At this moment, somewhere in the Western Ox Continent.
Amid wind and waves, a small boat was slowly making its way across the pitch-black surface of the river.
At the bow stood Marshal Silver, facing into the wind, his eyes narrowed and unmoving, his expression cold and stern.
Behind him, Barry Bear and General Curtain sat at either side of the boat’s rail, faces expressionless, each with one hand resting on their weapon, maintaining a vigilant posture.
Further back sat the Monkey King.
He sat cross-legged, eyes tightly shut, appearing as if deep in meditation.
At the stern, Tripitaka and Prince Adrian, the Little White Dragon, leaned together, chatting amiably with the ferryman at the helm.
At first, the conversation was about the ferryman’s family. The ferryman stammered, unable to open up, so the topic shifted to the fish of the Blackwater River. This, at least, he could discuss, though he seemed only mildly interested. Eventually, by way of idle chatter, the talk turned to Prince Adrian.
The ferryman seemed especially intrigued by Prince Adrian; as soon as he was mentioned, his whole demeanor brightened.
Unlike the others, Prince Adrian was the only chatterbox in the westward party. When the ferryman asked, he truly spilled everything—from his identity as the Third Prince of the Western Sea to the story of leaving home for Belle Whitebone, holding nothing back.
What was stranger still was that, despite hearing Adrian's identity and history, the ferryman neither doubted nor showed any shock. He simply accepted it and conversed with Prince Adrian as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Monkey’s ears twitched slightly, a faint smile rising at the corner of his mouth. Tripitaka bowed his head, quietly glancing at the others, as if he too already understood.
As the conversation continued, the ferryman casually remarked, “A parent’s grace is as boundless as Heaven and Earth. How could mere romance compare?”
At this, Prince Adrian grew a little unhappy, casting a disdainful glance at the ferryman. “I know what I owe my parents. Every New Year and on my father’s birthday, I always send a letter of greeting.”
“But how could a mere letter be enough? What parents truly wish for is to see you in person.”
“If he truly wanted to see me, he wouldn’t keep opposing my wife at every turn.”
“Parents are parents—they always have their pride, don’t they? As children, shouldn’t we try to be understanding? If you ask me, Third Prince, if you have time, you ought to return to the Western Sea Dragon Palace and visit the Old Dragon King and Queen. If you went home more often, even if your father said nothing, I’m sure he’d be glad.”
“Hey, why are you so concerned with my family affairs?” Prince Adrian rolled his eyes, a bit scornful. “If he’d let me bring my wife home, I wouldn’t just visit—I’d move back in and stay.”
“How can you say that?” The ferryman sighed deeply as he rowed. “As the saying goes, ‘While your parents live, do not travel far.’ While they’re still alive, you should do your utmost to be filial. Don’t wait until disaster strikes and regret it when it’s too late.”
“Tch.” Prince Adrian shook his head. “Some things you mortals just don’t understand. In the Dragon Palace, we have Peaches of Immortality bestowed by the Heavenly Court—they grant long life. How could mortals compare?”
“How could I not understand?” The ferryman sighed softly. “If Peaches of Immortality really granted eternal life, then where is your uncle, the Jing River Dragon King, now?”
At this question, Prince Adrian was instantly startled, glancing up at the ferryman.
Tripitaka sat quietly, fingers wrapped around his prayer beads, saying nothing.
Monkey’s hand, resting on his knee, trembled slightly.
The ferryman paused, then hurriedly added, “What’s so mysterious about that? The story of the Jing River Dragon King’s wager is known throughout the land—it’s common knowledge now.”
“That’s true.” Prince Adrian nodded. “My uncle was just confused for a moment and did something foolish.”
Turning his head, Prince Adrian gently nudged Tripitaka with his elbow. “Master Tripitaka, you’re a man of Great Tang—you must have heard something about my uncle, the Jing River Dragon King?”
Tripitaka nodded slightly. “I have heard the tale. Supposedly, the Jing River Dragon Palace made a wager with a wandering astrologer about the next day’s rain. The astrologer guessed correctly, but the Jing River Dragon King secretly altered the time and amount of rain, which angered the Jade Emperor, so…”
Prince Adrian shook his head mysteriously. “It’s not that simple. After that great battle more than six hundred years ago, the Heavenly Court declined, and the Four Seas Dragon Palace no longer served as obediently as before. Do you really think my uncle lost his life just for altering the time and amount of rain? Is that believable?”
“Oh?” The ferryman smiled, asking offhandedly, “If that’s not it, then what’s the real story?”
“You all don’t know the story as well as I do.” Prince Adrian cleared his throat and spoke slowly. “It wasn’t just changing the time and amount of rain—it was stopping the rain altogether. For a whole year, not a drop fell on Chang’an. And it wasn’t the Jade Emperor who wanted my uncle dead—it was Victor Wei who executed first and reported later.”
At these words, Monkey suddenly opened his eyes and looked over at them.
Just then, the wind and waves on the river seemed to intensify, tilting the entire boat. Tripitaka was already struggling to keep his seat.
