Master Zhangjing
The dying sunset bled from the sky, and darkness rushed in to take its place.
In that dark, light only burned the brighter.
Sun Wukong's golden pupils slowly dilated. A single faint and pallid point. One evening star, shining in the heavens.
Venus.
A voice spoke up without warning.
"Well, the Bodhisattva must have faith in Teacher Sun."
Sun Wukong's head turned. There was no one there. No shadow, either. Instead, beneath the wall, a cat of black fur sat in the shade, its distinctive pupils flashing. Sun Wukong was not startled in the least.
"Master Zhangjing. It has been a long time."
Sun Wukong offered a courteous greeting.
Had Ojeong witnessed it, his eyes would have gone round as saucers. The manner, the voice — both were extraordinarily respectful.
Taebaek Geumseong, Li Changjing.
Sun Wukong's great patron. A man who could be called a friend, who had given aid countless times along the pilgrimage. The most magnanimous soul in the Celestial Realm, a figure of universal respect. When all of Heaven had clamored to put Sun Wukong to death, he alone had argued for offering the monkey a post and winning him over, and he had always shown him kindness.
Even the monkey who hurled curses at Guanyin treated Taebaek Geumseong with genuine respect.
"You said the Bodhisattva trusts me?"
"She placed more faith in Teacher Sun than in Erlang Shen."
A cat speaking like a person was an absurd sight, but Sun Wukong knew well that Taebaek Geumseong was merely borrowing the animal's mouth, and so he carried on the conversation without a second thought.
"More faith in me than in Erlang Shen? That can't be right."
"Of course, objectively speaking, Erlang Shen — with his absolute loyalty — would seem the more trustworthy choice."
"I don't follow your riddles, Master Zhangjing."
"Teacher Sun. What I mean is that this is a task Erlang Shen cannot perform."
Erlang Shen was, without question, the foremost warrior of the Celestial Realm. Even the great Sun Wukong acknowledged his martial prowess.
"Erlang Shen is exceedingly powerful. But the source of his strength lies in the Celestial Realm. He has rooted everything he is in Heaven. When he descends to the mortal world, he cannot help but be caught in the constraints of the divisions the Tathagata laid upon the worlds."
"That Tathagata really did a number on things. Made it so you can barely use your power at all."
"But you, Teacher Sun, are different."
"Different...? Ah."
In that instant, lightning tore through Sun Wukong's mind.
The yoryeok that had returned to him after he descended to the mortal world.
"Yoryeok doesn't belong to Heaven."
The cat's ears perked. Its face looked almost as if it were smiling.
"Precisely. Precisely. Teacher Sun's yoryeok originally belonged to the mortal world. To the world that was once the domain of demons and monsters."
Only then did Sun Wukong understand why Guanyin had specifically chosen him.
Celestial power was constrained in this place. But yoryeok had always been rooted in the mortal world. And where, after all, had the internal energy that humans used come from? Was it not the remnant yoryeok that, over the long passage of time, had been refined and seeped into the very fabric of nature itself?
"So what this job needed wasn't the gods of Heaven."
Guanyin's influence in the Celestial Realm was vast. A few words from her, and any number of beings would obey — the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King, Prince Nezha, Erlang Shen, and countless others.
The problem was that they, too, could not wield their full power in the mortal world. Not in a world ruled by supreme masters whose strength rivaled the great demons of old.
In the end, what this task required was—
Sun Wukong clenched his fist.
A sinister energy burst from between his clenched fingers — wicked, clinging, and utterly destructive. A sensation he had not felt in a very long time.
It was as if he had returned to those days when nothing in the world could frighten him — and the feeling, unexpectedly, made him afraid.
"Yoryeok is a wicked thing. Even daoists of fine character, even Buddhist monks, have been swept up in demonic energy and fallen to corruption. What if I became a great demon again? The great demon of those days? There would be no one left who could stop me. My origin is a monkey demon — the Golden-Haired Hou, the Handsome Monkey King, the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong."
