Chapter 394

The moment the golden light exploded in the void, Sun Wukong's mind didn't stop.

He bore the Chaos Dao iron, stood within the freshly torn spatial rift, his Fiery Golden Eyes operating at full power, laying out the whole Multiverse's situation to view.

Then he discovered that every path led to death.

Not the kind of death that's "hard to walk but possible."

It's the kind where, after all deductions, the result column contains only one character—death.

He can appear anywhere.

This is the divine ability of One Thought, Myriad Transformations; as soon as he thinks, the next second he can stand on the other side of the Universe in some world that is wailing,

and tear that withered monk or sewn‑together monster to pieces on the spot.

He can do it.

It is precisely this that prevents him from moving.

If he makes a move, that side is finished.

The true form of Original Mistake has never fully left.

It followed, but only as a fragment, like a shadow trailing behind him, hanging far away,

waiting for the moment he truly lets go to save someone; the remaining core then pushes back, tearing the seal, draining the Master's Dao Heart.

It is not in a hurry.

It simply wants him to face this choice question.

Sun Wukong stands motionless in the void, but the perception of 【Way of the Equal Heaven】 has already spread out hundreds of light‑years.

He saw it.

A blue planet, with a sun above half‑eroded by black vapors hanging in the sky, and the Living Beings below lifting their heads,

their cries reverberated through the atmosphere, yet no one moved, because moving would be useless; they all know it is useless.

He heard it.

A civilization broadcasting its final transmission, the anchor's voice unshaken, speaking in a very calm tone,

relaying the countdown to the civilization's extinction to every living person, like a weather forecast.

He even smelled it.

The resonance of 【Way of the Equal Heaven】 sent those messages into his Divine Soul, incredibly clear, so clear as if he were standing on that ruin,

with ash at his feet, his nose filled with the scorched, burnt‑dry odor of a certain race that, in despair, burned themselves clean.

Damn.

The word slipped out between his teeth, so light it was almost nothing.

It wasn't anger.

It was the suffocation of being overwhelmed by information.

Sun Wukong has struck Hongjun, tormented Original Mistake, turned Heavenly Dao into mush, but at this moment, he is bound dead here.

It's not a lack of power.

It's the position that's wrong.

One person guards one point, yet the things to protect are scattered in every corner billions of light‑years away.

He is like a person clutching a lifeline whose other end is tied to ten thousand people, but the spot he stands on forces him to stay still; he can only watch helplessly as those people fall one by one.

Another resonance comes from 【Way of the Equal Heaven】.

This time it's a cultivation world; the cultivators of an entire mountain simultaneously sheath their flying swords, sit down, close their eyes, face the direction where the withered monk spreads his gospel, and begin to await death with a devout posture.

Sun Wukong's hand clenches the Chaos Dao iron.

The iron rod does not move.

He does not move.

His Fiery Golden Eyes flicked once, scanning every struggling Living Being in that star region, then he closed his eyes.

Because if he doesn't close them, the next second he will move.

A single move, and the Master dies.

You damn good at this.

He isn't insulting an enemy.

He is merely stating a fact.

Original Mistake has made the board too wide.

So wide that he has no solution.

He is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

He is the monkey that smashed the Heavenly Court, the one who was pressed under Wǔxíng Shān for five hundred years without dying, the Chaos Lord who shattered Hongjun's Judgement Spear and forced Original Mistake to open the gate himself.

But at this moment, those titles are all useless.

He can do nothing.

He can only stand here, listening as 【Way of the Equal Heaven】 sends those vanishing sounds one by one into his Divine Soul, torturing each of his nerves.

One world perishes.

One race is extinguished.

A stretch of void falls silent.

One after another, as if someone takes an object and repeatedly pokes his most sensitive spots.

Within arm's reach.

Those worlds that are wailing, extinguishing, disappearing are within his perception, close enough to touch.

The horizon.

But he cannot take a single step forward, because if he steps out, Master would be gone.

He is here, while those worlds are dying.

If he goes there, Master's Dao Heart would be extinguished.

This is a question with no correct answer; the poser has already calculated that whichever he chooses, he loses.

Sun Wukong drew a long breath and opened his eyes.

Within his Fiery Golden Eyes, the two Chaos vortices turned very slowly, slower than he would.

He is deducing.

Using his brain that has fought countless battles and outwitted countless strong ones, he lays out every possibility to calculate.

He calculated for a long time.

What he arrived at was still a dead end.

No matter which way he goes, before the Original Mistake—a strategy that treats the entire Universe as a board—his single point is just a point.

He suddenly recalled a sentence Master once said in the Study years ago.

"Losing a game of chess isn't a problem; just flip the board."

Sun Wukong lowered his head and glanced at the Chaos Dao Iron.

That seemingly ordinary Stone Staff was heavy and bore no expression.

"Flip the board."

He chewed over those three words and spat them out.

But how does one flip the board?

He is now nailed by a dead end of "guard Master or save the beings," and the premise of flipping the board is that he must be able to move.

He cannot move.

The Way of the Equal Heaven sent another wave of intense resonance, this time stronger than any before, so strong that something seemed to grip his chest and twisted sharply.

When he fixed his gaze, his soul almost scattered.

It was Mount Huaguo.

The hill where he was born, the most familiar, bearing his Water Curtain Cave, now had a gray beam pressing down onto it.

It was not an attack.

It was an erasure that would strip everything of its "meaning of existence."

Sun Wukong's foot moved a little.

Just once.

Then he stopped.

The gray beam hovered over Mount Huaguo, not descending, just hanging there.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for him to move, to rescue, to leave this place.

Sun Wukong stared at that beam for a full three seconds.

Then he smiled.

It was not a joyful smile.

It was a smile that emerged when forced to a critical point.

"Alright then."

He said softly, his throat a little hoarse.

"Even Mount Huaguo has been brought out."

The Chaos Dao Iron tightened a bit in his hand.

He withdrew his gaze from Mount Huaguo and refocused on the void beneath his feet.

His mind kept turning.

But this time, he was not calculating "how to resolve the dead end."

He was pondering something else.

What if the board itself has a problem?

What if the two options "guard Master" and "save the beings" are fabricated false choices set by the opponent?

What if the true breakthrough lies nowhere on those two paths?

His eyes gradually brightened, and the two Chaos vortices began to spin faster.

At that moment, a voice came from the distant depths of the void, cold and lingering.

"Sun Wukong."

"Your Master is being slowly ground to death by each second of your hesitation."

Sun Wukong's spine straightened.

The voice continued, "You may keep thinking. Have you calculated how much time he has left?"