Before Prince Adrian could react, Barry Bear and General Curtain had already leapt to their feet, channeling their strength to press down on either side of the boat. Instantly, the vessel returned to its proper position.
No matter how wild the waves raged, the boat remained steady as a mountain.
A bead of cold sweat slowly slid down the ferryman’s forehead as he quickly lowered his head and kept rowing.
“It’s fine.” Monkey pointed at Prince Adrian. “Go on—I want to hear more about the Jing River Dragon King.”
“The Great Sage wants to hear it too?” Prince Adrian gave a nervous laugh, licking his lips before continuing. “Then I’ll go on. My uncle really had no choice. That year, the Great Tang was struck by disaster, and the imperial granaries were running low. The Tang Emperor ordered his ministers to find a solution. The Imperial Astrological Bureau’s director, Thomas Yuan, turned to his uncle, Peter Yuan. Peter Yuan was a cultivator—his skills weren’t outstanding, but he’d just entered the Spirit-Refinement Stage. Among mortals, though, that made him exceptional. He set his sights on the Jing River. I mean, for a Spirit-Refinement cultivator to tell fishermen where to catch fish—it’s child’s play, isn’t it?”
Thanks to his guidance, the Jing River fishermen’s catches soared, and Thomas Yuan was rewarded by the Tang Emperor.
“But if things went well for the people, what about the aquatic clans? People have eaten fish for millennia, but the Jing River is only so big—if you catch that much, the aquatic folk are bound to dwindle. As king of the river, how could my uncle, the Jing River Dragon King, ignore that?”
Swallowing hard, Prince Adrian continued, “So my uncle appeared in a dream to the Tang Emperor, urging him to deal with Peter Yuan and Thomas Yuan. But the Tang Emperor was protective of his own and saw himself as the Son of Heaven—he refused. The matter stalled, and not only did he not punish the uncle and nephew, he even rewarded Thomas Yuan. My uncle couldn’t accept this, so he stopped the rain over Chang’an.”
The Tang Emperor was stubborn too. Even after a year without rain in Chang’an, he refused to compromise. He brought in grain from other regions to support the city and kept offering sacrifices to Heaven, almost as if he were lodging a formal complaint with the Heavenly Court.
When the Jade Emperor learned of this, he ordered rain again and again, but our dragon clan refused to comply. If we gave in to a mortal once, how could we ever stand our ground again? So my father dragged things out—no rain. That’s how Victor Wei ended up executing first and reporting later. It wasn’t the Jade Emperor who ordered my uncle’s death, but Victor Wei acting on the Tang Emperor’s command. Afterward, there was a huge dispute—the Four Seas Dragon Kings jointly petitioned to have Victor Wei put to death, the celestial gods intervened to protect him, and Peter Yuan, realizing things had escalated beyond repair, fled overnight. All these things have never really been settled. If you want more details, I truly don’t know them.”
With that, Prince Adrian spread his hands helplessly and smiled.
The rest of the party fell silent.
Tripitaka nodded, sighing softly. “Legends are always muddled—some are twisted on purpose, others get distorted in the retelling until the truth is lost entirely.”
“If you told the whole truth, what face would the Heavenly Court have left?” Prince Adrian stretched and said, “If I were my uncle, I wouldn’t care about any celestial law forbidding interference in the mortal realm. Peter Yuan was just a Spirit-Refinement cultivator—I’d have dealt with him myself. That way, things wouldn’t have blown up so badly, and my uncle wouldn’t have died with regrets.”
With that, he let out a long sigh.
Just then, the river surged, and a monstrous wave rose up, crashing down toward the boat from above.
The wave was so immense that even ocean waves paled in comparison. If it struck head-on, no matter how steady the boat’s balance, it would surely be torn apart.
As everyone’s attention was drawn to the towering wave, the ferryman suddenly shouted, “Master! Watch out!” and lunged toward Tripitaka.
But before he could reach Tripitaka, he felt something pressing against his chest, barring his way.
Looking up, he saw Monkey seated at a distance, gripping one end of his golden staff—the other end was pressed firmly against the ferryman’s chest.
For a moment, the ferryman was utterly stunned.
At that moment, everyone on the boat except Prince Adrian was staring at him coldly. The wave didn’t overturn the boat as expected—instead, it froze in midair, transformed into a sculpture of ice.
Not only the wave, but the river around the boat froze solid as well. Supported by the ice, the boat rose slightly.
Marshal Silver, expressionless, walked over to Tripitaka and pulled him behind himself.
“Turn back.” Monkey, gripping his golden staff, stared coldly at the ferryman. “We don’t need you to cross the river. So don’t try anything foolish.”
The ferryman’s hand trembled as he retreated a step and obediently reached for the oar.
Sweat poured down like rain.
By now, the river around the boat was entirely frozen. It was Monkey’s magic, propelling both the ice and the boat toward the opposite shore—there was no need for the ferryman to row at all.
For a moment, the entire boat fell utterly silent.