I just became the Pirate King, and you're telling me I also time-traveled at the same time.

He took the peach away from his mouth and chewed it twice.

The chewing sound was loud, crunching like chewing a stone.

"It's sweet," he said.

Upon hearing those two words, tears welled up in the one-eyed old monkey's intact eye.

Monkey tears are different from human tears; they are transparent but stickier. When they flow down, they form a long thread. When the thread breaks, it falls onto the stone and shatters into several small droplets.

Sun Wukong twirled the dried peach in his hand, then pulled something out of his pocket—a small cloth bag tied around his waist. Chu Yang had assumed it contained dried rations.

Sun Wukong opened the cloth bag and poured out a handful of peach pits.

The peach pit was fresh, with a little bit of peach flesh still clinging to it. It was left behind after Sun Wukong picked and ate the peaches when they passed by a peach orchard last time.

He placed the peach pit in his palm, spread it out, so that every monkey could see it.

"Plant these," he said, "and then we'll have peaches to eat."

The monkeys swarmed up, and each monkey took a peach pit from his hand.

Some took one, some took two, and some little monkeys couldn't get any and were squeaking anxiously behind them.

Sun Wukong squatted down and distributed the remaining peach pits in his palm to the little monkeys who hadn't managed to get any, one pit at a time. When he got to the last one, there was still one little monkey looking at him longingly with its palm empty.

Sun Wukong looked at his hand—it was empty.

He thought for a moment, then took the golden cudgel out of his ear, twirled it in his hand, and it turned into a needle. He used the needle to scratch the peach tree next to him, and the bark was cut open, revealing a peach pit.

He wiped the peach pit on his collar and placed it in the little monkey's palm.

The little monkey held the peach pit, spun around three times with joy, and then ran off with the peach pit in its arms, probably to find a place to plant it.

Chu Yang stood to the side, watching Sun Wukong squatting on the ground distributing peach pits to the monkeys.

When Sun Wukong squats down, his shoulders hunch and his back bends, making his whole figure appear smaller. He doesn't look like the Great Sage Equaling Heaven standing on a cloud, but more like a father who has just returned from a trip to bring candy for his children.

Chu Yang looked at him for a while, then turned around and walked out of the stone gate, walked to the edge of the peach grove, and stood there looking at the sea of ​​clouds below the mountain.

The sea of ​​clouds was thick, a vast expanse of white, stretching from the foot of the mountain all the way to the horizon.

Several mountain peaks emerge from the sea of ​​clouds, like isolated islands in the ocean. Trees grow on these islands, floating in the sea of ​​clouds like green boats.

Looking at the mountains, Chu Yang suddenly thought of a question—could Su Wanwan deal with that thing with four arms by herself?

He didn't know why he thought of that thing at this moment.

Perhaps it was because when Sun Wukong was examining the monkeys' bones, the sliver of golden light that pierced the young monkey's head reminded him of Su Wanwan, the moonlight emanating from her, and her five tails.

Su Wanwan is in Qiyue Ridge with Bai Xi by her side. Bai Xi is very strong, stronger than Su Wanwan and Sun Wukong combined. But that thing—that thing with four arms, skin so thick that even the Golden Cudgel can't penetrate it, and a crack on its face—is in the inner tomb of Qiyue Ridge.

Su Wanwan will have to face it sooner or later, and may have already already.

Chu Yang took his hand out of his sleeve and looked down at it.

His hands were covered in calluses, his knuckles were thick, and the lines on his palms were indelible with dirt and bloodstains.

His hands could do many things—he could wield a knife, kill people, and walk for months in the wilderness without getting lost.

But his hands couldn't help Su Wanwan hit that thing.

That thing is in the inner tomb, deep in Qiyue Ridge, where the fog is thickest.

He can't get in.

He put his hands back into his sleeves, looked up, and continued to gaze at the sea of ​​clouds.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

Sun Wukong walked over and stood next to him, also looking at the sea of ​​clouds.

The two little monkeys on Sun Wukong's shoulders returned, one on each side, tugging at his hair and their tails wrapped around his shoulders like two living scarves.

Sun Wukong didn't chase them away, nor did he even care about their existence, as if it were a natural thing for them to grow on him.

"These are all the monkeys I have left," Sun Wukong said calmly, but Chu Yang could hear something deeply suppressed in that calmness. "When I left more than four hundred years ago, I entrusted the mountain to the Bull Demon King, one of the seventy-two demon kings."

The Bull Demon King is my brother.

He said he would keep watch for me.

Later, when I was imprisoned under the Five Elements Mountain, he came by once.

