The scroll drifted down from midair.
Mysterious black immortal qi roiled outward in every direction.
The scroll disintegrated into a sky full of shattered light.
Two figures stepped out of the fragments of light and landed steadily on the white jade platform.
Sha Wujing stood bare-chested, his clothes torn and his appearance somewhat disheveled. The two mountain patterns on his chest shone with a faint, eerie glow.
Little White Dragon stood beside him, holding his spear in one hand.
Though his silver armor was damaged in many places and blood stained his body, his expression remained as cool as ever. He was strikingly handsome indeed.
Wukong and Bajie leaped down from the stands and strode onto the arena.
Bajie widened his small eyes and hurried forward. He tugged at Sha Wujing's arm, felt his chest, and looked him up and down several times before finally letting out a long breath.
Then he slapped Sha Wujing on the forehead.
"You great oaf!"
"What has your second senior brother always taught you?"
"Did you have to give us such a fright? How many lives do you think you have?"
As he spoke, he stole a glance toward Xuanzang, leaned close to Sha Wujing's ear, and lowered his voice.
"I told you not to copy everything Master does, but you wouldn't listen."
"Who is he? Who are you?"
"He can court death and come out fine. If you court death, will the Heavenly Dao protect you?"
Before his words had fully faded, his expression changed again, and he clicked his tongue in wonder.
"Still, come to think of it, Sha, did you turn disaster into good fortune?"
"Good heavens. Tsk, tsk. After what you've done, who'll dare fight you now?"
Embarrassed by his words, Sha Wujing scratched the back of his head and