Inside the cave, Clara Heart silently wrote with her brush.
The others watched quietly as time slowly passed.
Never in her life had she been doubted like this. To be asked to prove her own identity—how absurd! The more she wrote, the angrier she grew; by the end, her face was visibly sour.
She wrote for a full half an hour before finally transcribing the entire thousand-character formula from memory.
Hurriedly rolling up the finished formula, she tossed it toward Daisy Grass, who caught it with ease.
Unrolling the formula, Daisy Grass examined it closely by firelight.
Beside her, Little Seven craned his neck to get a better look.
After a while, Little Seven whispered, "Something seems off. Maybe she really is a fake."
"No, hers is the correct one." Daisy Grass shook her head, rolled up the formula, and said calmly, "Her Holiness the Holy Mother revised our version several times. I saw the original while managing the storeroom—this is the true, original cultivation method of Crescent Star Cave."
Clara Heart blinked and looked up. "So now that you know it’s real, can you lift the restrictions?"
"No." Daisy Grass answered without hesitation.
"Why not!" Clara Heart couldn’t contain her anger, snapping, "You’ve already confirmed it—what more do you want me to prove?"
Daisy Grass met Clara’s gaze and smiled faintly. To Clara, that smile was like oil on fire.
At that moment, Clara was nearly driven mad with rage. But trapped by the restriction, a fish on the chopping block, she couldn’t lash out—she could only clench her fists tightly.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Daisy Grass finally spoke softly, "I believe you truly are the Great Sage’s junior sister. Even if not, you must at least be his junior niece—otherwise, you wouldn’t know the complete formula. That much, you’ve proven. But it’s still possible you’re a traitor to Crescent Star Cave. So... what you need to prove next is that you mean no harm. Or, you both can put these on."
With that, Daisy Grass took something from a nearby demon’s hand and tossed it toward the two of them. With a metallic clink, it landed in front of them.
When Clara saw what Daisy had thrown, she was instantly furious, staring at her in disbelief.
They were two pairs of pipa-bone shackles—designed to pierce through the pipa bone and temporarily seal one’s cultivation. Was Daisy really treating them as criminals, demanding they cripple their own powers?
Clara’s lips twitched, her eyes ablaze with fury.
In all her years, she had never suffered such humiliation!
Yet Daisy Grass acted as if she hadn’t seen any of it, simply gazing back at Clara Heart in silence, her smile serene and unruffled.
"Got any close-combat artifacts on you?" A voice echoed in Nathan Young’s mind.
"I’m covered in close-combat gear. What’s the plan?"
"We fight our way out!"
"What?"
Before Nathan could react, a golden whip shot out from Clara’s sleeve like a serpent, landing firmly in her grasp.
Glaring at Daisy Grass, Clara Heart barked, "Release the barrier, or once I get out, you’ll regret it!"
Daisy Grass and the other little demons took a step back, but all assumed a watchful stance, ready to see what would happen next.
Nathan edged closer to Clara and whispered, "Hey… didn’t you say this barrier formation was insanely strong? Why are you…"
"It’ll be tough to get out unscathed. But even if we can’t escape whole, it’s better than letting them treat us like criminals!"
With that, Clara gritted her teeth and swung the whip in a wide arc, lashing out in all directions.
In an instant, the golden whip extended to a hundred zhang*, twisting along the cavern floor like a slender serpent.
Immediately, the entire barrier formation was triggered.
A terrifying roar thundered from every direction; the whole cavern seemed to shake, and fine dust trickled down from the ceiling.
Dark red sigils spread rapidly across the rock walls, crawling over every stone in an instant. The blood-red glow turned the entire underground chamber into a scene of carnage.
All at once, attacks of every kind surged in from all sides.
There were roars like ten thousand armies, shaking the soul; blood-red shields, nearly invisible to the naked eye, pressed in from every direction, dividing the space into a labyrinth; blue lightning ricocheted between the shields, unpredictable and deadly… even stone spikes erupted from the ground!