"and then?"

Then he said that the heavenly soldiers burned down Flower Fruit Mountain.

The monkeys either died or fled, and he only managed to rescue a few dozen.

He hid them at the foot of the mountain, sealed the entrance to the cave, and left them enough food to last them for ten years.

He didn't come back ten years later, because he had been captured by the Heavenly Court.

When Sun Wukong said these things, he spoke as if he were telling someone else's story.

He gazed at the distant sea of ​​clouds, his eyes flashing with golden light, like lightning within the clouds.

But the two little monkeys on his shoulders sensed something—they shrank back, tightened their grip on his hair, and made low, uneasy squeaks.

Sun Wukong reached out and touched their backs twice, and they stopped crying.

“More than four hundred years,” Sun Wukong said. “They have been hiding in the mountains for more than four hundred years.”

He can't cultivate himself, he can't fight, and he avoids even the wild wolves in the mountains.

I, Old Sun, am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Even my monkey subjects would avoid a wild wolf.

He said the words "go around" very softly, but Chu Yang heard something louder than thunder in that softness.

Chu Yang remained silent for a moment before speaking.

His voice was soft and steady, as if he were saying something very simple and straightforward.

"Then teach them."

Sun Wukong turned his head and looked at him.

"Teach the five who can cultivate from the beginning," Chu Yang said. "For those who cannot cultivate, find a way to enable them to cultivate as well."

If all else fails, teach them self-defense skills.

Now that you're back, you have time.

You don't need to rush to anywhere.

Sun Wukong stared at Chu Yang for a long time.

The two little monkeys on his shoulders also looked at Chu Yang, their four round eyes full of curiosity.

Then Sun Wukong smiled, but not the wide grin he used to have. It was a very faint smile, with the corners of his mouth curving just a little bit, almost invisible unless you looked closely. But something loosened in that little curve, like a rope that had been twisted for too long finally loosening a knot.

"Chu Yang," Sun Wukong said.

"Um."

"You're starting to sound more and more like my master."

Chu Yang didn't respond to that.

He turned and walked back to the flat ground, took out a dagger from his sleeve, squatted down, and began to draw something on the ground.

He drew a horizontal line, below which he drew several small circles, and next to the circles he drew some wavy lines.

He was drawing a topographical map of Flower and Fruit Mountain—horizontal lines represent mountain ridges, small circles represent peach orchards, and wavy lines represent waterfalls.

After he finished drawing, he drew a square next to the waterfall, and inside the square he drew a small cross.

"Make a flat area here," he said, pointing to the square. "It's for practicing martial arts."

Monkeys that cannot cultivate themselves should first strengthen their muscles and bones.

"With a solid foundation in physical fitness, even without cultivation, one can still survive in this mountain."

Sun Wukong walked over, squatted down next to him, and looked down at the drawing he had made.

He looked at it for a while, then stretched out his finger and drew another square next to the first one. Then he wrote a character in the square he drew. Sun Wukong didn't know many characters, but he recognized some of them.

The character he wrote was crooked and the strokes were all squeezed together, but you could still make out that it was the character "桃" (peach).

"Let's plant another peach orchard here," Sun Wukong said. "If we have enough peaches, they won't have to run all over the mountain."

If you don't run, you won't encounter wolves.

Chu Yang nodded and put a checkmark on the square drawn by Sun Wukong.

Two little monkeys jumped off Sun Wukong's shoulders, squatted on the ground, and looked down at the lines and circles drawn on the soil.

They couldn't understand it, but they looked at it very seriously, their two heads close together, ears touching, occasionally pushing each other, as if they were discussing which circle looked better and which line was drawn crookedly.

That afternoon, Sun Wukong and Chu Yang started working.

Sun Wukong used his golden cudgel to clear a flat area next to the waterfall.

The golden cudgel grew several times larger, swept across, snapped bushes, sent wild grass flying, and rolled stones aside.

He didn't use any magic when he did these tasks—or rather, he didn't use any magic intentionally; he just used the stick as a hoe and a sickle.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, seeping from his brow and trickling down his cheeks, washing away the dirt and creating two shallow furrows on his face.

Two little monkeys followed behind him, dragging the bushes he had swept down one by one to the side. For those they couldn't drag, they used their teeth to pull them, making whimpering noises, their tails taut and straight.

Chu Yang was repairing the cave on the other side.

He knocked all the broken stalactites off the cave ceiling, swept away the rubble, and filled the cracks in the cave walls with stones and soil.

The old blue-eyed monkey followed him, handing him stones.

