Eight centuries of entanglement, six centuries of separation, and in the end, their recognition amounted to just a few quiet sentences—easily passed by.
Clara Heart had never imagined it would be like this.
High in the sky, Monkey's figure drifted farther and farther away, blending with the last rays of sunset until it blurred and dissolved into the color of the heavens. It felt just like waking from a dream.
Clara still hung motionless in the air, staring blankly after him. She couldn't help but want to smile, yet tears streamed down her face.
Words could no longer express how she felt at this moment.
Happiness had come so suddenly that she was utterly unprepared—she could only let Monkey lead her onward...
Yes, hasn't it always been this way?
Eight hundred years—whether as Birdie, Belle, or now as Clara Heart.
When Monkey set his heart on sailing off in search of immortality, she didn't want to go, but couldn't refuse, and in the end was dragged onto his war-chariot.
When Monkey resolved to rebel against Heaven, she was afraid, yet just as unable to refuse—she could only watch silently from the sidelines, powerless to change anything.
When Lord Lao revealed the truth to her, she didn’t want to die, but...
She kept compromising, again and again, without any boundaries.
Because of this Monkey, even the gentlest Belle found the courage to defy her master’s orders, to press a dagger to her own throat and step into Tusita Palace, bargaining with her life.
Because of this Monkey, even the strongest, coldest Clara Heart, in a moment of confusion, changed her warning against the Westward Quest into, 'I want... to go with you.'
It was like an endless curse—anything that involved Monkey left her with only surrender, concession, compromise.
'A fate with no flower on the Moon Tree, and no love in the heart?'
Clara pressed her lips together, smiling helplessly through her tears.
In this life, she had planned to break free completely. But now... after just those few words, does she still have the resolve to escape?
Slowly, she turned and flew southwest.
...
Landing far outside the shattered city walls, Monkey trudged toward the solitary city gate, gripping his Golden Staff tighter and tighter.
Broken tiles littered the ground.
All around, civilians in urgent need of help wore blank expressions, as if their souls had been forcibly stripped away.
At this moment, he no longer had the heart to feel any of it.
His anger had completely dissipated, replaced by a sense of powerlessness and anxiety. He too felt soulless.
His mind was crowded with images of Birdie, Belle, Clara Heart, Anna Yang at Mount Hua, and the words Tathagata last spoke to him...
On both sides of the road, corpses were dug out from piles of rubble and laid by the roadside.
When Monkey approached from outside the city, the busy laborers and soldiers stopped what they were doing and watched him quietly. Their eyes were calm, the earlier fervor gone—replaced mostly by doubt. But no one voiced it.
An old woman hurried over, knelt before Monkey, and cried, "Please, Great Sage! My husband is buried under there—please save him! If you’re too late… he might not make it…"
As she spoke, she sobbed so hard she could barely breathe.
Monkey turned his face slightly, gazing in the direction the old woman pointed.
It was a collapsed house. Monkey could clearly sense two people trapped beneath the rubble, but sadly, both were already gone.
He hesitated only briefly, then silently skirted around the old woman and continued forward.
Behind him, the old woman's cries grew ever more piercing. The distrust in the eyes of the onlookers seemed to deepen.
Just as Monkey caught sight of the scripture square in the distance, Barry Bear hurried over to him.
'Great Sage! How did it go?'
Monkey lifted his head and glanced at him.
That single glance left Barry Bear utterly bewildered. For a moment, both were stunned.
After a long while, Monkey spoke softly: 'I've settled it. I spared their lives, and soon... soon, someone should come to help the people. After all, they don't want too many dead. Too many would be troublesome.'
As he spoke, Monkey lowered his head, leaned on his Golden Staff, and walked around Barry Bear, heading toward the square.
Barry Bear was completely baffled, unable to make sense of it; he could only turn and stare blankly at Monkey’s retreating figure.
Tripitaka, robes wrapped tight and prayer beads in hand, walked among the corpses. At each body, he laid out a scripture and recited devoutly, now filthy from head to toe.
As if deliberately avoiding Tripitaka, Monkey did not head for the center of the square, but changed direction, slumped in a corner, and sat down. He looked just like a street thug fallen on hard times.
In the darkness, countless eyes watched him.
'Isn’t that Monkey Immortal supposed to be powerful? Why isn’t he helping?'
'Powerful?' someone snorted. 'He’s just putting on a show. Whatever—forget it. Isn’t what’s happened enough of a lesson for us?'
