Chapter 419: After the Light... Falling into the Abyss!

The crimson‑gold light raged, tearing the meaningless void apart.

Darkness receded.

Sun Wukong gasped heavily.

His mouth was filled with the metallic taste of his own blood from a bitten lip.

Ahead, a faint glimmer stubbornly pulsed.

That was the Master's Dao Heart.

It was within arm's reach.

Damn close.

Just half a step away.

Sun Wukong spread his blood‑stained mouth into a grin.

He extended the arm covered in dark Golden Scales, thrusting forward with all his might.

The fingertip's temperature even sensed the familiar vibration on the Dao Heart.

Just half an inch left.

I'll grab it!

Master!

I, Old Sun, have it!

His fingers clenched hard.

He grasped at nothing.

The weak light point ahead flickered without warning.

Then, like a candle snuffed out, it vanished instantly.

No residual energy ripple remained.

Sun Wukong rigidly kept his reaching hand pose.

Before the curse word in his mind could surface, the surrounding world changed.

No cataclysmic explosion.

No sign of any magical attack.

Not even the slightest ant‑bite pain.

The realm he had forcefully illuminated with his will was now faulty.

It resembled a masterpiece ink painting drenched in a bucket of dirty water.

All the rugged strokes faded layer by layer.

The outlines that sketched heaven and earth blurred and dissolved strand by strand.

The once three‑dimensional space was flattening at breakneck speed.

Sun Wukong stared at his own hand, a moment of Blank flashing in his mind.

What the hell is this trick?

Illusion?

He didn't believe it.

What level of illusion could deceive his Chaos Monkey Heart?

Immediately, his body gave the most genuine reaction.

The prideful power he boasted was receding.

Not the tearing feeling of a forced formation stripping him.

Nor the suffocating seal imposed by a high Life Rank master.

But a natural leaking.

Like clenching your fist so hard that dry sand still slips through the gaps.

The Chaos Dao he had painstakingly forged through countless near‑deaths was the first to be hit.

That domineering energy, once roaring within him and capable of overturning the heavens, now dispersed in an exceedingly gentle manner.

Next came the Primordial Source of Order.

The cold, tight law chains snapped and melted one by one, turning into meaningless gas that seeped out of his pores.

Finally, it was the Way of the Equal Heaven he exchanged his life for.

That battle will, representing Unyielding and defying destiny, also began to wither.

Too gentle.

This method of stripping was so gentle it made one's hair stand on end.

It doesn't give you Principle, it doesn't fight you.

It simply lets you watch yourself become a useless husk.

"Stop it, you!"

Sun Wukong cracked his teeth, desperately trying to circulate his spirit to lock those Primordial Sources.

To no avail.

He felt his body growing lighter.

Bones shrank, muscles melted.

He looked down.

The two arms that had once been as thick as coiling dragons were rapidly shrinking.

The Chaos Golden Scales covering them fell off like autumn leaves, fluttering down.

When a piece drops, his heart twitches.

The Golden Scales peel away, revealing the skin beneath.

Soon, tangled yellow hairs sprout from the skin.

The chaotic demonic body that once could grasp the sun, moon, and stars helplessly regresses into a pair of shaggy, withered monkey paws.

Panic.

An uncontrollable emotion crawls up his spine.

Sun Wukong fears neither heaven nor earth.

When faced with the need to erase him by the Original Mistake, he has only raging fury and murderous intent.

When pierced by those disgusting rule tentacles, not even his brows wrinkle.

But now, he panics.

It is a chilling feeling that emanates from deep within his soul.

A shiver of being reverted to his original form.

This feeling is too familiar.

Too damn familiar.

Five hundred years ago, he rampaged the Heavenly Palace, and a golden giant hand flipped his palm to crush him beneath the Five Elements Mountain.

It is that same sense of drop from Great Sage Equal to Heaven to a captive beneath the steps.

But that time there was at least a mountain pressing down, and he still knew who had schemed against him.

Now?

He can't even find an enemy.

The regression continues.

The whole world's reshaping speed is absurdly fast.

The endless void beneath his feet vanished, turning into a soft, fluffy meadow of grass.

The oppressive black veil overhead disappeared, becoming a clear blue sky.

Even a few snow‑white clouds drift lazily.

A gust of wind blows.

The air carries the scent of ripe peaches, mingled with the earthy aroma of the mountains.

It is the smell of Mount Huaguo.

A multicolored flower butterfly appears from nowhere.

It circles him twice.

It lightly lands on a wild yellow flower in front of his nose.

It even flutters its wings provocatively.

Peaceful.

Everything is too peaceful.

Blue sky, white clouds, green grass, wildflowers.

For a war god who has just been scrabbling on the brink of life and death, bearing the despair of the entire Universe.

This cleanliness, this ease makes him so disgusted he feels nauseated.

"Fake scenery!"

"Everything's damn fake!"

Sun Wukong finally makes a sound.

He thought his roar would shatter the heavens.

Instead, the sound that came out was hoarse and thin, exactly like an undeveloped infant monkey.

He widens his eyes, burning with fury.

"I don't believe it!"

He suddenly gapes his mouth, his chest heaving violently.

He intends to spew Samadhi True Fire to burn all this pervasive falseness clean!

"Hoo—"

A laughably muffled sound.

From his mouth only a puff of lukewarm white smoke emerges.

Not even the flower butterfly before him is blown away.

"Damn!"