Clara watched helplessly as her whip was sliced into dozens of pieces by spinning wind blades.
Nathan stood frozen in shock.
There were at least twenty interlocking mechanical arrays at work here, each one powerful enough that, with a single misstep, Nathan had no doubt he’d be torn to pieces.
He’d seen plenty of mechanical arrays before, but apart from the time he broke into Blossom Mountain on the eve of Monkey’s wedding, he’d never really studied them. And even then, he’d only breached the outer defenses—he was nowhere near the mountain’s core.
Right now, he couldn’t help but grip his Flame Spear tightly, nerves taut.
"It’s not too late to put them on. If you truly mean no harm, you have nothing to fear." Daisy Grass glanced at the two pairs of pipa-bone shackles on the ground, nudging them toward Clara and Nathan.
At this moment, though the mechanical arrays roared with power, they were still holding back—serving only as a threat, not yet putting their lives in real danger.
Clara stared down at the two silver-glinting shackles, her eyes wide, teeth chattering with fury.
"We’ll see about that—after a fight!"
With a flick of her wrist, dozens of silver darts shot out from Clara’s sleeve, hurtling toward Daisy Grass—only to be blocked instantly by the shields raised by the barrier formation.
"Negotiations are over." Daisy Grass said coolly, retreating with her demons into the shadowy tunnels beyond.
Instantly, every attack converged on Clara and Nathan!
...
Meanwhile, on the far side of the world, Tripitaka was busier than ever in a remote corner of the Western Ox Continent.
In such a remote, non-Buddhist village, monks were not welcome. But doctors—especially those like Tripitaka, who charged nothing and even supplied his own herbs—were eagerly sought after.
Word spread quickly. Soon, villagers brought all their sick to see him; the place bustled with activity, and Tripitaka was run off his feet.
The others stood off to the side, watching from a distance.
In this tiny village, it didn’t take Tripitaka long to see every patient he could treat. Since he charged no fees, the villagers spontaneously gave alms; in one stroke, his food and lodging for the night were settled.
Monkey had assumed that once Tripitaka finished treating the sick, he’d be done. But before the diagnoses were even finished, Tripitaka launched a new service—letter writing.
This remote village lacked not only doctors, but literate people as well. The nearest private school* was dozens of li over the mountains. But that wasn’t the main issue—the real problem was Tripitaka also took charge of delivering the letters.
This village lacked literate folk, and the same was true elsewhere. Occasionally, a woman married in, a son-in-law joined the family, or a distant relative visited. Even if someone managed to find a scribe to write a family letter, there was no guarantee anyone at the destination could read it.
Tripitaka, though, offered a one-stop solution: since he was heading west anyway, he’d write the letters, deliver them on his route, and even read them aloud when he arrived.
*Notes: 'zhang' is an ancient Chinese unit of length, about 3.3 meters. 'Private school' refers to traditional rural education, often a small village school run by a local scholar.
So it went—Tripitaka busied himself for hours, working late into the night before he finally finished everything, earning enough food for months to come.
Monkey never imagined he’d one day be helping a monk tend to villagers, write letters, and even play courier in a tiny village. He couldn’t help but chuckle wryly.
Perhaps this is what the Way of Universal Salvation truly means. Universal salvation can be grand, or it can be humble—down to these tiny, everyday acts.
After much effort, the group settled into a small thatched hut for the night. Tripitaka, however, lit an oil lamp and pored over his map, carefully planning the route to deliver every letter.
Monkey finally couldn’t stand it and reached out. "Just give me all the letters. Let Aiden Ao deliver them—he’ll have them all delivered by tonight. Get some rest."
Tripitaka looked up at Monkey and shook his head. "This is part of my cultivation, too."
He lowered his head again, continuing to study the map intently.
Monkey gave a helpless smile. "And this counts as cultivation?"
