Too Generic

Wukong's figure sped forward, followed by a group of Buddhist disciples whose cultivation mostly hovered around the Nascent Soul stage, heading straight toward the Pudu River.

The group wasn’t particularly large—just over twenty people.

He had long been aware of the news from the Western Ox Continent, but his earlier involvement with Donggua’s mission had likely been detected by the demons lurking within the Buddhist sect. The affairs of the Western Ox Continent were beyond his ability to influence or decide.

By comparison, his solitary return to the Buddhist sect was dangerous enough as it was.

Wukong’s reappearance in the sect drew no attention—no inquiries, no scrutiny. Everything seemed to have returned to calm, as if the Buddhist sect remained unchanged, with no one sparing him a second glance.

He was still just a wandering disciple, free to move about as he pleased.

He had braced for an impending storm, only to find clear skies instead.

The good news was that his life was likely safe for now. The bad news? Most of his secrets had probably been exposed, while he remained blind to the truth.

Wukong stood in the light, while the hidden Buddhists lurked in the shadows.

This peace wasn’t what he had hoped for, but at least it didn’t last long before he was thrust into the heart of the gathering storm—the Western Ox Continent.

By order of Runan, the Present Buddha of the Great Thunderclap Monastery, Wukong was to lead a team across the Pudu River and join the three sects in rescuing the Western Ox Continent.

That was the official decree from the Buddhist sect.

But the tasks assigned to Wukong were far from what the decree suggested.

Before arriving at the Pudu River, three Buddhas had sought him out privately, each entrusting him with additional missions.

For example, investigating the three sects’ every move in the Western Ox Continent—whether they were probing the Buddhist sect’s other activities, gauging the opinions of mortals toward Buddhism, and so on.

Some tasks could be spoken of openly, others not.

The Western Ox Continent was, after all, a core interest of the Buddhist sect.

And as more worldly Buddhas emerged, the sect had grown less pure.

In the past, facing pressure from the Profound Sect, their only goal had been to secure a place among the Eighteen Immortal Sects. But that very pursuit had stripped the Buddhist sect of its former purity.

Even though these worldly Buddhas had reached the Tribulation Transcendence stage, they remained shackled by the pursuit of profit.

So, the Buddhas who came to assign him extra tasks weren’t necessarily demonic—greed alone was enough to drive them.

Regardless, he had now been pushed to the forefront.

Wukong understood clearly—this was both a test and a probe.

At the Pudu River, Huang Miao still stood guard. How he, a mere disciple, would approach this, what attitude he should adopt, even whether he could cross the river at all—all of it was part of the assessment.

Facing this trial, Wukong had no confidence whatsoever.

It wasn’t impossible for Huang Miao to cut him down with a single stroke of his sword.

Though his thoughts were tangled, he had no choice but to confront the situation head-on.

The affairs of the Great Thunderclap Monastery would have to be left to that Buddha. For now, his priority was to return alive from the Western Ox Continent before worrying about anything else.

Wukong’s gaze fixed on the Pudu River ahead, where he could see Buddhas accompanied by Arhats and Bodhisattvas, their golden light spreading like a sea of clouds. And there, standing on the river, was Huang Miao—his aura razor-sharp yet suffocatingly heavy.

Without hesitation, Wukong transformed into a streak of light and shot toward the river.

At the riverbank.

Wukong first bowed to the Buddha Yuangui, who dared not set foot on the Pudu River. This Buddha was one of the worldly ones—most who acted on the sect’s behalf were.

But even as a worldly Buddha, Wukong, as a disciple, still had to pay his respects.

The True Buddha Yuangui had been locked in a standoff with Huang Miao over the river—though "standoff" wasn’t entirely accurate. The moment Yuangui so much as touched the water, Huang Miao would draw his sword without hesitation.

Huang Miao had even issued a warning—not a single drop of this river would be touched by the Buddhist sect.

