At the break of dawn, Clara Heart slowly opened her eyes and gazed up at the dim, yellowish sky. Instantly, a jolt of alarm shot through her, and she sat up straight.
Only when she saw Nathan Young still standing motionless in the distance did she finally breathe a small sigh of relief.
As soon as she relaxed, pain flared from the wound on her shoulder. Under the sharp agony, her face grew even paler, and beads of sweat the size of pearls broke out on her forehead.
"Are you alright?" Nathan Young glanced at her coolly and said, "Besides the external wounds, you have internal injuries too. You won't be healing anytime soon. Why not return to the Heavenly Court and recover?"
"I'm fine."
"Anyway, that Monkey King hasn't stirred up any trouble lately. It's mostly just a matter of appearances. Go back and rest in Heaven for a while..."
"I said I'm fine!" Clara's voice suddenly rose, almost shouting, and she was immediately seized by a fit of coughing.
Nathan Young watched her quietly, saying nothing.
A gentle breeze brushed the ends of Clara's hair.
After a moment, Clara steadied herself, clutching her shoulder as she slowly stood up. She gazed out at the mist-shrouded expanse of Blossom Mountain, feeling a wave of confusion.
"They tried eight night raids last night. I chased them off every time."
"Last night?"
"At dawn, they'd come out and shout a few times. The moment I made a move, they'd slip back into the caves. With you here, I couldn't chase them in either." Nathan Young looked toward the rising sun and said, "Normally, as long as I don't enter the caves, they can't do anything to me. But with you injured, this is really dangerous. If anything happens, I won't be able to answer to Lord Lao."
Clara wiped the cold sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and whispered, "If the old man dared let me come, then I'm sure nothing will happen."
Nathan Young remained standing tall, bracing himself on the Flame Spear like a sentinel, quietly stealing a glance at Clara. "So... what do we do next?"
"I don't know either." Clara pulled out the Pearl from her sleeve, holding it up to the morning sunlight, then breathed warm air on it and wiped it repeatedly with her sleeve. After a long moment, she murmured, "Let's look around. There must be something here they want me to find."
Nathan Young looked at Clara and couldn't help but sigh in resignation.
This must be the most down-and-out moment of Clara's life. But what was she holding on to? Was there something here she absolutely had to find?
For someone as privileged and proud as her—a haughty young noble—why risk her life in such a barren, desolate place?
Nathan Young truly couldn't understand.
The caves were off-limits, and the demons were now wary. Asking questions was impossible—finding anyone would be just as hopeless.
With no other options, Clara wandered about with the Pearl in hand, letting the morning light guide her as she watched, bit by bit, completely absorbed.
Scenes inside the Pearl spun by at dizzying speed.
She saw hordes of demons, ragged like refugees, clutching blood-stained blades as they poured in from all directions, lining up in orderly queues to register at the gates of a grand city-state.
She saw demons of every shape and age crammed into classrooms, listening to teachers half their size instructing them in reading and writing.
She saw the Monkey King leading his armies in fierce battle against the Celestial Fleet of the Milky Way, the fight so intense that the sky darkened and rivers of blood flowed.
She saw a gentle young woman in purple robes standing beside the Monkey King, and saw him call out to her.
Startled, Clara quickly lowered the Pearl, blinking in surprise.
The Pearl showed only images, no sound—but Clara knew how to read lips.
"He just called her... Belle?"
But when Clara picked up the Pearl again, she couldn't find that scene no matter how she tried.
Blossom Mountain was simply too vast, with countless demons and endless changes over the centuries. Clara didn't even know the original layout of this place. To find that woman again would be like searching for a needle in the sea.
Besides, she still hadn't mastered how to use the Pearl.
After struggling all day, perhaps because her wounds had worsened, or because she hadn't found that critical clue, or maybe because her two masters' cryptic hints weighed on her, Clara felt her spirits sinking.
She sat cross-legged beside a slanted stone pillar, dazed and lost in thought.
"What's wrong? If you're not going to keep searching, just rest for a while."
Clara slowly shook her head.
Nathan Young shrugged helplessly, then leapt onto a broad rock overlooking the area, silently resuming his role as her bodyguard.
......
Meanwhile, on the Western Ox Continent...
The party set out early, trekking mountain roads all day without incident. As night fell, they camped beside a small stream, lighting a fire under the open sky.
No sooner had they stopped than Thomas Tripitaka was busy again, writing and copying without a moment's rest.
Monkey was so bored he nearly nodded off.
In terms of sheer strength, Monkey far surpassed Thomas. But for him, the greatest torment of this westward journey was having nothing to do.
For Thomas, the journey was a test of faith and reason—the greatest trial of his life. Even before any battle, he was endlessly busy. Even riding on horseback, he always seemed deep in thought.
For Monkey, though, the journey west was just a bodyguard job. If someone picked a fight, he had something to do; if not, he could only stare blankly into space.
Back when he was trapped under Five Elements Mountain, things were even duller, with even less to do. But at least he learned to sleep—and when he slept, he could dream, and the boredom faded. Now, even that was denied him.
Sometimes, Monkey even wished trouble would come every day—immortal, demon, or Buddha, it didn't matter. At least then he wouldn't be left yawning and staring at the scenery.
He stared at the stream for ages, counting fish as they leapt. By the time the twenty-fifth one jumped, Monkey couldn't stand it anymore—he got up and paced, letting the cool breeze wash over his face.
Looking back, he saw Thomas still busy with his endless tasks, Barry Bear lost in thought, Adrian the Little White Dragon snoring away, and Marshal Silver sitting upright by the fire, occasionally adding wood.
The firelight flickered across Marshal Silver's face, making him look almost wooden, lost in his own thoughts.
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After pondering for a while, Monkey decided he needed something to do.
Talk to Adrian the Little White Dragon?
Forget it. Talking to him only leads to stories about his wife, and Monkey gets a headache just thinking about that topic.
Chat with Marshal Silver?
That... might work, but Monkey didn't feel like it.
Talk to Barry Bear?
That guy was even more withdrawn than Monkey after six hundred and fifty years under Five Elements Mountain—utterly pointless.
Should he try chatting with the horse?