Little Journey to the West 022

The closer we got to Spirit Mountain, the more desolate the surroundings became—there were even human bones scattered along the roadside.

I didn't dare imagine what had happened here before.

“Where exactly are we going?” The atmosphere was so oppressive that even I felt out of sorts, so I finally asked.

The monk turned to look at me, then suddenly smiled. “To vanquish demons and seek the true scriptures—are you afraid?”

I shook my head.

Compared to demons and monsters, you, monk, are clearly the more terrifying one.

The monk had said many things. Once I asked whether we'd obtain the scriptures once we ran into trials. He said that was rubbish—a trial was a trial, and it meant someone was making things difficult for us. So what he needed to do was find the bastard giving us grief and beat him up.

That echoed something Old Fox had said once: if you want to suffer, there's no end to the suffering you'll find.

When we returned the relic to that temple, a monk there said his master had taught him to accept hardship with meekness and to praise suffering.

I thought that was wisdom. But after I practiced it with the monk and the others, both the monk and the Great Sage laughed at me.

The monk said the truest principle he'd always followed was this: whoever bares its teeth, you kill it dead; whoever makes you uncomfortable, you find a way to make them uncomfortable. That's how you find the Great Way.

I took that to heart.

I knocked away a short-sighted little demon with my staff, then pressed the crescent blade of my weapon against another demon's throat. It told us this place was called Lion-Camel Ridge.

“We've got three kings here! Let me go if you know what's good for you! Do you even know who our Third King's uncle is?!”

Its face was full of smug pride.

I sliced its head off with the crescent blade without a second thought.

“That Third King's pitiful—can't even recognize his own family. How would I know who his uncle is?”

The monk clapped me on the shoulder and laughed.

I didn't know what he was laughing about.

But unfortunately, the Third King who couldn't find his uncle wasn't at Lion-Camel Ridge. The monk was still a force of nature, hitting almost everything in sight—from lowly patrolling demons to commanding demon generals, almost none could withstand a single punch from him.

That day, the monk's Buddhist chant echoed all over the bone-strewn Lion-Camel Ridge.

I saw two hulking demon figures emerge—one with a mane of wild hair flying in the wind, the other with a long trunk. Honestly, it was a novel sight; back in my homeland, you'd hardly ever see this kind of demon.

But they had more human skulls strung around their necks than I did. That made me feel ashamed, so I quietly pulled off my own necklace and tossed it away.

They shouted that they wanted to negotiate with the monk.

The White Elephant King said Tripitaka had crossed the line—this was their territory, and Tripitaka was breaking the rules.

I almost laughed. Negotiate rules with the monk? His creed had always been: whoever has the bigger fist makes the rules.

The Great Sage whipped out his golden staff and struck straight at them. Honestly, even before we'd entered Lion-Camel Ridge, I could tell the Great Sage was in a foul mood—like he was wrestling with something. When the monk talked to him, he only gave brief replies.

Makes sense, though: the place was awful, littered with corpses, and not far off there were wooden racks hung with severed human limbs.

Even the Great Sage—let alone me—felt the urge to vent. But I held back. I knew I was no match for those two big brutes.

The Great Sage's golden staff clashed against the weapons of those two demon kings. At that instant, even the air seemed to warp.

“Amitābha—watch and learn. When you see something you don't like the look of, you beat it until it starts looking good.”

I nodded. Honestly, sometimes I wondered whether the monk wasn't a monk at all but a Taoist.

The Lion lost its teeth to the Great Sage's blows, and the Elephant had its trunk caught by the Great Sage, who slammed it hard into the ground.

I figured that probably hurt a bit.

At the same time, the sky suddenly darkened. I looked up, puzzled, and saw an enormous strange bird sweep across overhead. In all my life, I'd never seen a bird that big.

Its wings blotted out the already-dim sunlight.

The monk asked me again, “Are you afraid?”

I shook my head.

With the Great Sage and the monk around, what could I possibly fear?

“Third brother! Save me!” the White Elephant screamed desperately. The great bird plunged from the sky, diving straight at the Great Sage.

I thought three-against-one was hardly fair, and was just about to move, but the monk moved even faster than me. He kicked off the ground with a sudden burst—a crater formed where he'd been standing. When the bird swooped close, the monk smashed his fist into its face. The massive creature swayed, lost its balance, and crashed to the ground with a tremendous thud.

I thought it was over. But through the dust, a bird-headed demon slowly emerged in human form.

“Are you all here to die?”

Its tone was calm, yet I felt my hairs stand on end—well, if I had any hairs.

Because I'd never felt demonic energy this immense—stronger, even, than the Great Sage's.

The monk looked at his own fist with a hint of confusion, then his expression turned serious.

With the great bird's arrival, fresh reinforcements flooded in as well. Watching those noisy hordes of demons, I had no choice but to set down the horse I'd been leading.

The Great Sage was busy with the two big demon kings, the monk was dealing with the bird, so that meant I had to handle the smaller fry.

But soon, I began to wonder whether the monk had overreached himself.

It turned out the demons we'd fought while bursting into Lion-Camel Ridge were only a small portion—the ones that had come back with that great bird were far more numerous. All I could do was stay by the horse and try to shield it from harm.

The Great Sage was fiercely held in place by the Lion and the Elephant, while the monk gained no advantage in his fight against the great bird either.

My body was covered in fresh wounds by now, but I couldn't fall. I still had to carry the monk's luggage.

A figure flashed past my eyes, sending several demons flying. I stared in shock at the monk spitting blood. So monks bleed too?

The monk scrambled up, his face twisted with rage, and shouted at me: “Run!”

Old Fox had said that my greatest virtue is obedience.

And now was no different. Without a moment's hesitation, I hoisted the wounded horse onto my shoulders and tried to run, but the demons didn't seem willing to let me go.

Until an extremely long staff swung through, scattering the demons like scraps of paper.

Then the Great Sage's figure stood in front of me.

He glanced at me, said nothing—I understood his meaning. I carried the horse and bolted outward.

Behind me came the sound of another fierce, furious howl. I turned back and saw only the Great Sage, wielding his golden staff, fending off a swarm of demons as the two demon kings, like small mountains, pressed closer step by step.

Why didn't they run? I remembered the monk telling me: if you can't win, you run, then wait for the chance to take revenge.

For some reason, I felt like crying.

That figure was swallowed by the sea of thousands of demons.

But I couldn't stop. The monk told me to run, so I ran.

I ran for who knows how long—the landscape around me changed, yet I kept going. I needed to find a place to set the horse down, then go back.

Until I crashed into something warm and furry.

"Blockhead, what are you doing?"