How much Gold Essence did Blossom Mountain actually send this time? No one could say for sure.
The Gold Essence, each piece no bigger than a soybean, filled twenty-one crates of varying sizes. To count them all would take a sleepless month. Using the Imperial Horse Bureau’s not-so-precise iron scale to weigh the crates together, they estimated around six hundred eighty to six hundred ninety thousand units.
As soon as the seals were torn off and the crates opened, that dazzling golden light instantly flooded the entire room.
When the staff of the Imperial Horse Bureau first heard Monkey was bringing up Gold Essence from Blossom Mountain, everyone—immortal maids and celestial slaves alike—had been anxious. But now, all that remained on their faces was utter shock.
Monkey planted a foot on one of the crates, tilted his head, and gazed indifferently at those "little soybeans." He called, "Mona Frost!"
The pretty young woman standing dazed at the side snapped back to herself and hurriedly bowed. "Mona Frost, reporting."
"Come here."
Mona Frost carefully approached Monkey and whispered, "What are your orders, sir?"
"Hand."
"Hand?" Mona Frost widened her eyes in confusion.
Monkey grabbed her hand, scooped up a handful of Gold Essence, and shoved it into her palm. Frowning, as if dissatisfied with the amount, he pulled Mona Frost’s hand to her own skirt hem, shaping it into a pouch, then used both hands to pour several more handfuls in.
Mona Frost was stunned, dropping to her knees with a thud. "S-Sir, this is—"
"It’s your reward. You’ve worked hard these past few days. I don’t really understand the affairs of the Imperial Horse Bureau, so I’ll be relying on you. You know there are people waiting to catch me slipping up—don’t let me leave any stains on my record."
Mona Frost blinked rapidly, so overcome she could barely breathe. After a long moment, she finally whispered, "Sir, this is just my duty. You... you don’t need to do this."
Monkey looked down at her and said, "I’m the one in charge of the Imperial Horse Bureau. Whether it’s needed or not—that’s for me to decide. Understood?"
Mona Frost trembled and bowed her head. "Yes, sir... yes..."
Her voice was so soft it was barely audible.
Turning away, Monkey called out again, "Lee Ping!"
"Sir... do—do I get some too?"
Lee Ping leaned forward, eyes wide, his anticipation written all over his face.
"Not just you," Monkey replied coolly, tilting his head. "Clara Frost, Leo Liu, Liam Liu—you fill every pocket you have until they're full."
"Long live the lord!" The three celestial slaves burst out in cheers, dropping to their knees and bowing fervently.
"Don’t shout ‘long live’ so carelessly."
"Then... then, nine thousand years to the lord!"
Monkey nearly choked.
"That’s even worse than ‘long live’..." Monkey waved his hand lazily. "Enough nonsense. Hurry up—take as much as you can carry, it’s all yours."
With that, he stepped aside.
The three celestial slaves cheered and rushed at the Gold Essence. Clara Frost, however, maintained her feminine reserve, approaching Mona Frost and waiting for her elder sister’s approval.
Monkey glanced back at the three ecstatic celestial slaves, then, smiling, walked toward Belle, who stood at the doorway.
"Is this really wise?" she asked softly.
Monkey folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, quietly watching the three celestial slaves stuff their pockets full. He sighed, "They say 'money makes the devil turn the mill.' From what I see, when you have enough money, gods and ghosts aren't much different."
"They're just the lowest-ranking celestial slaves."
"Is that so?" Monkey couldn’t help recalling the deal at Dragon’s Pool, and chuckled. "For most immortals, the only reason they don’t act like devils is because the price isn’t high enough."
...
Money can’t always buy loyalty, but it can certainly buy temporary allegiance—and for now, that was all Monkey needed.
With such lavish rewards, the morale in the Imperial Horse Bureau changed instantly—especially for those three celestial slaves.
Unlike other departments, the Imperial Horse Bureau was too small to have its own skyship. Hearing that Monkey would go to the Celestial Treasury the next day, Leo Liu and Liam Liu spent the night polishing the Bureau’s one long-unused carriage until it gleamed, while Lee Ping waited outside Monkey’s door at dawn, sulking.
Driving the rickety carriage that squeaked and rattled as it flew, Monkey, Lee Ping, and Belle set out for the Celestial Treasury on the Ninth Heaven, the cart loaded with Gold Essence.
From the Eighth Heaven to the Ninth, the journey was actually quite short—at least for Monkey. But with six horses pulling the carriage, it would take at least an hour.
Bored, Monkey climbed onto the roof of the carriage and started chatting with Lee Ping, who was driving.
"Do you have any long-term goals?"
Lee Ping, driving the carriage, grinned. "To be honest, sir, I didn’t have any before. But... heh, now I’m thinking of getting some pills and techniques, and really pursuing the Traveler’s Path."
Monkey paused. "The Traveler’s Path? Are you talented enough for that?"
"Definitely not talented enough. For the Sage’s Path, you need a great teacher and deep insight... but, to be honest, sir, all I know is horse care—nothing else. If I can at least reach the Spirit-Refinement Stage on the Traveler’s Path, or even just the Spirit Channeling Stage, that’s another way forward. I won’t have to tend horses forever."
"That’s true." Monkey nodded, then after a brief silence, asked, "Above the Seventh Heaven, not counting soldiers, how many immortals are there?"
"You mean true immortals at the Spirit-Transformation Stage and above?"
"Just... anyone living in Heaven, generally called 'immortal'—about how many?"
"Probably a bit over two million. Excluding soldiers, it’s around two million, but I’m not sure of the exact number," Lee Ping replied.
"Over two million..." Monkey's eye twitched.
Heaven isn’t nearly as simple as mortals imagine—it’s a vast, complex system with countless functions.
For monsters, the most familiar part of Heaven is the celestial army that chases them day after day. Yet the million-strong army guarding the Three Realms is just one piece of the vast Heavenly Court.
Take the Palace of Blessed Unions, for example. Everyone knows that Elliot the Matchmaker is its chief.
[Irrelevant to the novel's content, skip this line.]
But how many mortal romances are there? The number rivals the names in the Book of Life and Death—a truly astronomical figure. The Ten Yama Kings and hundreds of thousands of ghost officials are barely enough to run the Netherworld; if the Palace of Blessed Unions had only Elliot the Matchmaker, with a mortal year equaling a single day in Heaven—just twelve hours—he wouldn’t even have time to glance at all of them, let alone manage their fates.
If even romance is like this, what about fortune, longevity, and blessings? Is every thunderbolt in the world really cast by the Thunder God and Lightning Mother themselves?
In fact, just among those living above the Seventh Heaven and directly overseeing the Three Realms, there are over a million staff.
And what about the cultivation level of most frontline staff?
For most, like Lee Ping, Spirit-Focusing Realm is average. Some, like Mona Frost, have reached the Spirit Channeling Stage. Those at the Spirit-Refinement Stage are standouts. As for the Spirit-Transformation Stage... how many in the celestial army have reached that level? Outside of the highest-ranking immortals, it’s almost unheard of in ordinary departments.
If you’re not a true immortal, you still need to eat, drink, and sleep.
To take care of a million frontline staff’s daily needs, you need another million support staff. And that’s not even counting institutions like the Four Dragon Kings’ palaces, the Netherworld, and the mountain gods—if you tried to tally it all, even the Jade Emperor wouldn’t know the exact number.