The gods had been defeated, and Erlang had been wounded.
The Scorpion Demon had stung Erlang on the leg. Wukong said he would recover in a day, yet a day later, Erlang was still in such pain that he could barely move.
The gods came to examine him. Even those versed in medicine could not identify the root of his ailment, saying only that the Scorpion Demon's venom was too potent for them to treat.
All he could do was rest.
Heavenly King Li, on the other hand, had been beaten until he vomited three pints of blood and then suffered a backlash, yet he managed to recover somewhat before Erlang did. Despite his injuries, he met with the gods to discuss how to capture the demons.
They called it a discussion, but it amounted to nothing more than asking Heaven for troops again.
The gods were all familiar with this by now.
The crucial question was how many troops to request.
With Erlang wounded and ill, this was difficult to put into words.
They did not even know whether his injury counted as minor or serious.
According to Wukong, Erlang merely needed a few days of quiet rest and would recover before long.
Yet more than ten days passed without any improvement. Erlang remained in unrelenting pain, his entire body weak and aching, unable to get out of bed.
Outside the tent, Heavenly King Li straightened his robes and headdress, stirred his blood and vital energy to make his somewhat weakened body look more vigorous, then entered.
On the bed inside, Erlang's face was the color of gold paper, and he could not get up.
Heavenly King Li approached the bed. "True Lord, are you feeling any better?"
"Thank you for your concern, Heavenly King," Erlang said weakly. "I