Chapter 83: The Idle Man of Tiangong, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, Rages Through Tiangong

While Su Chen was in seclusion deep within the Yin Moon Star.

In Tiangong, his good brother Sun Wukong was growing increasingly bored.

At first, when he was first granted the title of Qi Tian Da Sheng, Sun Wukong had found it fresh and exciting.

He lived in a grand Da Sheng Mansion, attended by a host of immortal officials and clerks, and his outings were grand affairs—wherever he went, people respectfully called out, “Da Sheng.”

Back then, he thought this feeling was truly delightful.

But over time, he grew tired of it.

The title Qi Tian Da Sheng sounded imposing, but in reality, it was just an idle post.

The Jade Emperor had given him the title, but not a single ounce of real authority.

Every day, he did nothing but eat, drink, and wander aimlessly—there was not a single proper task to be had.

At first, Su Chen had kept him company.

The two would drink together, boast and joke, and it wasn’t lonely at all.

But since three years ago, when Su Chen left a message saying he would enter seclusion to cultivate, Sun Wukong became a solitary figure in Tiangong.

And within the Da Sheng Mansion, those immortal officials and clerks all bowed and scraped before him, but every word they spoke was empty formalities—polite to the point of being utterly insincere, with no real conversation possible.

When Sun Wukong invited them to drink, they all panicked, waving their hands frantically, saying, “We dare not, we dare not!”

And Tiangong forbade its immortals from descending to the mortal realm at will.

Sun Wukong had tried several times to return to Huaguo Mountain, but each time he was stopped by the Four Heavenly Kings guarding Tianmen.

He was naturally restless—when he ruled Huaguo Mountain, he spent every day training his monkey troops, hunting, and playing, utterly delighted.

But in Tiangong, the rules were endless, and every immortal acted falsely solemn—it simply did not suit his nature.

“Sigh, this is so boring, utterly boring!”

One day, Sun Wukong lay on the grass in the back garden of the Da Sheng Mansion, a blade of grass between his lips, staring blankly at the sky.

“I wonder how my younger brother is doing in seclusion—it’s been nearly three years, and not a single sign of movement?”

He scratched his cheek, feeling a pang of longing for Su Chen.

“No good—I, Old Sun, must find some amusement!”

He leapt up with a fish-flip, somersaulted through the air, and exited the Da Sheng Mansion.

Where to go?

Sun Wukong pondered as he rode the clouds.

Go find Nezha?

No, no—that brat has been tightly watched by his father, Li Tianwang, who’s forcing him to train the heavenly troops and won’t let him leave easily.

Go find other familiar immortals?

Those fellows are all busy—either on duty or cultivating.

“Got it!”

Sun Wukong’s eyes lit up—he had thought of a perfect place.

“I heard the Lei Bu has a group of divine generals who bang drums and summon thunder every day—loud and lively. I’ll go see the spectacle.”

Having decided, he rode his somersault cloud straight toward the Lei Bu.

The Lei Bu was Tiangong’s vital department, in charge of thunder, lightning, clouds, and rain.

Before he even drew near, Sun Wukong heard a deafening “boom-boom-boom,” making his ears numb.

Above a vast expanse of cloud sea, thousands of Lei Bu divine generals, wielding thunder hammers and lightning whips, were practicing thunder formation drills.

At their head stood the chief deity of the Lei Bu: the Nine Heavens’ Supreme Thunder Proclaimer.

Watching the spectacle, Sun Wukong’s interest surged—he descended his cloud and strode forward boldly.

“Hey! You lot banging drums—quite the racket!”

His bellow, booming with vigor, instantly drew every eye.

The Proclaimer turned and saw Sun Wukong—his brow immediately furrowed.

Why did this monkey come here?

He knew well: this Qi Tian Da Sheng was a chaotic demon—wherever he went, peace vanished.

“If it isn’t the Da Sheng! What brings you here?” The Proclaimer, though inwardly displeased, maintained outward courtesy.

Sun Wukong leaned on his golden cudgel, carefree: “Nothing important—just saw your show and came to watch. Say, you guys bang away every day—could I join in?”

At these words, the faces of the Lei Bu divine generals darkened.

They were practicing divine thunder arts—Tiangong’s sacred duty—and this monkey called it “banging away.”

The Proclaimer’s face turned grim: “Da Sheng, you are mistaken. My Lei Bu serves at the Jade Emperor’s command, governing thunder across the Three Realms and maintaining cosmic order—this is no child’s play. How could we allow outsiders to toy with it?”

“Oh?” Sun Wukong perked up. “So you think you’re mighty? Perfect—I’ve been itching to fight. How about a little sparring?”

He slammed his golden cudgel onto the ground—the entire cloud sea trembled.

The Proclaimer’s face turned black.

This monkey was utterly insolent!

He was a legitimate Tiangong deity, a high-ranking official—how could he allow a wild monkey to run rampant on his own turf?

“Da Sheng, don’t push too far!” the Proclaimer roared.

“Push too far? How am I pushing too far?” Sun Wukong glared. “I just want to spar with you—what, are you afraid?”

His provocation was crude, but brutally effective.

The Lei Bu generals were all proud and haughty—they couldn’t endure this.

Immediately, a hot-tempered general stepped forward, thunder hammer in hand: “Monkey, don’t get cocky—I’ll take you on!”

“Good! Perfect!”

Sun Wukong rejoiced, swinging his golden cudgel and charging forward.

The outcome, of course, was inevitable.

Sun Wukong possessed an invincible body and immense divine powers—how could these ordinary Lei generals compare?

In just a few exchanges, the bold general was sent flying by a single blow from Sun Wukong’s cudgel—his thunder hammer flew from his grasp.

The other Lei generals, shocked and furious, rushed forward to surround him.

Sun Wukong grew fiercer with each strike, whirling his golden cudgel into an impenetrable storm of motion.

Soon, the Lei Bu camp was in chaos—men toppled, horses reared, everything in disarray.

Only when the Proclaimer himself intervened did he finally halt Sun Wukong’s rampage.

But even he could do nothing—after hours of fighting, he hadn’t even scratched Sun Wukong’s skin.

When Sun Wukong had finally had his fill, he laughed heartily and strode off without a backward glance.

Left behind were the Proclaimer and the stunned Lei Bu generals, standing frozen, faces ashen, trembling with rage.

Similar incidents had occurred frequently over the past three years.

Today he went to Lingguan Hall and challenged Wang Lingguan to a strength contest.

Tomorrow he stormed the Dou Bu, demanding to duel the Dou Bu generals in martial arts.

He had nearly turned the entire Tiangong upside down.

The immortals were furious and resentful—but they had no way to stop him.

Finally, on this day, during court assembly.

In the Lingxiao Palace, led by Wu De Xingjun, a group of immortal officials stepped forward together.

“Your Majesty!” Wu De Xingjun accused, “We humbly beg Your Majesty to punish the Qi Tian Da Sheng, Sun Wukong!”