Chapter 359: Before the Gate, Resentment Revives!

Sun Wukong's breath halted.

His eyes locked fixedly on the far end of that blood‑stained battlefield.

At the junction where the grey sky meets the reddish‑brown land, a colossal gate that no measure could gauge stood silently.

The gate was utterly black, unlike any known substance, more like an absolute "void" forcibly carved out of the real universe.

It reflected no light; even a divine sense probing it would be mercilessly swallowed, as if that place were the end of all things, the tomb of everything that exists.

Upon the gate, countless grey chains as thick as galaxies wound around it!

Each chain was not material but a concrete manifestation condensed from the purest "Negation" law.

The rust‑spot on Sun Wukong's arm that was corroding his Dao body emitted an aura that, compared to those chains, was like a stream versus an ocean.

The chains interwove, tangled and knotted, sealing, binding, and suppressing that black gate tight.

They cut off all contact with the outside world and eliminated any possibility of anything emerging from within.

Thud!

His heart gave a violent thump.

It was not fear, nor shock, but a resonance springing from the deepest reaches of his blood and divine soul.

A resonance eerily familiar, yet so painful it made him unable to breathe.

That feeling…… came from behind this gate.

Master!

Master's Dao Heart!

Sun Wukong's eye sockets instantly turned crimson.

He clearly sensed that the one snatched from before his eyes and dragged into endless darkness by the enemy,

the last trace of his Master's Dao Heart was sealed inside this damned gate.

His gaze swept over the corpses of gods and demons littering the ground, then returned to the gate, finally settling on that inseparable shared trust in his heart,

a single thought pierced through all the clues.

This so‑called Wanshen Fenchang, this blood‑colored graveyard burying three thousand demon gods and countless "selves," is certainly no trophy display.

It is a massive sacrificial formation.

One fueled by the resentment of three thousand Chaotic Demon Gods and the myriad unwillingness of countless "Sun Wukongs," driving an eternal suppression—a desperate prison.

And at the core of that prison lies his Master's Dao Heart, which has endured all ages without regret!

"Heh…"

"Hehehehe…"

A hoarse, dry laugh spilled from his throat, brimming with endless self‑mockery.

He laughed at himself for still feeling heartache over his Master's Dao Heart, when in truth he was merely another cold corpse about to join this graveyard.

He was no different from the resentful demon gods beneath his feet or the various incarnations of "himself."

They, all, were offerings.

All were prepared as endless fuel to torment his Master.

That behind‑the‑scenes scoundrel not only seeks to suppress his Master, but also to force the Master to watch, helplessly, as the hope he painstakingly created

collapses in despair before him, one after another.

and then turns into the shackles that bind him himself.

This is the most vicious heart‑rending torment.

"Old scoundrel…"

Sun Wukong lifted his head; his blood‑red eyes shed all emotion, leaving only an absolute calm colder than this silent graveyard.

He whispered softly:

"I don't care what you are…"

"I don't care how many copies of me are buried in this graveyard…"

"Today nobody shall dare to touch a single hair of my Master!"

As the words fell, he suppressed the surging emotions that threatened to burn his reason to ashes.

He hoisted the broken golden Tiěbàng, and step by step, with unwavering resolve, walked toward the massive black gate.

He walked slowly, each step as if treading on the corpses of countless "selves," bearing the failures and despair of myriad ages.

But he did not stop.

His blood‑red eyes locked firmly onto the gate's rear, where the faint beat of his Master's heart lingered.

That was his everything.

Ten thousand zhang.

Five thousand zhang.

Three thousand zhang…

As he drew nearer to the gate, the aura of "Negation" that permeated the air grew denser,

as if countless voices screamed wildly in his ears, urging him to give up, to despair, to choose resignation like the corpses around him.

A grim, sneering smile curled the corner of Sun Wukong's mouth.

Resignation?

Those two words have never existed in Old Monkey's dictionary.

One thousand zhang.

At the moment when his foot was about to step into the gate, within the final thousand‑zhang radius, a sudden change erupted.

Boom—!!!

The entire ancient battlefield, this god-demon graveyard that had lain silent for hundreds of millions of years, suddenly began to violently tremble without any warning.

Cracks spread across the reddish-brown ground, and bottomless black canyons frenziedly spread beneath Sun Wukong's feet,

It seemed as if something terrifying beyond compare was about to burst out from the deepest depths of the earth.

Immediately after, the countless corpses of Chaotic Demon Gods lying on the ground, and the countless remains of 'Sun Wukong' still holding their charging poses,

at this moment all of them moved simultaneously.

Then, strand after strand, endless black-as-ink resentment madly drifted off from their corpses.

Those resentments carried the boundless hatred of the three thousand demon gods slain by a single finger,

the endless unwillingness of countless 'Sun Wukongs' whose charges failed, and the most vicious curse against the hidden mastermind behind it all.

These negative emotions, which should have dissipated with the river of time, were forcibly imprisoned here by the power of the 'Negation' law upon that gate.

The accumulation of hundreds of millions of years, the sedimentation of hundreds of millions of years—how terrifying that resentment is.

At this moment, they seemed to be summoned by some invisible force, emitting a silent screech,

madly converging from all directions toward that black gate.

Sun Wukong's footsteps stopped.

He narrowed his eyes, coldly observing this strange scene before him.

Endless black resentment gathered before the gate into a viscous ocean deeper than a black hole.

Within the ocean, violent turmoil began, and an immeasurably huge outline slowly took shape within it.

Countless painful wails came from that sea of resentment—the roars of demon gods, the cries of countless 'selves'.

Whoosh—

An arm assembled from the arm bones of a Space Demon God suddenly thrust out from the sea of resentment.

Next came three ferocious skulls belonging to the Nine-Headed Dragon Devil.

Then the shattered chest of the Metal Demon God, forged from eternal divine gold.

Countless broken limbs of demon gods were brutally sewn and spliced together by an invisible great hand.

A horribly twisted, grotesque monster brimming with chaos and madness,

was crawling out of that sea of resentment bit by bit before Sun Wukong.

And when the enormous skull, composed of countless twisted, painful 'Sun Wukong' faces, slowly lifted,

Sun Wukong's pupils contracted once more into the most dangerous pinpricks.

This monster, this monster formed from pure resentment and malice fused together, its core……

beneath the countless demon god limbs and the wailing faces of countless 'selves,'

Sun Wukong clearly saw a pulsing mass……pure, absolute 'malice'.

He had seen this monster before.

Boom——

A memory nearly forgotten exploded forth from the depths of his divine soul.

It was in Hongjun's Purple Cloud Palace, that bizarre stitched-together creature that Hongjun had released from some 'Old Prison'.

The monster he had personally smashed into sky‑scattering fragments with a single blow.

It……it actually isn't dead?!

No, that's wrong.

It did die—indeed, it was killed by his own hand.

But its remains, its resentment, that core of absolute malice, were reclaimed by that old coot lurking behind the scenes.

Then it was reused.

Just like recycling a piece of trash, it was thrown here, thrown into this resentment forge that feeds on the three thousand demon gods.

It was allowed to merge with these older, vaster resentments, becoming stronger and more terrifying than before.

It was made into the guard hound that watches over this final gate.

Becoming, after that withered monk, the second……'Apostle'.