Chapter 12: Displaying Divine Powers Brings Disaster, the Patriarch Expels the Monkey King

Su Chen’s unease soon became reality.

Since Sun Wukong mastered the Seventy-Two Transformations and the Somersault Cloud, he had become like a mischievous child with a precious jade, always eager to show it off to others.

Su Chen had subtly advised him several times to temper his nature and avoid revealing his abilities, lest he invite disaster.

Sun Wukong had promised well enough on his lips, but his unruly disposition was not something easily changed.

Every day, while cultivating in the mountains, he transformed into an eagle to catch rabbits or into a great beast to play with wild animals, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Fortunately, he remembered Su Chen’s warnings and dared not act recklessly in front of Master Wu Ming and the other senior disciples.

Yet what was meant to come could not be avoided.

One day, after the Patriarch finished his lecture, the disciples chatted idly beneath the pines before the cave.

No one knew who started it, but the conversation gradually turned to Sun Wukong.

A disciple who was close to Sun Wukong asked, half-curious, half-flattering: “Brother Wukong, you’ve trained under the Patriarch for years and received his true transmission—what marvelous arts have you learned? Could you let us behold them?”

At these words, all eyes instantly fixed on Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong, by nature fond of showing off, could not withstand such praise and encouragement.

He initially refused a few times, saying he dared not embarrass himself before his senior brothers, but seeing their growing curiosity, his competitive spirit could no longer be contained.

He rolled his eyes, grinned, and said: “Alright then, since my senior brothers wish to see, Old Sun will put on a show. But you must keep it secret—don’t let the Master find out.”

Everyone eagerly agreed.

Sun Wukong stepped proudly into the center of the clearing, chanted a spell, and transformed.

There was a soft *crack*, and where the monkey had stood, a tall, sturdy pine now stood in its place.

The pine’s branches were lush, its needles emerald green, its bark rough, indistinguishable from the real pines around it—even the scent of pine resin was perfectly imitated.

“Excellent!”

“Marvelous!”

The disciples burst into applause, cheers and exclamations ringing together.

Though they too cultivated, none had ever seen such an astonishing transformation technique; they all circled the pine, marveling in awe.

Wu Ming stood outside the crowd, watching this scene with a complex expression.

He was awed by Sun Wukong’s divine power, yet felt a quiet unease.

Su Chen stood at the back, his heart sinking—he thought, *This is bad.*

Just as the cheers reached their loudest, a cold voice suddenly cut through the noise.

“Wukong.”

Only two words, yet they carried an uncanny power, instantly silencing the entire gathering.

Everyone turned—and saw the Patriarch standing behind them, his face grim.

“M-Master…” Sun Wukong startled, quickly reverted to his original form, bowed his head like a child caught misbehaving.

“Tell me, what are you doing here?” The Patriarch’s voice was calm, yet every soul present felt the pressure of a storm gathering.

“I was… chatting with my senior brothers…” Sun Wukong stammered, too afraid to speak the truth.

“Chatting?” The Patriarch sneered. “Did I teach you these arts so you could flaunt them before others?”

He swept his gaze over the disciples and continued: “When others see your power, what will they do? They will envy you, and come begging you to teach them. If you teach them, you betray heavenly secrets and secretly pass on the Dao. If you refuse, they will harbor resentment—and who knows, one day they may harm you. Is this not inviting disaster upon yourself?”

Sun Wukong was left speechless, sweat pouring down his brow.

The Patriarch looked at him, his tone now resolute: “Leave.”

“Master!” Sun Wukong shot up, face filled with disbelief.

“I can no longer tolerate you here,” the Patriarch turned away, back to him, his voice devoid of any emotion.

The disciples were stunned—none had expected the Patriarch to expel Sun Wukong over such a “minor” matter.

“Master! I know my fault! I’ll never do it again!” Sun Wukong fell to his knees, clutching the Patriarch’s leg, wailing: “Please, Master, show mercy! Forgive me this once!”

But the Patriarch’s mind was made up.

He lightly swept his sleeve—a gentle yet irresistible force pushed Sun Wukong away.

“Our master-disciple bond has run its course. Wherever you go henceforth, trouble will follow. But no matter what calamity you bring, never say you are my disciple.”

The Patriarch’s voice turned harsh, radiating unchallengeable authority.

“If you utter even a single word of it, I will know. And then, I shall flay your skin, grind your bones, cast your soul into the deepest abyss, and condemn you to endless eons of torment.”

These words struck Sun Wukong like thunderclaps.

He knew—the Master truly no longer wanted him.

He knelt there dazed, tears streaming uncontrollably.

He could not understand—why was he being cast out just for turning into a tree for his senior brothers to see?

Su Chen stood among the crowd, watching this scene, his heart filled with conflicting emotions.

He knew this was Sun Wukong’s destined tribulation, but he never expected it to come so soon.

He looked at the weeping monkey—the one who had come to the same master with him, cultivated beside him, who once jumped in anger when he was wronged—and a deep ache rose in his chest.

Finally, Sun Wukong wiped his tears. He knew further pleading was useless.

He bowed three deep, reverent bows toward the Patriarch’s retreating back.

Each bow struck the stone slab with a heavy, dull thud.

When he rose, he did not look at anyone else—only walked straight to Su Chen.

“Little brother, I’m leaving,” Sun Wukong’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red.

Su Chen looked at him, a thousand words caught in his throat, finally reduced to one: “Big Brother Monkey, take care.”

“Mm.” Sun Wukong nodded heavily. He tried to grin as he used to—but it looked worse than crying.

He slapped Su Chen’s shoulder hard.

“Little brother, you take care too. When Old Sun makes a name for himself out there, I’ll come back and find you!”

With that, he turned, leapt into the air, summoned the Somersault Cloud, and vanished in a streak of golden light.

Su Chen looked up at the empty sky, feeling as if a part of his heart had been hollowed out.

That loud, boisterous figure was gone.

Mount Lingtai Fangcun now lacked its restless, scratching monkey king.

He let out a long sigh.

With Sun Wukong’s expulsion, the entire Xieyue Sansheng Cave fell into oppressive silence.

The disciples dared not breathe, each one frozen in fear.

Just as the disciples trembled in dread, the Patriarch gathered them all again in the Lecture Hall.

Su Chen’s heart leapt to his throat.

Standing beside Wu Ming, he stared at the inscrutable figure seated upon the cushion ahead.

The Patriarch’s gaze slowly swept over every disciple, lingering just a moment longer on Su Chen.

After a long silence, he spoke, his voice calm and distant.

“I opened this cave to take disciples only to fulfill a destined bond. Now, that bond is ended. All matters here are concluded.”

“From today onward, Xieyue Sansheng Cave is disbanded.”

At these words, the hall erupted in shock.