimp soldiers and crab generals came and went with their reports, and every report darkened Ao Run's expression another shade.
Finally, the general leading them dropped to one knee and reported in a trembling voice:
"Your Majesty, we searched every place where anyone could hide... There is no trace of the Third Prince."
Half a day had passed, and tens of thousands of West Sea troops had found nothing at all.
Ao Run closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
His chest heaved several times as he forcibly pressed the fury threatening to break loose back down inside him.
Before long, wisps of blue smoke emerged from cracks in the rocks and took the forms of several ragged mountain gods and earth gods, who