Facing the retreating crowd, the Monkey King raised his head and stared directly at Danny Crimson, who stood high above.
His blood-stained face was full of laughter.
In that instant, a vein bulged violently on Danny Crimson's forehead.
"If they won't come, will you?" The Monkey King grinned wildly—a proud, contemptuous, and provocative smile.
Those bursts of laughter pierced deep into Belle's heart, tearing it apart.
Standing atop the tree, Danny Crimson's face was livid. He could see that everyone present was gripped by fear.
But this is clearly nothing more than a dying beast! What are you all afraid of?
Watching the scene unfold, Anna Yang found herself smiling in a daze.
Only in despair does such persistence shine—a kind of madness that not everyone can understand.
There are always some people in this world who are brave and fearless, stubborn—even to the point of obsession—unrestrained, proud, and arrogant. Even in the face of utter defeat, they never compromise.
I'd rather die than admit defeat.
The scene before her grew hazy, and in a trance, the Monkey King's figure overlapped with that of her world-renowned brother.
Tears slid down from the corners of her eyes, one by one.
......
In the pitch-dark room, Elder Sky lifted a cup of tea to his lips, but hesitated to take a sip.
......
In the shadowy hall, Master Sage Subhuti paused his carving of the black wood in his hand, looked up, and took a deep breath, his expression grave.
"Master, are you really not going to intervene?" Eugene asked respectfully from the side.
Master Sage Subhuti stared expressionlessly at the dark night outside the door for a long time. He waved his hand, then lowered his head to continue carving the black wood, sighing: "If my Crescent Star Cave is a furnace, then it is also a blade. The more it is tempered today, the sharper it will be when drawn in the future... Only those who can endure will be able to do what they wish."
......
Bright moonlight spilled over the earth, illuminating the frenzied Monkey King.
A thread of fear crept into the hearts of the disciples, causing them to involuntarily step back.
Is this really the end?
No!
Danny Crimson coughed twice, snapping everyone back to attention.
Scarface and One-Eyed Dragon jolted, quickly taking half a step toward the Monkey King.
"Go!" They didn't advance themselves, but waved for the frightened and confused disciples to move forward.
A look of contempt flashed across the Monkey King's face: "Still afraid, huh? Hahaha! Cowards, what are you so scared of? Hahaha!"
Blood seeped from his forehead, streaming down his brow and stinging his eyes—he couldn't even open one eye. Yet that didn't stop him from looking down on all the disciples, including the two Spirit-Absorption cultivators and even Danny Crimson himself.
The disciples exchanged uneasy glances, but none stepped forward—instead, they inched backward.
"Go—!" One-Eyed Dragon roared, brandishing his Curved Saber and swinging it at one of the disciples.
The disciple, terrified, rushed forward, shut his eyes, and threw a punch at the Monkey King.
As expected, the punch landed squarely on the Monkey King's chest.
At that moment, he didn't even have the strength to dodge.
His body tilted slightly, then collapsed to the ground.
"Go—! What are you waiting for!" Scarface kicked a nearby disciple.
Gradually, two, three, four joined in.
The fear that had gripped everyone seemed to dissipate—or perhaps they were simply masking their unease with frenzied actions.
They surrounded the Monkey King, unleashing a barrage of punches and kicks—hysterical, desperate, giving it their all.
Yet the Monkey King only laughed—wildly, maniacally—sending chills down the disciples' spines and driving them even further into madness.
Through a gap in the wall of people, Danny Crimson saw those blood-red eyes locked onto him—like a bottomless abyss, sending chills down his spine.
"Enough, don't kill him. I can't explain it if you do." Danny Crimson flicked his sleeve and vanished into thin air.
Perhaps even he was afraid.
As soon as Danny Crimson disappeared, the two Spirit-Absorption cultivators hurriedly followed.
For those two, not even a moment longer did they wish to stay.
Once the three left, the rest of the disciples exchanged bewildered glances, then scattered as if they'd committed some shameful deed—bolting away, even dropping their torches all over the ground.
On the vast empty ground, a few torches sizzled as they burned.
All that remained was the Monkey King, motionless as if dead, his fur soaked and matted with blood.
