Donggua's face was ashen. Falling into the hands of the Tianyan Sect or the Taidao Sect would probably be no better.
But no matter how unwilling she was, her body could only follow closely behind Wukong.
They didn't race through the sky but flew at low altitude — not particularly fast. Perhaps Wukong also wanted to keep a low profile.
Donggua was pondering how to broach the subject when she felt something light and white drifting down. She looked up and saw snowflakes falling gently.
Beyond the scattered flakes, the landscape stretched out in an endless blanket of white.
Looking into the distance, she realized the trees had withered across a vast stretch.
It dawned on her — was it already winter?
Time had passed so quickly. It felt as though there'd been no time to do anything at all, and yet another year was gone.
Wukong noticed Donggua's distraction and glanced sideways at her.
Startled by his gaze, Donggua snapped back to reality. Perhaps it was the freezing snow, but her heart had gone cold as well. She dropped all pretense of tact and opportunity, and spoke in a flat voice.
"We're already in Central Continent. If you're going to send me to my death, the least you could do is tell me what's really going on."
"You always think the worst of me."
Wukong's face was perfectly serene.
"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have stopped that person back then. You would have died quite naturally."
"At the very least, a hundred years of studying the Buddhist dharma wasn't for nothing. I have no particular need to send you to your death."
Donggua sneered. "You throw on a kasaya, mutter a few Amitabhas, and suddenly you think you're a Buddha?"
Wukong turned to look at Donggua with genuine earnestness. A faint golden glow began to emanate from his body.
Donggua felt a chill run down her spine. Was this monk about to attack her right now?
But Wukong simply spoke.
"Amitabha."
With that, Wukong accelerated, leaving Donggua standing there with a stunned expression.
The hostility on Donggua's face grew steadily more intense. She glared with pure resentment at Wukong's receding figure.
This monk was clearly toying with her.
Heh...
This dead monk had no idea — if you don't leave others a way to live, don't expect them to leave you one either.
She wasn't that generous. If she was going to die anyway, to hell with the Demon Race's grand cause — she'd drag this wretched monk down with her!
Donggua made a silent vow. If it came to it, she would take this damnable monk to the grave with her.
For the rest of the journey, Donggua said nothing. She simply followed behind Wukong in silence, letting him go wherever he pleased.
Wukong's route was strange — he would periodically circle back, pause at certain spots for a while, and then set off again.
It was almost as if he were deliberately stalling.
Donggua scoffed inwardly. Ordinarily, she would have tried talking again, but now she didn't say a word.
After several days of travel — despite the detours — their general direction became clear.
Donggua gradually realized where Wukong was heading: the Tianyan Sect.
——————
Huaping Cloud Sea.
This was the starting point of the Tianyan Sect's direct sphere of influence.
The waters were shallow, reaching only about waist height, and stretched on in an unbroken expanse. Occasionally the water broke into marsh-like divisions, but overall it remained connected.
Withered lotus leaves lay draped across the water's surface. Their grayish-yellow hue was barely visible beneath a dusting of white snow — from a distance, they looked like white lotus pads quietly awaiting the bloom of white lotuses.
The river hadn't frozen yet and still flowed. Snowflakes landed on the surface and swiftly melted into the current.
What had once been a landscape of decay was now completely hidden beneath the snow.
Wukong paid no attention to Donggua's perpetually ashen expression, nor to her silence — the absence of her usual pleas and arguments.
He surged forward, heading toward a place etched in his memory. Moments later, a dilapidated little Buddhist temple came into view.
The temple was bizarre.
It sat on the only patch of flat ground amid a vast, watery marsh. Aside from the temple, there were no other structures — just a small river nearby, with a few broken boats moored along its banks.
The perimeter wall was absurdly tall — even taller than the small pagoda inside the temple grounds — and it was clearly well-maintained. Patches and repairs on the outer wall were plainly visible.
The temple itself, however, was the exact opposite. Everything was decrepit. Even the sole main hall had holes in its roof that no one had bothered to fix.
A large tree with green leaves still clinging to its branches had taken root near the hall. It was enormous — its spreading limbs had actually punched through the roof and grown into the interior.
Donggua's single sweep of the premises told her everything she needed to know.
The dead monk in this rundown temple had somehow found the time to maintain the outer walls but couldn't be bothered to fix the living quarters or deal with the tree breaching the main hall.
It was as bizarre as Wukong himself.
The whole setup was strange, but Donggua couldn't care less. She had no desire to understand why anyone would do things this way.
When it came down to it, those monks only knew how to spout impractical nonsense — lofty-sounding platitudes that seemed profound on the surface but were utter bullshit when you actually examined them.
Let go. Don't interfere. That's how it should be.
To hell with that.
If that's how things should be, then everyone should just go die — preferably taking this wretched Wukong along with them.
Donggua's thoughts churned in silence. Suddenly, Wukong's voice sounded beside her.
"Your mind is deep and calculating, yet you can't even control your own expression anymore. The hatred is practically written across your face."
Donggua recovered and looked at Wukong. She didn't answer — she just let out a scoff.
Wukong's figure moved toward the strange temple as he spoke again.
"Your heart is haunted by demons, so you see everyone as a potential killer. Why not try letting go of your prejudices and trusting me?"
"Heh..."
Donggua gave a cold laugh.
"If you had any sincerity, you would have told me everything from the start. Instead, you dragged me through a fog all the way here, and now that we've arrived — now that I'm about to go die — you tell me to trust you."
"What do you take me for?"
"An idiot? A fool? Or something worse?"
Wukong's feet touched down in the center of the courtyard. He looked at Donggua, who had landed beside him.
"Some things can only be said once we've arrived."
Wukong sighed softly and walked toward the tightly shut hall doors.
Donggua stood motionless, her face still wearing that cold sneer. Without any courtesy, she sent her divine sense sweeping brutally into the temple.
Wukong raised a hand. Spiritual power surged around him, and golden light flared as he directly shattered Donggua's invasive divine sense.
"It's quite lively outside. But this is just a broken temple — there's nothing that can't be seen. If our guest wishes to look, let her look."
A deep, hoarse voice echoed from within the hall. Then the great doors swung open.
An ancient monk with a benevolent smile stepped into view. His robes had been washed so many times they had faded to a pale, clean white — his kasaya was the same.
He first nodded to Wukong, then turned his gaze to Donggua. His eyes narrowed slightly, but in the end, he simply gave a small nod.
Wukong pressed his palms together in a Buddhist greeting and was about to speak, but the old monk cut him off.
"Everything can wait until we're inside."
With those words, the ancient monk turned and disappeared into the temple.
Wukong followed him in.
Donggua remained rooted to the spot, her cold sneer still in place.
A moment later, Wukong's voice drifted out from within the hall.
"Come in. Otherwise, don't blame me for using Buddhist arts to invite you in."
Donggua let out a scoff — but at that moment, golden light flared inside the temple.
Her sneer died instantly. Certain less-than-pleasant memories surfaced.
Fine. Consider it giving this dead monk one last face before he dies.
Donggua stepped through the gate. As her eyes swept across the interior, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed her mind...
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