"This is called entering the world," Tripitaka murmured. "I am a monk, pure in body and mind, with no possessions and no trade. The money I brought from Gold Mountain Temple is long gone; from here on, I must rely on almsgiving. But if I do nothing, if I don’t enter the world, where will alms come from? In the Great Tang, whenever famine or disaster struck, corpses littered the land. If I had no skills, I might have been just one more among them."
"You think we’d let you starve?"
"What if you weren’t here?" Tripitaka replied softly. "I’m just the first. Once others understand this Way of Universal Salvation, there will be thousands more like me. Will they have you by their side?"
After a moment of silence, Tripitaka continued, "So, unless it involves gods, Buddhas, or demons—things beyond human ability—I must handle everything myself, not rely on you. Along the way, many people don’t believe in Buddhism; they think monks are swindlers. If I do real work, maybe I can change their minds."
Clearly, to be a monk—especially a wandering monk—you really have to master every skill under the sun.
Looking at him now, Monkey almost believed that if this world had no demons, gods, or Buddhas, this monk really could walk alone from the East all the way to the Great Thunderclap Temple.
In some ways, he was far stronger than Monkey had ever been. Hunger, sickness, even bandits—there seemed to be nothing in this world that could stop Tripitaka from pursuing his ideals.
With a shrug, Monkey stopped asking.
...
Blossom Mountain, under the stars.
With a thunderous boom, the ground split open, leaving a massive crater. Amid swirling dust, two figures shot out and landed on a distant cliff.
Clara staggered, nearly collapsing where she stood.
At that moment, her clothes were torn in many places, her left shoulder wounded and blood soaking her sleeve—a picture of utter disarray.
Clara clutched her chest, paused, and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Her face was deathly pale.
Nathan rushed to support her, but she held out a hand to stop him.
By contrast, Nathan—hardened by years as a war god of Heaven—had fewer artifacts than Clara and was less versed in formations, but his combat experience and reflexes kept his injuries light. He was in far better shape than Clara.
"Are you all right?"
Clara slowly shook her head, eyes shut tight, needing a long moment to recover.
"I'm going to kill them!"
Nathan spun, ready to dive back through the breach, but Clara quickly grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Are you crazy? We don’t even know how complex those tunnels are, or how many more barriers there might be. Besides, they know the terrain—if they want to hide, you’ll never find them." Clara frowned in pain, sighing, "Don’t… don’t make things worse."
Nathan gritted his teeth, gave a cold snort, and turned. "So what now? You’re so badly hurt—shouldn’t we retreat?"
Clara shook her head. "I’ll be fine. Just guard me while I recover."
With that, Clara sat cross-legged, took out two alchemy pills and swallowed them, then closed her eyes to meditate.
Nathan did the same, popping a few pills and standing guard with his Flame Spear.
Far off in the darkness, Daisy Grass watched them, her brow furrowed.
"They’re still not leaving, even after all that?"
"Maybe we shouldn’t have let them off so easily," Little Seven murmured.
"Nathan’s a Celestial Sage. Our barriers can only injure him, not kill him. For one, he’s a Traveler’s Path cultivator; for another, he’s loaded with artifacts. As for Clara… she’s inexperienced, but she’s definitely a disciple of Master Sage Subhuti. If she died here, and the Great Sage asked about it, we’d be in trouble."
"So what now? Just keep watching them?"
After a moment’s thought, Daisy Grass instructed, "Go to the Eastern Sea Dragon Palace. Ask the Fourth Princess whether Master Sage Subhuti really has an eleventh inner disciple, and if so, what’s their name, gender, and appearance. Also, get the latest on the Great Sage, and find out what his current relationship with South Heaven Gate is—whether Heaven might send forces against us."
"On it."
Soon, Clara finished absorbing the pills and stabilized her wounds, though her strength hadn’t returned. Helpless, she lay down to nap, but couldn’t sleep for worry.
Nathan could just make out Clara’s muttering, half-asleep and half-dreaming.
"Those two old men… This time, they really aren’t coming to help me…"