"Monkey King, run!" a familiar voice called out.
"What?" The Monkey King blinked sleepily, glancing around.
It was late at night, in a desolate wilderness. The ground was cracked, the trees withered, and his feet sank into a pile of soft, dead leaves.
"Run! He's coming after you!"
He whipped around and saw a gaunt man in the distance, drawing a bow.
It was a thin face, but it had no eyes.
Boundless terror spread through the Monkey King's heart.
He bolted, weaving between trees to dodge the incoming arrows.
The man missed three times, then put away his longbow and drew a dagger, quickly giving chase.
"Run! Monkey King! Run!"
The Monkey King ran wildly, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.
Wind swirled behind him as he stumbled through the woods, crashing through until, at last, he could no longer hear footsteps. Only then did he hide behind a boulder.
Simon Stone laughed wearily: "Heh... heh... hahaha... Birdie, we escaped! I cheated death again. Hahaha! Birdie—Birdie, where are you?" He looked about in panic, but did not see the small, familiar figure he expected.
Suddenly, his palm felt wet.
He looked down and saw Birdie before him, barely alive, her body slashed by a long, deep wound.
Warm blood flowed from her body, staining the Monkey King's palm red.
"Birdie... Birdie! Don't die! We were supposed to cultivate immortality together! Don't die!"
The Monkey King desperately pressed his hand to the wound, but it was all in vain.
Blood gushed through Simon Stone's fingers, dripping to the ground and sending ripples through the air, turning the entire earth red.
A shrill sound rang in his ears.
The boulder beside him twisted into a menacing face, and the forest roared with laughter in the wind, as if the whole world was mocking him.
Hands reached out from the muddy ground, from the rocks, from the tree trunks—like freed evil spirits, stretching toward Birdie, whom the Monkey King guarded in his palm!
What are you doing? What are you doing! No!
The Monkey King panicked and fled.
In his palm, Birdie murmured something, but he had no time to listen. He was dodging everywhere, but there was nowhere to hide.
A hand reached out from the tree roots and tripped him. In the chaos, Birdie rolled several meters away, leaving a long trail of blood.
The once-bare branches above exploded with countless red leaves, the color of blood.
The Monkey King tried to stand, but hands reached out from all sides, gripping him tightly. No matter how he struggled, he could not break free.
The leaves gathered into a human face—a face without eyes—its mouth wide open, howling as it rushed toward Birdie!
No—no—ahhh—!' The Monkey King suddenly opened his eyes, staring wide as bronze bells.
Half-awake outside, Ethan was startled and pulled out his 'Linked Scroll.'
Moonlight filtered in through the window, casting an uneasy silence over the pitch-black room. Only the broken window rattled in the wind.
Simon Stone stared in terror at his empty hands, sweat dripping from his brow.
Another nightmare... cough, cough...' Simon Stone pinched his throat, touched the scar on his abdomen, and gazed outside. The sky was sparse with stars and a bright moon.
After a while, once his breathing calmed, he lay back on the bed, quietly pondering.
'Seventy-two Transformations' is the path of the Wanderer, but I'm forced to cultivate the path of Awakening... Threefold Rejection... The Wanderer's path takes years, but Awakening takes centuries...' He muttered as if dreaming, though he was more awake than ever.
Birdie...' He took out the orange feather and placed it in his palm. In the moonlight, the wing—weathered by time—had lost its former luster.
I don't want to wait any longer.
The next day, as usual, he went to greet Sage Subhuti, but unlike before, he didn't say a word more than necessary.
As he was leaving, Sage Subhuti rose and looked at him. The two exchanged glances, but said nothing.
After a long moment, Simon Stone bowed again and said, "Master, I have disappointed you."
Sage Subhuti simply smiled and said, "Go on."
Simon Stone slowly left the room and, as usual, went to meditate on the back mountain.
Belle noticed he spoke less and ate more, but otherwise was unchanged—perhaps his mind had grown calmer.
That night, Simon Stone turned off the lamp early and lay in bed, listening to something in the darkness.
Outside, Ivan—on night duty—was already yawning from exhaustion.
By midnight, Ivan was fast asleep behind the green rock outside. Only then did Simon Stone quietly climb out of bed, shed his wide Daoist robe, and slip out the window.
Outside, he gazed distantly at the Cloud Pavilion, but instead of taking the corridor, he sprinted toward the rock wall.
The moon cast its icy white light on the ground and on Simon Stone's dark-gold fur, just as it had on that night ten years ago.
Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the hanging vines on the rock wall, veins bulging in his arms.
Step by step, he climbed, leaving claw marks on the hard stone wall.
Scaling the wall, leaping over cliffs, sneaking through gardens, he raced past the Soaring Cloud Pavilion straight to his destination—the Scripture Tower!
Ten years of wandering had etched wildness deep into his heart—a mark of both training and nature.
He had long mastered midnight stealth and counter-tracking without a teacher.
Evading the guards, Simon Stone climbed straight up the stone pillar to the second floor.
Inside, Sage Subhuti, meditating with eyes closed, suddenly opened his eyes and turned toward the Scripture Tower.
For a long time, the inner chamber was silent, with only the candlelight flickering in the wind.
With a long sigh, Sage Subhuti slowly closed his eyes again and resumed his cultivation as if nothing had happened.
By the moonlight streaming through the window, Simon Stone could clearly see shelves upon shelves filled with bamboo scrolls, leather-bound rolls, and paper books.
He grabbed a bamboo scroll at random and unfurled it in the moonlight, revealing rows upon rows of densely packed characters.
Bird Script?!
He grabbed another scroll and unfurled it.
Worm... Worm Script...
His hand trembled as he gripped the bamboo scroll—he couldn't understand any of the writing!
If you won't teach me, I'll learn on my own!' In the cold night, Simon Stone gritted his teeth and growled, clutching the bamboo scroll.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Simon Stone hurriedly stuffed a few scrolls into his robe and leapt out the second-floor window, cautiously retracing his path.
The next morning, Simon Stone pretended nothing had happened and accompanied Belle to greet Master Sage Subhuti, but found the door tightly closed and a young Daoist standing outside.
The young Daoist bowed and said, "Master instructed that if Uncle Simon arrives, let him know: 'From now on, unless there is something urgent, you need not come for morning greetings. Focus on your cultivation; formalities may be skipped.'"
Belle was bewildered, but Simon Stone understood perfectly.