Who knows, perhaps by the time it's his grandson's generation, that legendary wasteland in the Central State will be completely purified.
"Let's go... the food is getting cold." His wife gently tickled Brother Monkey's waist with her tail.
Brother Monkey stood there in a daze for quite a while just now.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming." Brother Monkey put away his iron rod, took off his big hat and held it in his arms, took his wife's hand with one hand, and with the other hand held a pigeon, walking in the direction of their home.
It wasn't the Water Curtain Cave by the sea cliff, but rather the near Thousand Mechanism Pavilion watchtower.
At present, these forest patrols all live in the tower, three groups per tower, taking turns on duty, guarding the tower, patrolling, and engaging in gathering and planting work.