When Chu Yang struck the stalactite, the old monkey hid far away, covering his ears and squinting his eyes.

When Chu Yang was filling the cracks, the old monkey came over and used its front paws to help him tamp the soil down.

Its claws patted the mud with practiced ease, as if it were doing this for the first time, or as if it had done it with someone else many years ago.

They worked until sunset, and the flat ground and caves were all finished.

Sun Wukong stood on the newly cleared ground, looking at the flat and solid land beneath his feet, and nodded in satisfaction.

Chu Yang emerged from the cave, his clothes covered in dust, his hair streaked with pebbles, and his face marked with streaks of black and white.

He walked to the pool below the waterfall, squatted down, and scooped up a handful of water to wash his face.

The water was very cold, and the splash on his face made him shiver.

After washing his face, he stood up and shook the water off his hands.

The monkeys gathered on the other side of the pool, also drinking water.

The older generation should let the younger generation drink first, and only after the younger generation has finished drinking should the older generation drink.

The one-eyed old monkey stood at the very back. Only after all the other monkeys had finished drinking did it walk to the water's edge, scoop up a handful of water with its front paws, bring it to its mouth, and take a sip.

When it drinks water, it squints its single eye, and the wrinkles on its face gather together, as if it is tasting the water.

Chu Yang looked at it, took out some dry rations from his sleeve, broke them into small pieces, and placed them on a stone by the pool.

The monkeys swarmed over, each taking a small piece in an orderly fashion without fighting. Once they had a piece, they retreated to the side to eat.

Chu Yang noticed that they had their own set of rules for distributing food—the smallest ones took first, and the largest ones took last.

This is different from the monkeys down the mountain, where the strong eat first and the weak wait for the leftovers.

The monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain are not like that.

Their rules are not the law of the jungle, but the rules of their own group.

Watching the monkeys quietly dividing their provisions, Chu Yang suddenly understood why Sun Wukong, after being imprisoned under the Five Elements Mountain for five hundred years, returned to Flower Fruit Mountain as his first act upon release.

It's not because there are peaches here, nor because there's a Water Curtain Cave, but because there's a group of monkeys who have been waiting for him for over four hundred years.

it's dark.

Sun Wukong sat on the stone steps at the entrance of the cave, gazing at the moon in the sky, which was gradually becoming fuller.

Moonlight spilled into the peach grove, making the peach leaves shimmer with a silvery-white glow.

The two little monkeys on his shoulder were asleep, resting against him, breathing evenly, their furry bodies rising and falling slightly with each breath, like two small, warm bellows.

Chu Yang walked over and sat down next to him. There was no light or fire.

The monkeys inside the cave were asleep, their soft snores rising and falling like a melody composed of dozens of different notes.

The old blue-eyed monkey slept on its side closest to the cave entrance, its lame hind leg stretched out straight.

Sun Wukong reached out and touched the little monkeys on his shoulder very gently, afraid of waking them.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll teach them breathing exercises," Sun Wukong said in a very low voice, as if he were talking in his sleep. "We'll start with the very basics."

It absorbs the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and transforms into the essence of the sun and moon.

If you can learn something, then bring it to the door.

If you can't learn it, then train your muscles and bones.

"Who taught them to strengthen their muscles and bones?" Chu Yang asked.

"You," Sun Wukong said.

Chu Yang glanced at him.

"You are human," Sun Wukong said. "Humans have different bones and muscles than demons."

Demons are born with strong muscles and bones, while humans develop their strength through training.

Things that are developed through practice are more robust than things that are innate.

If they could train their muscles and bones using human methods, even if they couldn't cultivate demonic arts, they would still be stronger than the wild beasts in the mountains.

Chu Yang thought about it and did not refuse.

He looked down at his palms.

The calluses on my palms gleamed with a dull luster under the moonlight, like a layer of leather that had been worn countless times.

These hands have practiced with knives, with fists, and with every move and technique used to carve a path through the wilderness.

He's not very good at teaching people, but he can teach those things to these monkeys—no explanation needed, just demonstration.

Monkeys have a better ability to imitate than humans. They will do something once and then try to imitate it again. If they can't imitate it, they will do it again until they learn it.

"Okay," he said.

Sun Wukong did not say thank you.

He simply reached out and patted Chu Yang on the shoulder.

The pat wasn't hard, but when the palm landed on his shoulder, Chu Yang felt the temperature of that palm—it was warm, not scalding, not the kind of temperature that would set you ablaze, but a suppressed, restrained temperature, like a piece of charcoal wrapped in cloth.