Chapter 280: The Temperature of Emotion, Ripples in the Cold Court

Sun Wukong's story continues to unfold scene by scene within the cold, empty Source of Ten Thousand Paths.

This is no longer a debate.

This even cannot be called a refutation.

This is the most brutal, most Irrational… emotional bombardment.

The logic constructed by Hóngjūn Dàozǔ is cold.

It is the sole correct answer derived from billions of simulations.

And Sun Wukong rips open his scorching heart without reservation.

He uses his life, full of flaws, regrets, yet endless radiance, to scorch that so‑called "correctness."

The scene shifts.

It is no longer the clashing of steel and iron horses, nor the heroic passion that pierces heaven and earth.

The scene becomes gentle.

It is a world where dazzling flowers bloom like peacock feathers.

He sees her.

Peacock Princess.

The woman, bright as a personified galaxy.

The silly girl who blushes at his single word yet would confront the heavens' gods and Buddhas to protect him.

In the memory's scene, a destructive beam capable of erasing stars, imbued with the ultimate Fixed Number power, silently pierces Sun Wukong's Dao foundation.

At that moment, all his mind and spirit are restrained by a stronger foe.

He cannot evade.

Yet a frail yet resolute figure stands before him.

It is her.

Peacock Princess.

She doesn't even glance back at him.

She simply spreads her arms, using her not‑very‑strong Illusory Dream Dao, to embrace the destruction that could erase her billions of times.

"I… won't let you… hurt him…"

In the light and shadow, her voice is as light as wind.

Yet it is heavy enough to make Sun Wukong's stone heart throb sharply.

The destructive light devours her.

There is no earth‑shaking roar.

Only an ultimate brilliance.

Her body, her Divine Soul, everything she is, turns into a sky‑filled rain of light, fluttering everywhere.

Each droplet of light rain contains the most intense, pure love of her life.

She dissipates.

Yet she transforms herself into the final barrier, protecting the monkey behind her.

In the light and shadow, Sun Wukong reaches out, trying to grasp the light rain.

But that warmth slips away grain by grain through his fingers.

That grief, intense to the extreme.

That heart‑rending love.

That resolve to self‑destruct rather than abandon the one he loves.

This massive yet pure emotional torrent slams into this cold Arbitration Ground!

"Bzz——"

A barely perceptible tremor.

This Source of Ten Thousand Paths, formed by absolute law, the ultimate court that has never wavered.

Yet, because of this emotion born from a long‑gone Living Being, a ripple has arisen…

As if the first scorching tear fell upon millennia‑old ice.

Hóngjūn Dàozǔ's complexion instantly turns hideously grim!

His cold logic can calculate billions of Universe births and deaths.

But it cannot compute the weight of this single tear!

His so‑called "order" can guarantee the Universe's perpetuity.

But it cannot explain why anyone would willingly abandon eternity for another "variable."

The Cosmic Pan-Consciousness's massive pupil, its internal torrent of data, showed a clear lag at this moment.

It seems unable to comprehend.

In its calculations, "love" is an inefficient emotion, one of the roots of chaos and war.

Yet now, the love it "sees" radiates a force that can even shake the Fixed Number.

This… exceeds its scope of understanding.

However, Sun Wukong's story has not ended.

The scene shifts again.

It is a Deathly Silence starfield, a junk heap called the Discarded Case Processing Site.

He sees the stone tablet.

He sees Master Bodhi Patriarch, having exhausted his last strength, leaving that line of characters.

"Defeated here, yet No Regret."

At that moment, Sun Wukong in the light and shadow was stunned.

He finally understood that his whole journey had not been alone.

Each of his rebellions, each Unyielding act, each time he pierced a hole in Heaven.

Behind it all, a solitary forerunner was guiding him.

That old man, with billions of failures, with billions of creation attempts that were "rejected", taught him what No Regret is!

A massive, life‑and‑death‑spanning will of inheritance thundered in Sun Wukong's heart!

This is the inheritance of Dao!

It is the passing of the Variable's torch!

Immediately after.

It is him confronting the Zeroers, choosing to embrace the torrent of billions of failed Universes.

It is him facing the mysterious Sovereign, protecting that newly‑born world with his own strength.

It is him fighting side by side with Yao on the Dream Realm battlefield, toying with the lofty enemy.

Scene after scene.

Filled with joy, anger, sorrow and happiness.

Filled with love, hatred, affection and enmity.

Filled with failure and regret.

Also filled with… hope and light!

These things all possess a scorching "emotional temperature".

And these, in Hongjun's universe sandbox built from "Order", are absolutely, absolutely nonexistent!

Hongjun's complexion grew increasingly grim.

From iron‑blue to pallid.

He discovered that his proud, self‑deemed ultimate truth of the Universe—his cold logic—

In the face of these scorching, uncertainty‑filled, yet vividly thrilling emotions,

appeared so… pallid and feeble.

Like a textbook full of formulas, attempting to define an ever‑lasting brilliant fireworks display.

Ridiculous!

Absurd!

In the massive pupil of the Cosmic Pan‑Consciousness, the raging data stream slowed more and more.

Becoming increasingly chaotic.

It seemed to strain with all its might, trying to "understand" and "compute" something it had never encountered.

What is happiness?

What is sorrow?

What is protection, again?

Why can the power unleashed by these undefinable "emotions" repeatedly shatter the shackles of the Fixed Number?

Finally.

All the scenes vanished.

Only the final scene remained.

That scene had no earth‑shaking events, no law collisions.

It was merely a quiet corner.

Sun Wukong, drenched in blood and transformed into the Chaotic Demon God, curled there like a wounded beast.

Then, an aged yet incredibly warm hand gently wiped the blood from his face.

It was Bodhi Patriarch.

In his gaze, there was no blame, no disappointment.

Only endless satisfaction and tenderness.

That gaze spanned time and space, piercing the light and shadow.

The warmth within seemed able to melt ancient mystic ice, to make this Deathly Silence's Source of Ten Thousand Paths bloom.

That was his Master, telling him.

You, have done well.

You are my proudest… work.

The light and shadow completely faded.

Sun Wukong withdrew all of himself.

He still stood there quietly, calmly watching the Cosmic Pan‑Consciousness that was almost in a "crash" state.

He said not another word.

Not even a single word was needed.

Because his attitude already expressed everything.

My story is finished.

Billions of cold "truths", and a scorching "story".

Now.

Arbiter.

Tell me your choice.