Knowing he was no match, Yuangui had no intention of throwing his life away. But with a retinue of Bodhisattvas and Arhats behind him, retreating now would mean utter humiliation.

Both were Tribulation Transcendence cultivators, though the gap in strength was undeniable. But once dignity was lost, it couldn’t be reclaimed. Among the many Buddhas, Yuangui’s standing was already low, and he was the newest addition to the worldly Buddhas.

So, aside from calling for reinforcements, all he could do was endure Huang Miao’s mocking gaze.

Now, at last, someone had arrived—though only a disciple. The Great Thunderclap Monastery seemed to be backing down, but at least he wouldn’t have to stand alone on the shore, too afraid to step onto the river.

Even if this disciple was instantly slain by Huang Miao, at least his retreat would be justified.

True Buddha Yuangui motioned for Wukong to rise. Too drained for anger, he didn’t vent his frustration on the disciple, who was in a similarly precarious position. Instead, he offered advice:

"I’ve received Runan Buddha’s message. Huang Miao is merciless. If he refuses to heed Runan’s order, don’t force your way across. I’ll explain the situation to Runan on your behalf."

Wukong bowed again. "My thanks, True Buddha Yuangui."

Yuangui gave a slight nod.

"Go. If things turn dire, I’ll cover your retreat."

Wukong straightened and signaled for the Buddhist cultivators behind him to halt.

"I’ll go alone. If I succeed, I’ll call for you."

With that, he strode toward Huang Miao.

True Buddha Yuangui narrowed his eyes, focusing intently as Wukong stepped onto the Pudu River’s surface…

Perhaps because the newcomer was just a disciple—hardly worth a Tribulation Transcendence cultivator’s notice—Huang Miao didn’t cut him down immediately.

Yuangui’s gaze followed, his divine sense stretching out to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Wukong moved slowly, stopping about a hundred meters from Huang Miao before clasping his hands in salute.

"This disciple is Wukong. An honor to meet you, Senior Huang."

Huang Miao looked him up and down, then spoke with deliberate mockery—likely aimed at Yuangui:

"You’ve got nerve. Even a Buddha doesn’t dare set foot on this river, yet here you are, a mere disciple, walking right on."

"Perhaps it’s because my cultivation is too insignificant to catch your attention," Wukong replied, trying to save face for Yuangui. He didn’t dare engage in small talk—this man’s words alone marked him as a master of veiled barbs.

Wukong retrieved a Buddhist missive from his spatial ring—personally inscribed by Runan and stamped with the seal of the Central Continent’s Buddhist sect—and extended it forward.

"I come under Runan Buddha’s orders, leading a team to the Western Ox Continent to bring peace to its people."

Huang Miao said nothing, simply summoning the missive with a flick of spiritual energy.

His eyes scanned the document. Though its words were righteous, they were hollow—devoid of critical details, even glossing over the Western Ox Continent’s plight.

Huang Miao let out a derisive chuckle before crushing the missive in his grasp.

Wukong’s expression darkened.

That missive represented Runan’s dignity. Destroying it was no different from slapping Runan in the face.

True Buddha Yuangui’s golden light surged from the shore, ready to shield Wukong if needed.

Huang Miao’s gaze swept over Wukong. "A joke. Even if he came in person, he wouldn’t cross this river. Did he think a scrap of paper would change that?"

Wukong remained silent, refusing to engage.

Yuangui’s protective light was already rushing toward him.

Huang Miao cast a disdainful glance at the fidgeting Yuan Guizhen Buddha and spoke indifferently:

"However, today you may pass."

The Buddha's radiance stilled, and his gaze turned astonished.

Wukong also wore a puzzled expression.

A faint smile played on Huang Miao's lips:

"Someone mentioned you before. His words carry far more weight than the Runan Buddha Scroll."

"For his sake, I won’t make things difficult for you."

Wukong was momentarily speechless.

Chu Xingchen’s influence… truly knew no bounds.