Chapter 358: Another Me, Equally Doomed!

Sun Wukong's mind was a Blank.

The vast killing intent and Heaven-blazing anger fire instantly receded, overwhelmed by a more absurd emotion.

He stood there, stunned.

His gaze locked onto the corpse atop the mountain of corpses, a corpse that made even Divine Soul tremble.

How could this be?

How could it be himself?

A wave of dazedness hit him—could he have already died without realizing it?

Is this place, then, the destination after death?

No!

Sun Wukong bit hard through the tip of his tongue.

Intense pain surged, and his consciousness instantly cleared.

He lowered his head and glanced at the figure in his arms; Yao's breath was weak, yet utterly real.

He pressed his hand to his chest again; that Monkey Heart was pounding wildly.

He was still alive.

So… who is that up on the summit?

Sun Wukong flickered and appeared atop the corpse mountain piled from dozens of demon god corpses.

He stood before that corpse.

Up close, he could see it even more clearly.

His body stiffened once again.

There's no mistake.

Really, there's no mistake.

That withered face was his own.

That aura of unruliness, defiance, and stubbornness that still seeped from the bones even after countless ages of death was exactly his own.

Sun Wukong reached out, trembling, and touched the corpse's icy skin.

No warmth, only Deathly Silence.

His gaze slowly drifted down, landing on the all-too-familiar Golden Armor.

The armor was already shattered, its divine light gone, its surface riddled with huge gaps blasted by terrifying power.

He then looked at the Tiěbàng clenched tightly in the corpse's hand.

It too was broken, snapped cleanly into two even halves.

The break was smooth as a mirror, as if sliced by some indescribably sharp thing in a single strike.

Defeated.

Another 'himself' had also been defeated, and miserably so.

Defeated to the point that even his most beloved weapon was broken.

An indescribable sorrow and the chilling grief of a rabbit's death felt by a fox seized Sun Wukong's heart.

He barely contained the shock near bursting in his chest as he walked past this corpse of his own.

He needed to keep moving forward.

He wanted to see what else lay hidden in this damned god-demon burial ground.

However, after taking fewer than a hundred steps, his foot halted again.

Ahead, he saw another corpse wearing the same Golden Armor.

Clutching a broken golden Tiěbàng.

With a face identical to his own.

Boom!

Sun Wukong's pupils contracted sharply, and he charged forward like a madman.

No mistake, it was him again.

And this 'himself' seemed to have died even more miserably.

Half his body had actually been replaced by a strange metal.

Countless icy components and wiring, sparking with electric arcs, snaked out of the mangled wound like venomous snakes,

and fused brutally with his bones and meridians.

He seemed to have pursued a path fusing technology with a god-demon body, but he too had failed.

Sun Wukong's heart sank sharply; without pausing, he continued to rush forward madly.

Soon, the third, fourth, fifth…

More and more 'Sun Wukong' corpses appeared before his eyes.

These Sun Wukongs varied in form, their deaths myriad.

Some had twelve black demon wings sprouting from their backs, wings that blotted out the sky and burned with unextinguishable hellfire; their eyes, even in death, still revealed a fallen devotion to the demonic path, a heaven‑toppling ferocity that would rather die than repent.

Another Sun Wukong wore a tattered monastic robe.

He had not collapsed but sat cross‑legged, maintaining a meditation pose.

On his person, Sun Wukong even sensed a trace of infinitesimally weak, already shattered Buddha light.

It seemed that in some unknown time‑space, a version of him had ultimately chosen to take refuge.

Perhaps to protect something, or perhaps having seen through the mortal world.

But no matter which path they chose.

Regardless of whether they are gods, demons, or Buddhas.

The ending is always just one.

Death.

They die here.

Their manner of death is identical.

The smooth, finger-thick pitch-black blood hole at their brow is so shocking.

Everything they had, their Dao, their unwillingness and hope...

All of it is mercilessly devoured and erased by that void.

Sun Wukong's steps gradually slowed.

He no longer runs, merely walking numb step by step.

He walks past corpse after corpse of "himself".

His heart sinks little by little, into the bottomless icy abyss.

He finally understood.

This place is not only the burial ground of the three thousand Chaotic Demon Gods.

This place is also a graveyard burying countless "Sun Wukongs".

A thought that made his whole body chill suddenly popped into his mind.

The existence hidden behind the scenes seems to have a morbid, special "fondness" for the identity of "Sun Wukong".

He is like a cruel collector.

He has captured, from all parallel worlds, every "Sun Wukong" who dared to resist him, who dared to point that staff at him, and brought them all here.

Then, he executes them in the same way.

He treats their corpses as trophies, displaying them in this blood-colored cemetery.

What a perverted possessiveness this is.

And what a cruel display of arrogance this is.

"Heh... hehe..."

Sun Wukong suddenly laughed, a laugh uglier than crying.

He laughed at himself for once thinking he was some chosen son of heaven, the last hope of his master.

After all this fuss, he and those cold corpses on the ground are no different.

He is merely another defective product on the assembly line, about to be recycled.

An unprecedented despair, like icy seawater, instantly engulfed his divine soul.

However, just as he was about to be completely consumed by this despair.

Sun Wukong's gaze suddenly sharpened.

A more bizarre detail appeared.

All the corpses, whether the massive Chaotic Demon Gods like mountains or these varied "selves", retain their final pose at death.

Their bodies, their heads, their eyes filled with unwillingness and hatred...

All actually face the same direction.

They were not engaged in a lawless, chaotic slaughter.

They seemed to be launching a desperate charge toward a common goal.

Then they fell along the path of that charge.

That direction...

Sun Wukong's heart jumped violently.

He no longer paid heed to the endless bones beneath his feet, and suddenly lifted his head.

Following the direction indicated by the myriad gods and demons, and the countless "selves" with their lives and deaths, he looked that way.

Upon seeing that, Sun Wukong's breath ceased completely.

He saw, at the end of this blood-soaked battlefield, where the gray sky meets the reddish-brown earth.

A gate immense beyond any measure stood there, silent and towering.

The gate is utterly black, as if forged from the purest void.

And upon the gate, billions of thick chains of law, as large as galaxies, are wound.

Each chain exudes an aura of order and finale that makes the heart tremble.

They intertwine and wind around each other, sealing the gate tightly.

What, is that?