Eastern Victory Divine Continent.
Donggua stared with a rather vacant expression at the slowly rising sun before her.
She had now truly experienced what it meant for the world to be unpredictable.
It had been a full two years in this Eastern Victory Divine Continent, and she still hadn't managed to leave.
She was supposed to be someone with an organization backing her, yet she was now floundering about as if she had no backing at all.
The only thing that could move someone to tears was a top-grade genuine pig who wore a boar mask and constantly tried to take her down with it in mutual destruction.
She had originally thought that staying with this pig in the Eastern Victory Divine Continent — always on edge, always at risk of being liquidated by those above — would be maddening enough.
In Donggua's eyes, things had already reached the worst possible state. So bad that, in hindsight, Xigua's death had perhaps been a clean release after all.
The desire to survive and the fear of dying at any moment constantly intertwined within her heart.
This alone was already tormenting Donggua severely. But she never could have imagined that this wasn't the worst of it.
A monk had shown up from who-knows-where, claiming only that he had been sent from above.
Don't ask who sent him, and don't ask what his purpose was. It all came down to one line — I'm here to help you!
Then, as naturally as if they were old friends, he started asking questions about everything.
Having been through the ordeal with Cui Hao, and even though Chen Baiqing had previously given her a brief misleading spiel, Donggua still didn't trust this monk in the slightest.
And don't ask why she didn't just kill this annoying monk.
The reason was also quite simple — this monk was unreasonably good at fighting!
His Integration-stage cultivation was solid and hefty. Even with Donggua and the pig spirit working together, they couldn't last more than a few moves against this damned monk.
When the monk was in a good mood, his strikes were lighter. When he was in a bad mood, his blows were vicious.
The cruelest part was that when he went all out, he would actually recite sutras while beating them!
He was genuinely reciting Buddhist sutras — and with tremendous fervor!
One would see the monk glare, his Buddhist light flare up, and then he'd say:
"Your temper is far too great, benefactor! Let me recite some sutras for you two, to wash away that restlessness. Only then can you accomplish great things!"
He would fight and chant simultaneously.
Sometimes the howling fist winds would drown out the sound of his chanting entirely.
By the time they were too badly injured to move, the monk would begin treating their wounds.
Donggua couldn't understand how the world had come to this. How had it become like this?
She had reached a conclusion — ever since meeting Cui Hao, nothing in this world had been right.
They couldn't beat him and couldn't outrun him. Poison and stratagems were equally useless.
On the rare occasion something did work, once the monk caught them, it meant another thorough beating.
From this perspective alone, the monk did have traces of a demon about him.
Judging by the sheer force of his strikes, he didn't display even a hint of compassion.
Every few days, the monk would ask her and the pig spirit what their plans were. Donggua, whose organization had practically evaporated, could hardly have any plans to speak of.
She had once answered bluntly — no plans, just waiting to die, basically.
The monk would first try to persuade her, talking about how a true servant of the glorious cause should devote body and soul to the mission, and that giving up at the first sign of difficulty was no way to revive the demonic way.
Donggua naturally scoffed at this.
When the monk saw that persuasion wasn't working, there was a high probability he'd start throwing fists.
His philosophy was simple — a beast of burden that refuses to move just needs a good whipping.
Why else would they start cooperating the moment they got beaten?
Taking a beating once was fine, but they couldn't afford to get beaten at every meal.
Even the pig spirit had completely given up resisting. Every day, it would prattle about this and that, desperately trying to wheedle its way into a lighter beating from the monk.
In a way, they had indirectly found a method of coexisting with this monk.
Donggua gazed mournfully at the rising sun, still immersed in her grief, when the male voice she despised more than anything rang out from behind her.
"What are your plans for today? You've both been far too idle these past couple of days."
Donggua didn't dare turn around, fearing she wouldn't be able to control her expression and give the damned monk an excuse to pin her down and beat her again.
She could only try to keep her voice steady as she replied.
"Ask the pig. He's the one in charge now."
"He told me to ask you."
"He's the one in charge."
Wukong didn't respond directly. Instead, he slowly walked to Donggua's side and gazed at the slowly rising sun.
A light mist rose, transforming the landscape before them into something out of a painting.
He took a soft breath, slowly exhaled, and then spoke.
"I would rather not have to recite sutras for you in front of such beautiful scenery."
Donggua clenched her fists, her eyes blazing with hatred.
"What? Are you going to use me as your morning reading material?!"
"Not just you." Wukong shifted his gaze to Donggua. "Both of you. Since you're a woman, I'll let you choose — do you want to be the wooden fish or the wooden fish mallet?"
Donggua took two deep breaths, fighting the urge to punch the monk. Through gritted teeth, she said.
"You've been following us this whole time — haven't you realized that we genuinely don't know anything anymore?! If you have some plan, just tell us and we'll listen to you — isn't that enough?!"
Wukong's tone was calm. "There is nothing you don't know — only things you don't want to do or find out. My mission is to assist you, not to give you orders."
"What I can do is use my own methods to help you learn a thing or two when you're at a loss."
Donggua rose to her feet as well. The anger that had been building over these days surged upward, and she spoke sharply.
"Even if you use me as your morning reading today, I still—"
BOOM!
Wukong slowly retracted the golden light from his fist, his gaze settling on Donggua, who was now embedded in a massive tree after snapping two trunks on her way in.
"My Buddha is merciful, but He cannot bear to hear such words of sloth and ambitionlessness."
Donggua was painfully wedged into the tree. The monk's fists weren't particularly heavy — at least, not for someone with her Nascent Soul cultivation.
What was vicious was the golden light infused into his strikes, which specifically targeted the most painful spots.
Wukong walked slowly toward Donggua.
"Without suffering hardship, how can one forge a resolute heart?"
"Those above have high hopes for you — that is why they sent me to assist. Yet after all this time, all you've done is idle the days away."
"Did you truly think I didn't know about all the excuses you've fed me? I merely wished to give you some room for repentance."
"I hold compassion in my heart — can you truly not see a trace of it?"
As he spoke, Wukong reached toward Donggua's face.
"If you are useless, then you are nothing more than a painted skeleton."
"And for painted skeletons, my Buddha's compassion offers no special treatment. He has always treated all equally!"
Golden light flickered on Wukong's fingertips as he drove it straight toward Donggua's skull.
Donggua immediately screamed and hastily shouted.
"I have things to do today! Let me discuss it with the pig spirit first — please?!"
Wukong stopped his movement at these words. He casually plucked Donggua from the tree trunk and tossed her to the ground, then looked toward a spot some distance away.
"Will you come on your own, or shall I invite you over?"
The man wearing the boar mask began walking slowly toward them from the distance.
Donggua propped herself up, breathing heavily, her gaze fixed on Wukong.
Wukong stood in place, the warm morning sun at his back radiating outward like a Buddhist halo. With hands clasped together and an expression of apparent compassion, he gazed down at the two of them.
He looked like a statue of a merciful Buddha standing right there.
"Discuss this properly. Today is my day off. Don't make me actually conduct morning class."
The voice of the merciful Buddha was plain and unadorned.
Hearing this, both Donggua and the pig spirit felt their consciousnesses jolt.
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