Tusita Palace, Thirty-Three Heavens.
Amid swirling clouds and mist, a massive floating rock dotted with emerald greenery supports a cool pavilion. Inside, Lord Lao and a black-haired elder sit across from each other, playing go on a stone board.
The black-haired elder, eyes fixed on the board, reached out, brushed aside his sleeve, and picked up a black stone. He said leisurely, "I hear Marshal Silver has defied imperial orders and is now leading the Heavenly Fleet to suppress demons at Blossom Mountain in Eastrealm. It seems General Lee from South Heaven Gate is also involved."
As he placed the black stone, he glanced up at Lord Lao.
This elder wore a crimson brocade Daoist robe, his shoulder-length black hair gleaming like oil, though his temples were streaked with white. His face was rugged and angular, as if carved by a blade, and his short, bristly beard lent him the air of a warrior rather than a Daoist immortal.
In terms of appearance, he seemed much younger than Lord Lao.
"Junior brother, haven't you long since stopped concerning yourself with worldly affairs? Why so interested this time?" Lord Lao asked, casually picking up a white stone and placing it on the board, his manner relaxed and unhurried.
"It's not that I'm particularly interested," the black-haired elder chuckled. "I just happened to hear someone mention it and asked in passing. In my leisure, I sometimes listen to rumors to pass the time."
With that, he placed another stone and let out a long sigh, saying offhandedly, "I've glimpsed a bit of the Heavenly Dao in my recent cultivation. This battle at Blossom Mountain... something feels off. Could the Dao itself be changing?"
"You worry too much, junior brother. The Heavenly Dao is not so easily fathomed—sometimes it merely takes a turn." Lord Lao placed his stone, stroking his long beard and laughing warmly.
The black-haired elder paused, staring at the board with fewer than thirty stones placed. After a long moment, he slapped his forehead in sudden realization: "I’m still no match for you, senior brother. Hahaha!"
"Another game?" Lord Lao asked.
"No, no, even a hundred games wouldn’t help—I still couldn’t beat you, senior brother." The black-haired elder waved his hand.
"But isn’t the point of playing go more than just winning?"
"If not to win, then what’s the point?"
Watching the black-haired elder, Lord Lao sighed deeply: "You’re still as spirited as you were in your youth, junior brother. Truly, it makes me envious."
"What’s there to envy? I remember you were just as spirited in your youth, senior brother. Back then, you rather disliked such a mindset, didn’t you?"
As Lord Lao tidied up the board, he chuckled dryly: "It’s only when something’s lost that one learns to cherish it. To govern the Dao—five hundred years of rise, five hundred years of decline—in the end, it’s all fleeting as clouds. The farther one sees, the more helpless one feels. I no longer have the sharp ambition of my youth."
He gently patted the black-haired elder’s hand and said softly, "Not attaining is not so frightening; what’s truly frightening is finding nothing ahead at all."
The black-haired elder gazed at Lord Lao’s troubled face for a long time. "Heh, you’re not wrong, senior brother. Everyone has their own burdens. We’re not like those Western cultivators—how could we ever be ‘blissful’? Hahaha!"
After his laughter faded, the black-haired elder paused and asked, "Senior brother, regarding the battle at Blossom Mountain—who do you think will win?"
"My opinion?" Lord Lao pondered briefly, then replied with a faint smile, "I don’t know."
"Even you don’t know, senior brother?" The black-haired elder squinted at Lord Lao.
"I don’t know."
"How odd," the black-haired elder said, stroking his beard with his thumb. "Marshal Silver is said to be Heaven’s finest field commander. Could he really lose to a mere demon monkey from the mortal realm?"
Placing the last stone in its box, Lord Lao looked up at the black-haired elder and said, "Victory or defeat—what does it matter to us?"
The black-haired elder pursed his lips. "That’s true. Originally, choosing mortals to rule Heaven was meant to keep the balance between realms. But in recent years, the Heavenly Fleet has suppressed the demons too harshly, and now Heaven stands alone atop the Three Realms. If Marshal Silver were to lose, it might be for the best—the demon clans could rise again, and balance would be restored."
"Rise and fall is inevitable, but things cannot return to their original state."
"Why not?" The black-haired elder was momentarily puzzled.
Stroking his long beard, Lord Lao sighed, "This time, the demon monkey is... different."
...
The standoff dragged on for a full day—nearly three hundred thousand troops on both sides simply stared at each other.
Throughout the day, both armies did little more than hurl insults—neither side made a move.
It wasn’t until sunset that three of the Heavenly Fleet’s forward squares began to withdraw.
"Did they come just to show off and then leave?" Monkey flicked his hand. "Advance—don’t let them walk away so easily."
Turning to the side, Monkey said to Nine-Headed Wyrm, "I can’t leave the rear—why don’t you take the lead up front?"
"Alright." Nine-Headed Wyrm nodded, then soared into the air as a streak of black light toward the front lines.
After a silent day, the demon army’s war drums finally thundered. The frontline demon troops quickly snapped to attention and began to advance.
The already ragged ranks slowly spread out, loosely escorting twelve wooden warships as they moved forward. Faces of every shape and size radiated fierce killing intent.
Seeing the demon army of Blossom Mountain finally stir, the three retreating squares immediately halted.