And unlike those days, the gods of Heaven could not come flooding down.
The cat made a small mewling sound and licked its own paw.
"The Bodhisattva has faith in Teacher Sun's indomitable will."
Faith, she says...
Well now.
When was it? She had said she believed in him on the road to India, too.
A strange feeling came over Sun Wukong, and he looked up at the sky. He had fully intended to burn Mount Potalaka — where her relics were kept — to the ground.
"Well..."
He decided he would settle for smashing a few statues.
Sun Wukong looked down at his hand once more. A clenched fist. Red energy seeping between the fingers.
Yoryeok. Yoryeok.
Yoryeok had no technique, no artifice. It was destruction itself. All it possessed was the nature to trample, to tear, to smash. To devour those born weaker than itself. That was the source of the savagery in every demon.
And yet humans, even with this refined remnant of yoryeok, had honed it further still, converted it into internal energy, created martial arts, and opened a new age — unlike the demons, who had used yoryeok for nothing but devouring others.
"Internal energy rooted in yoryeok — and martial arts built from that internal energy."
Sun Wukong's mind spun. Thoughts flashed through him in rapid succession. Ojeong's movements in the water. The swords Namgung Jeok and Namgung Seon had wielded. The swift, cruel mid-range techniques Sa Hyeol-cheol-gwi had commanded.
Martial arts.
A method of wielding power in the form of martial arts. Sun Wukong, who had originally possessed no internal energy, had never paid it much mind. But now, in this moment when the yoryeok of a great demon had returned—
If martial arts were invented from internal energy in the first place...
Then with yoryeok, which was all but the origin of internal energy...
Couldn't I use them too?
Using martial arts through yoryeok.
A faint smile touched Sun Wukong's lips.
Contrary to how others saw him, Sun Wukong hungered for learning more than one might expect. He had knelt before Patriarch Subodhi and begged for instruction. He had studied the Buddhist dharma under Sanzang even while finding the man disagreeable. He had read through countless Daoist and Buddhist scriptures.
To learn without cease, to hone himself, to press ever forward. That, too, was a face of the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.
Sun Wukong's eyes flickered faintly. Having ordered his thoughts, he looked back at the cat.
"Then will you keep helping me, Master Zhangjing, as you did on the road to India?"
"Ah, what are friends for, if not to help one another?"
The cat meowed.
"However, I can only speak through this cat's mouth on nights like tonight, when Venus shines brightly. Given the constraints that divide the mortal world from Heaven, the fact that you manifested here in your original body at all is a miracle in itself."
"Is that so."
So he can't stay at my side all the time.
Still, the thought of having gained his greatest ally brought a smile to Sun Wukong's face unbidden. He slipped his hands between the cat's front paws and its plump little body and hoisted it straight up.
"Then we shall meet again when the time is right, Teacher Sun."
"Ah, take care, Master Zhangjing. I'll be back in Heaven soon enough — let's share a drink."
"The Jade Emperor's wine, I presume?"
"How did you know that?"
"His Majesty was furious that every wine vat prepared for the banquet had been emptied."
"Ahaha. Ah, and pass a word along to Taeshang Laojun for me."
The cat tilted its head.
"Tell him to keep better track of his things."
"His things...?"
"The Seven Star Sword."
"The Seven Star Sword — that's Taeshang Laojun's treasure, is it not? The one that once fell into demon hands and gave Teacher Sun no end of trouble."
"Fragments of the Seven Star Sword are circulating in the mortal world as we speak."
"...Heavens. So Taeshang Laojun has made a blunder."
"Tell him I'm looking into it, and that I'll be collecting a proper fee later."
"Understood, Teacher Sun. I shall be sure to pass it on."
"Safe travels, Master Zhangjing."
Sun Wukong felt Taebaek Geumseong's voice leave the cat's body. He gathered the cat into his arms just as he was. Through the conversation with Master Zhangjing, he had glimpsed a possibility.
