Chapter 393: Golden Betrayal

Despair is the best fertilizer.

Sun Wukong stood in Wanshen Fenchang, watching helplessly as black torrents from all directions converged, one after another drilling into the chains of the gate.

The chains were drinking.

After drinking their fill, they grew thicker.

Growing thicker, they became stronger.

Those chains that had originally been suppressed by his Chaos Dao began to swell, one by one,

emitting a dull humming, like a group of well-fed parasites, wriggling contentedly.

What was even more deadly were the golden divine chains he had added himself.

Those golden divine chains he had forged, root by root, staking his lifelong Dao Fruit, now had a problem.

They were not destroyed.

They were being swallowed.

They were being infiltrated, bit by bit, by the surging black despair, which permeated and changed their color bit by bit.

The gold was receding.

Not flaking off, not breaking, but like fabric soaked in dye, starting at the edges and moving inward, rotting inward, turning into a dull, deathly hue.

Sun Wukong stared at this scene, and a 'buzz' rang in his head.

He understood.

The power he used to reinforce the prison was becoming part of the prison itself.

Those golden divine chains representing Order, originally his means to suppress the power of Negation,

were now being used by the despair energy as a catalyst, bit by bit twisting the essence of Order awry.

Order was being distorted by Negation.

Every ounce of strength he expended to reinforce the prison was helping the enemy digest the despair's nourishment.

"Damn."

This word slipped from between his teeth; even he himself hadn't expected his tone to be so calm.

So calm it was chilling.

The next second, he punched the ground.

The ground was a pile of bones of ancient demon gods, extremely hard, but this punch shattered it on the spot, creating a deep pit, bone fragments flying, the cracks at the pit's bottom extending outward three zhang.

The back of his hand split, oozing black-gold divine blood.

But this pain, compared to the void in his heart, was nothing.

"We can't go on like this!"

Yao rushed to his face, eye sockets red, voice trembling.

"The chains are changing! Your divine chains are being assimilated! If this continues, we won't be able to hold onto anything!"

Sun Wukong said nothing.

He raised his head, staring fixedly at that door.

The door still stood.

Behind the door, his Master's Dao Heart was still beating.

He extended his divine sense to feel the door, and the beat of that Dao Heart weakened by a fraction, feeble as the last wick of a candle in the wind.

He knew.

He damn well knew.

Staying here, his Master couldn't endure.

Those torrents of despair kept surging, endless, the universe too vast, too many dead civilizations, too much despair.

Relying only on him and Yao guarding here was defending a lost cause.

But leaving here to go slaughter those harvesting disciples, cutting off this supply line,

no one would be left to guard here.

"The Original Mistake" awaits his departure.

It is waiting for exactly this.

Waiting for him to leave, then it will pounce, fully seize this gate, and drain that Dao Heart dry.

Two paths, either way leads to death.

Sun Wukong squatted down, placed his hand on the ground, head lowered, silent.

The 'Great Sage Equal to Heaven' who made the Three Realms retreat, at this moment his feet seemed nailed to the ground, unable to move a step.

If he leaves, what will become of his Master?

If he stays, what will become of the whole universe?

These two mountains weigh heavier than Hongjun's Judgment Spear, pressing on his heart, letting him taste for the first time an unfamiliar flavor,

not fear.

but helplessness.

that helplessness of wanting to protect everything yet being able to protect nothing, the most agonizing kind.

"Sun Wukong."

Yao squatted down, grabbed his wrist, her voice hoarse.

"Tell me what to do."

He raised his head, glanced at her.

Yao's eyes were red, tears held back in her sockets, not falling, she just stared fixedly at him.

Sun Wukong opened his mouth, wanting to say something, then swallowed the words back.

He stood up, walked to the door, and pressed his palm against it.

The door was cold.

That cold was not a temperature, but a bone‑piercing, despairing cold.

He could feel that the Dao Heart behind the door was still holding on.

It was holding on with great effort.

"Master."

He said it with his divine sense, not with his mouth.

"I'm still here."

Behind the door, it sank a little, then a barely audible echo came through, like a finger poking his way through countless layers of darkness.