Anna Yang smiled helplessly, stood up and took a step, only to see Belle—now freed from her restraints—rushing toward the Monkey King.
"Looks like it's not my turn yet." She smiled, then turned and disappeared into the endless darkness.
......
"Monkey King! Monkey King... Don't die, Monkey King!"
Belle rushed over in panic, stumbled, struggled to her feet, covered in dust, and collapsed onto the Monkey King. Tears streamed down, mixing with the blood on his fur.
She wiped her tears, crying out loud.
"I won't die..." The Monkey King forced open his one remaining eye and looked at the only girl in the world who cared about him. "It's not that easy for me to die. My life is cheap—so cheap even the King of Hell won't take it. Ha... cough..."
A thread of blood was coughed up from the Monkey King's throat, frightening Belle.
"Don't talk! Don't talk!" She frantically tore a strip from her skirt, clutching it in her hand, not knowing where to bandage him.
All along, she was just a ten-year-old child—a helpless child.
The Monkey King's blood and fur were so mixed together that his wounds couldn't even be seen.
"I'll go get Master Sage Subhuti!" Belle turned to leave.
The Monkey King grabbed the corner of her robe. "Don't..."
"Even now!"
"Don't go looking for that... old geezer..." The Monkey King's grip on Belle's robe tightened.
Belle turned back, looking at the fallen body, at the emptiness in those barely open eyes.
Even now, he remained stubborn, refusing to yield.
Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. She wiped them with her sleeve. "Monkey King... Monkey King, don't scare me, okay? Don't be like this, okay? Don't be so stubborn. I'll go get Master Sage Subhuti, he'll save you."
"I don't need... anyone... to save me! No one!" The Monkey King's brow furrowed tightly, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched in pain he could no longer hide. He straightened his chest, only to collapse again, his hand clutching her sleeve refusing to let go.
"I'm sorry, Monkey King." Belle could only lie on top of him, sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I took the Vitality Pill, but... I still can't do anything. All I can do is cry, that's all I know. I'm useless, I'm sorry."
With great effort, the Monkey King raised his bloodied hand, gently touched Belle's head, and wiped away her tears. "Silly girl, don't cry. Next time something happens to me, just stay far away... Don't do anything."
Belle shook her head. "Monkey King... is cultivating immortality really that important? Is it more important than life itself?"
The Monkey King did not answer. He merely opened his eyes a bit and gazed at the moon gliding across the sky, silent, his hand frozen as it stroked Belle's cheek.
His eyes grew slightly moist.
Many, many years ago, someone else had asked him this question—a Canary.
If she were here now, would she ask the same thing?
The Monkey King didn't know. All he knew was that he had sealed off his own escape route long ago. With no way out, he could only keep moving forward.
No matter how many years, no matter how hard, no matter how bitter, he had to persevere—he couldn't retreat even half a step.
If there was no path, he would carve one out.
This was his own choice; there was no room for regret.
After taking two deep breaths and finally regaining some strength, he whispered, "Help me... up."
In the cold night, with the biting wind and the empty mountain, the Monkey King leaned on Belle and, inch by inch, struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily.
Every movement, every ounce of strength brought searing pain—he could only grit his teeth and endure.
"Let's go back."
"Monkey King, why do you have to be this way?"
"I'm afraid that if I ever retreat, I'll lose the courage to move forward... cough, cough..."
"Monkey King! Don't scare me!"
"It's fine... really, I'm fine. I won't die. A couple of coughs won't kill me."
"Stop talking!"
On the long stone steps, the two lonely figures leaned on each other for support.
That night’s road was cold, far, and painful—so painful that his consciousness blurred, so painful that Belle's tears wouldn't stop, so painful that the Monkey King remembered it for the rest of his life.
He remembered that stretch of road—a helpless little girl, crying, stubbornly supporting him with all her strength so he wouldn’t fall, walking together side by side.
When he awoke, it was already the afternoon of the next day. He lay on the couch in his little wooden hut, wrapped up like a rice dumpling.
Belle, covered in blood and grime, stubbornly kept watch at his side. She wrung out a towel and quietly wiped the Monkey King's body.
When Belle saw the Monkey King wake up, she bit her lip, tears fell again, and finally she couldn’t hold back—she burst into sobs.