He thrust his right hand backward, digging into his ear.

He wants to summon Chaos Dao iron to pierce a huge hole in this disgusting blue sky.

His fingers dig in, pulling out only a bit of earwax; his palm remains empty.

There is no stick that can smash the rules.

There is nothing.

He stomps his foot hard.

Somersault Cloud!

Get me up!

His feet are nailed to the mud; besides crushing two blades of grass, he can't even spring a meter high.

Can't fly, no fire, no weapon.

Sun Wukong lowered his head and looked at his reflection in the puddle.

The water surface showed a monkey about three feet tall, its whole body covered in dry, yellowish coarse hair.

The monkey hunched its back, with its arms hanging naturally past its knees.

A pair of eyes that should have contained the Chaos Realm's vortex now had only a ring of golden pupils.

In the depths of the pupils, a hint of an untamed beast's bewilderment still showed.

He had completely reverted.

He had degenerated into an ordinary stone monkey squatting before Mount Huaguo's Water Curtain Cave, without a name, let alone having taken a master and learned arts.

No Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

No Victorious Fighting Buddha.

Just a beast that had barely emerged from a stone a few years ago.

But Sun Wukong's mind was clear!

He knew very well who he was!

He was the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong!

He had just fought a table‑flipping battle at the edge of the Universe with that monster whose name cannot be spoken!

He had just seen his Master's Dao Heart!

He had just…

But what?

A certain string in Sun Wukong's mind suddenly snapped.

That sense of clarity—knowing who he was—was fading fast, like seawater receding at low tide.

It was like having an especially long, especially shocking dream.

In the dream you were a world‑saving hero who rescued the entire world.

Then you woke up.

For the first few seconds after opening your eyes, you still clearly remembered every move and every word from the dream.

But as soon as you blink a few times, go to the washroom and splash your face,

the dream's details will collapse in large chunks.

You can't grasp them at all.

His memory of the monster named the Original Mistake began to develop gaps.

He remembered that such a thing existed, but could not recall what it looked like.

And Yao?

That silly girl who burned herself to become a light shield.

Her name was still on his lips, but her face, that warm sensation from the dream,

was rapidly fading from his perception.

"Don't forget…"

He pounded his own head hard.

"Remember this, damn it!"

What panicked him most was the memory of his Master.

The white‑haired old man sitting in the dilapidated Study, using a turtle shell to prop up the table legs.

The Master who bore the malice of the entire Universe just so he could live with his spine straight.

The old man's silhouette began to turn transparent.

"Master…"

Sun Wukong scratched at the grass like a madman, his nails full of mud and grass roots.

It was useless.

Nothing could be retained.

His mind was like a large rag being dragged across it in a brutal wipe.

Wiping away the blood and tears, wiping away the pain and hatred.

In the end only a blank sheet remained.

In the distance, a noisy sound came.

It was a large troop of monkeys swinging to and fro among the branches, chattering noisily as they played.

"Great King! Great King!"

The sound grew nearer.

A gray‑white haired old monkey, blind in one eye, pushed aside the waist‑high grass and came running, limping.

The old monkey's face beamed with a fawning yet delighted smile.

He walked up without hesitation and slapped Sun Wukong's furry shoulder.

"Great King, what are you spacing out for, squatting here?"

The old monkey pointed toward the mountain top.

"The peaches on the back mountain are ripe, dozens of them big and red!"

"The monkey youngsters have been drooling for ages, waiting for you to come and share them!"

"If you don't go, who dares to take the first bite, right?"

Sun Wukong stood frozen in place.

He looked at the toothless old monkey, at the withered hand resting on his shoulder.

He opened his mouth.

In his throat it felt as if a handful of glass shards were lodged, and tens of thousands of curses, roars, and questions tried to pour out.

He wanted to ask where the darkness behind that door had gone.

He wanted to ask how much of Yao's Dream Pure Land remained.

He wanted to ask whether Master had actually rescued them.

But all the resistance, all the obsession, the moment they surged toward his throat, were forcibly erased.

Blank paper.

In his mind, it truly was a blank sheet now.

A clear wind blew, lifting a few pink peach blossom petals that fell onto his nose tip.

Sun Wukong stood upright, his eyes that had once been full of defiance and madness now completely extinguished all their luster.

Leaving a terrifying void.

He blinked slowly, turned his head, and looked at the old monkey whose face wore a flattering Smile.

The expression on that furry face turned into a kind of animal‑like innocence and stupidity.

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva with some effort.

His lips twitched a few times.

His voice carried a primitive bluntness.

"…What…peach?"

The old monkey, hearing that, laughed and slapped his thigh, grabbing his arm and leading him into the forest.

"What other peach could it be? It's the biggest honey peach on Mount Huaguo! Hurry, hurry, or the baboon on the neighboring hill will snatch it!"

Sun Wukong did not struggle.

He was like a marionette on strings, being pulled by the old monkey, stepping unevenly toward the fruit‑scented forest.

The sky was so blue it was almost glaring.

Everything—it's over.

Or… is this just the beginning?

Deep in the forest, a pair of eyes not belonging to any monkey stared intently at the small, receding figure.

The owner of those eyes, within the dim canopy, gaped a huge mouth bristling with sharp teeth.

"Finally found you… prey."

That hoarse whisper pierced the birdsong and fragrance of Mount Huaguo, carrying a blood‑stained scent foreign to this realm, and drove deep into the soil.