Everyone kept their heads down, working to rescue people, yet all the while they watched Monkey and the uselessly chanting Tripitaka, whispering among themselves.
In just a short time, an undercurrent of backlash had quietly formed.
Marshal Silver, leaning on his Nine-Toothed Rake, struggled over and asked Monkey in confusion, 'What happened—did we lose?'
'We won.'
'Then... why aren’t you helping? Here...'
'I...' Before Marshal Silver could finish, Monkey opened his mouth, but the words seemed stuck in his throat.
The two stared at each other for a long time before Monkey finally swallowed and said quietly, 'I’m a bit lost. Soon someone will come to help—we’re not needed.'
As they spoke, countless flashes approached from the sky; hundreds, thousands of cultivators descended, joining the rescue effort without a word.
All at once, everyone was at a loss.
Seeing the sudden arrival of so many Avalon Mountain cultivators, Marshal Silver smiled wryly and sat down beside Monkey.
'What happened?'
'Last time...' Monkey stammered, 'Last time, what we guessed really came true. Clara is Belle, is Birdie...'
'Isn’t that something to be happy about?'
Monkey turned to look at Marshal Silver, then lowered his head with a small smile. 'I don’t know. I just told her, if I win, I’ll go find her.'
'And then?'
'She didn’t refuse.'
'Why did you think she’d refuse?'
Marshal Silver’s question left Monkey speechless. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a long time he said nothing, just lowered his head and sat there, still defeated.
He didn’t know how to explain to Marshal Silver what Tathagata had last told him: 'That night, after you survived a great tribulation, you slept deeply. I brought her soul to your side, and before her eyes, opened your heart. Inside, there was guilt, regret, longing, promise... but not love. Do you know how deeply she wept at that moment?'
It was a thorn in his heart—one that hurt with every touch, yet he could not avoid.
A gentle breeze stirred, making the torches in people’s hands flicker, raising a swirl of dust that rang against the scattered rubble.
The wounded Macaque King limped out from some corner and squatted down, gazing idly at the sky.
In the distance, one after another, the buried were rescued; more cultivators kept arriving, bringing healing elixirs, endless food, and supplies in a great procession.
With all these cultivators helping, rescuing the suffering civilians was no challenge. As if infected by their presence, the people—once wary of these Daoist priests—suddenly warmed to them. In every corner, survivors bowed and thanked the cultivators, offering rare hot tea and soup, bowl after bowl.
For a moment, the atmosphere became harmonious. Many even took the chance to chat with the flying cultivators, and countless wanted to join Avalon Mountain as disciples.
Tripitaka remained unmoved by all this, but Marshal Silver, who had been quietly watching, could not help but frown.
'Aren’t you going to do something?'
'Huh?' Monkey suddenly looked up at Marshal Silver, his expression as if waking from a dream. Marshal Silver was left bewildered.
Helpless, Marshal Silver could only sigh deeply. 'What happened?'
Monkey blinked blankly, his expression dazed. He knotted his hands tightly, curling up as if trying to bury himself.
Marshal Silver was speechless at the sight. He had never seen Monkey like this before.
After a long while, he took a deep breath. 'On this Westward Quest, we can’t do without you or Master Tripitaka. What’s really happened to you?'
Monkey squeezed his eyes shut and sighed softly. 'Someone has come...'
'Who?'
'Someone who shouldn’t exist in this world—a person exactly like me. In cultivation, he’s my equal. He is... the soul I lost during Heavenly Tribulation.'
Marshal Silver was shocked by this.
'It’s troubling, but... worst case, we fight. As long as he’s not some selfless Buddha like Tathagata, I fear no one. But...' Monkey blinked at the distant red glow, mouth slightly open, biting his wrist.
After a long time, he spoke in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s: 'Clara... Clara is Birdie, is Belle...'
'I know. And?'
'If I win, I have to go fetch her...'
'She didn’t refuse—what’s the problem?'
'But I also have to go fetch Anna Yang—I can’t abandon her either.'
Marshal Silver grew exasperated. 'Fetch them both—what’s the problem?'
'If it were you, what would you do?' Monkey looked up at Marshal Silver and repeated, 'If it were you, what would you do?'
Marshal Silver was stunned into silence.
Monkey covered his face, sighing quietly. 'Love that can be cut into two portions... is a joke—no matter for yourself or for others.'