Just that.

Sun Wukong closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the two chaos vortices in his eyes had already calmed down.

He turned his body and looked toward Yao.

"How long can you hold on now?"

Yao froze for a moment, then gave a bitter smile.

"Hold on until you come back."

Sun Wukong nodded, no more nonsense.

"Guard the Master."

He hoisted the Chaos Dao iron on his shoulder and turned.

"I didn't tell you to risk your life; I told you to stay alive and guard."

He said it as he walked, his tone flat, as if stating an ordinary trivial matter.

"Use your Illusory Dream Grand Dao to put a layer between him and those desperate things, so they don't touch him directly. You don't need to fight; just being there is enough."

Yao caught up two steps: "And you,"

"I'm going to choke off the water pipe."

Sun Wukong stopped, without turning back.

"Those apostles, those supply lines—someone has to cut them."

"One person?"

"It's not the first time."

Yao still wanted to say something, but Sun Wukong's tone left her no chance to speak.

"Listen," his voice lowered a bit, "'Original Mistake' is waiting for me to leave this place. What it wants is to stare at me being toyed to death by it, and to have the Master watch."

Yao's face turned a shade paler.

"So once I leave, it will have to follow."

"You mean..."

"I am the bait."

He said it lightly, as casually as mentioning what he planned to eat today.

But hearing it, Yao felt her chest tighten, unable to speak.

Sun Wukong finally turned his head back.

Just that.

A hint of a smile, not quite a smile, tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"If it follows me away, this place will be quiet; you guard the Master, and you'll be safe."

"If it doesn't come,"

"It will come."

His tone carried a strange certainty.

"It hates me more than it hates anything else."

Having said that, he lingered no longer and stepped forward.

The Chaos Dao iron rested on his shoulder, his steps treading on the bone fragments of Wanshen Fenchang, emitting a steady sound, step by step, walking toward the void.

Yao stood there, clutching the hem of her skirt, her fingertips turning white.

Those black chains were still pulsing.

The desperate flood was still gathering.

The Dao Heart trapped behind the door was still beating.

Very faint.

But it was beating.

She took a deep breath, slowly spreading her Illusory Dream power like a thin net of light, gently covering that door.

Just then.

In the distant void, a golden light shot up into the sky.

Then, a voice crossed hundreds of millions of miles, exploding into this deathly silent burial ground.

"Withered old thing!"

"Tell your master, I'm here!"

As the words fell, Yao felt it.

That pressure, which had always shrouded the entire Wanshen Fenchang and belonged to the Original Mistake, suddenly moved at this moment.

It was moving.

It really was moving.

It moved in the direction Sun Wukong had gone.

Yao was stunned for a second, then what surged in her heart—she didn't know whether it was joy or an even deeper Fear Heart Demon.

It really had gone away.

But immediately, the entire Wanshen Fenchang shuddered violently, and the golden divine chains on the gate, which had already been half-dimmed, after losing the suppression of the Original Mistake's main body, emitted a huge hum.

Then, a crack as fine as a hair appeared on the gate. Yao's heart plummeted.

That crack was very fine.

So fine it was like a scratch made by a fingernail; if you didn't look closely you wouldn't notice it.

But Yao stared at it and felt the crack breathing.

It opened and closed, opened and closed.

Each time it opened, a wisp of black, rotten air seeped out.

"No."

Yao gritted her teeth, pressed all the Illusory Dream power onto it, pressing against that crack.

The light net tightened, Yao's face instantly paled, and a trace of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.

The crack did not expand.

But it also did not heal.

It just remained stuck like that.

Yao knew this wasn't good.

She could hold on for a moment, but not forever.

Those desperate torrents kept pouring into the chains, the chains kept thickening, and the gate kept bearing pressure.

This crack was just a beginning.

She lifted her head and glanced in the direction Sun Wukong had gone.

Over there there was no golden light anymore.

Only pitch-black void, and from afar a faint, huge rumbling sound.

He was striking.

He was striking fiercely.

Yao withdrew her gaze, refocused all her attention on that crack, closed her eyes, and said softly a sentence.

"Come back quickly."