Hmm. Before that, maybe I should break someone of their peeping habit.
Sun Wukong's head snapped around. A presence, revealed beyond the dim wall.
He spoke in an indifferent voice. Whether from the influence of yoryeok or not, the flat tone resonated like a voice in a cave.
Indifferent — and yet arrogance lay coiled beneath it.
Muhwa's hair streamed wildly behind her.
Qinggong pushed to its absolute limit, unfurling in solitary grandeur — a momentum as if she were pursuing the stars themselves.
What in the world is this presence...
Urgency surfaced on her face. It had lasted only an instant, but some colossal energy had swept through the surroundings and then vanished. Every hair on her body had stood on end. It had been thick, clinging, and thoroughly sinister.
Where had it come from?
Fortunately, she had been passing nearby. The Elegant Courtyard — and within it, Sun Wukong's quarters.
Muhwa's face hardened.
So there really was something.
Arriving at the Elegant Pavilion in a single breath, Muhwa drew a deep inhalation and killed her presence. She flooded her entire body with tension, ready to draw her blade at any moment, and carefully peeked her head over the wall.
"Huh?"
In an instant, the tension drained away. An unexpected scene greeted her.
A stray cat?
A thoroughly mismatched spectacle unfolded. The massive Sun Wukong, bent at the waist, locking eyes with a cat. The cat kept meowing. Sun Wukong muttered something in reply, matching its rhythm — as if the two of them were actually having a conversation.
Muhwa was bewildered. She stared at Sun Wukong. He was still talking to the cat. He even smiled faintly, as if something amused him. Then, without warning, he hoisted the cat up and shook it, playing with it.
Did I... imagine it?
Had her nerves simply been too raw? In the sight of Sun Wukong playing with a cat, there was no trace of the energy that had swept through moments before.
Then it happened.
The wind grazing her skin turned sharp. Beneath a steadily darkening sky, in a silence without a single light, a red circle flashed. It took her a moment to register what it was.
Eyes burning like fire, and within them, pupils flashing gold.
Eyes...
Those eyes stared directly at Muhwa. In that instant, energy surged through her entire body. In the grip of instinctive alarm, the inner power stored in her dantian raced along her meridians at tremendous speed.
Only then did Muhwa grasp the situation. Sun Wukong was looking straight at her. Her instincts had registered danger. She had drawn up her internal energy without even realizing it.
The moment she understood, shock hit her.
From the first time she had seen him, she had never felt any sense of danger from Sun Wukong's face — and now it looked like the face of some monstrous fiend, a god of slaughter. He had always been taller than her, but now he seemed larger still. Was this what the giant Pangu of myth had been like? The pressure of a giant standing before her made her heart seize.
It was, without question, a pressure she had never felt before. The hand she had rested on her scabbard, ready to draw at any moment, went rigid as stone. Muhwa's form swayed, as if she might collapse then and there.
If she could not hold on any longer, she would...
— Meeeow.
"Hah."
The cat nestled in Sun Wukong's arms cried out. As if it had all been a lie, the force pressing down on her vanished in an instant. It dissipated like smoke, so completely she wondered if she had fallen into a hallucination. Muhwa crumpled onto the top of the wall.
With a somewhat pale face, she looked at Sun Wukong. His gaze rested on her steadily, as if he had known all along.
He noticed I was hiding my presence a long time ago.
That indifferent face. Muhwa bit her lip.
Just a moment ago, he had looked like a malevolent demon, a god of slaughter. Or like a divine general descended from the heavens, impossibly vast. But now he was ordinary.
No — not ordinary at all.
The eyes. Those steadily indifferent eyes were not the eyes she had seen before. Not the drowsy, childishly mischievous eyes from the front gate, from the great hall.
Muhwa swallowed dryly.
Sun Wukong's mouth opened.
The voice was ice-cold.