Chapter 482: All Living Beings Stand Tall

When Sun Wukong brought Yao back to Wanshen Fenchang, Bodhi was still leaning against that stone pillar.

The old man held an empty cup in his left hand, his right arm hanging, and didn't even lift his eyelids.

"Finished smashing?"

"Finished smashing."

Sun Wukong chuckled, planted the Iron Staff into the ground, and said, "Ling Shan has become ruins, the Heavenly Court has turned into a bathhouse, and the prisoners have been released."

Bodhi hummed, "All flustered, anyone can smash things. But finished smashing? What about after that?"

Sun Wukong scratched the Back of Head and was at a loss for words.

He indeed only cared about smashing and hadn't thought about what comes after.

Yao gently tugged his sleeve from beside him and whispered, "The Three Realms are now a mess of porridge; someone has to clean it up."

Bodhi placed the empty cup on a stone and stood up slowly.

"Fine, your brain is only good for smashing things. I'll take care of the rest for you."

The moment his words fell, a gigantic phantom materialized across the sky vault of Wanshen Fenchang.

Chaotic Demon God.

The phantom did nothing, just stood there.

But within a radius of billions of miles, every being that still harbored hopeful thoughts felt it.

Like a mountain pressing on the head.

It wasn't killing intent, it wasn't a threat.

It was purely "being".

He is here; no one dares to turn the world upside down.

In every corner of the Three Realms, the lingering forces hiding in the shadows waiting for the storm to pass felt their resolve cool.

A few rogue immortals hidden in a minor thousand-world were gathering to discuss whether to take advantage of the chaos.

The moment the demon god's phantom appeared, the tea cup in the leading old Taoist's hand shattered with a crack.

"Disperse, disperse, go home and farm."

No one leapt forward.

No one dared.

This isn't fear of a monkey.

It's fear of the old man standing behind that monkey.

That old man who could swat a Saint away with one palm, shatter the Heavenly Dao treasure with a single sentence, and even lift Hóngjūn Dàozǔ by the neck as if he were a chick.

Only someone with a sick mind would jump now.

The Three Realms fell silent.

But silence does not equal peace.

The scars left by war are too deep.

The earth cracked, mountains and rivers shattered, and the skies of countless worlds remain shrouded in gray death.

In the places hit by the "Great Harvest", although Bodhi pulled the living beings back from the void, the land beneath their feet was barren and the sky above them was broken.

Yao stood at the center of Wanshen Fenchang and closed her eyes.

Her body emitted a faint blue light.

It was the power of Dream.

It wasn't for combat; it was the most primal power belonging to "hope".

The blue light spread from her, passing through the void, through dimensional barriers, reaching every inch of wounded land in the Three Realms.

On the cracked earth, the blue light seeped into the soil like spring rain falling into a dried riverbed.

The fissures began to close.

The dead grass roots sprouted green shoots again.

The broken river flow surged from underground, refilling the riverbed.

In the gray sky, the blue light turned into thin warm breezes, dispersing the death aura and revealing the long‑concealed starlight.

In a small village trampled by demons, an old locust tree that had been burned to charcoal sprouted fresh green leaves on its branches.

The old woman sitting beneath the tree stared blankly at the new leaves for a long time, then suddenly covered her mouth and began to weep silently.

After Yao finished all this, her complexion grew a few shades paler, yet her eyes shone unusually bright.

Sun Wukong looked at her and grinned.

"Alright, you."

Yao gave him a cold stare, "You only know how to smash; someone has to be responsible for repairing."

The wounds of the Three Realms are healing.

The Blank in order also needs to be filled.

But Sun Wukong never intended to build a new Heavenly Court or a new Ling Shan.

The first thing he did was return to Mount Huaguo.

Standing before Water Curtain Cave, watching the mountain full of peach trees and lively leaping monkeys, he planted the Iron Staff into the highest stone at the summit.

The Iron Staff was wrapped in crimson‑gold light, shooting upward, becoming a pillar of light that pierced straight through the heavens.

Everyone could see this beam of light.

In every corner of the Three Realms, the living beings looking up could see the golden pillar pointing toward Mount Huaguo.

Sun Wukong's voice traveled with the pillar across heaven and earth.

"Mount Huaguo, from today onward, anyone may come."

No matter whether you are human, monster, ghost, or immortal, no matter what your former status was, once you're here, there are no rules.

Check: we used the word 'immortal', derived from the Chinese character meaning immortal. Good.

The only rule: you must not bully anyone weaker than you.

Whoever breaks this rule, I will personally send them on their way.

It's just that simple and brutal.

There are no lengthy decrees, no so-called thirty-six heavenly rules.

One is enough.

On the first day the news spread, no one dared to move.

On the third day, a few bold wandering cultivators crept over, took a distant glance, and ran away.

On the seventh day, a group of half-monster children who had been driven from their homes timidly appeared at the foot of Mount Huaguo.

An old monkey in the monkey troop waved at them.

The children cried as they ran up.

By the tenth day, the visitors to Mount Huaguo were too many to count.

The monster race came in the greatest numbers.

They had been oppressed in the Three Realms for too long; many monsters had never done any evil, yet simply because they were born monsters, they were hunted down by the Heavenly Court and the Fómén.

Now they stand in the Peach Forest of Mount Huaguo, eating peaches heartily and speaking loudly, and no one will slash at them with a knife just because they are monsters.

Mortals also came.

Those mortals who had been exploited by the Heavenly Court and the Fómén for thousands of years, supporting the elderly and carrying the young, crossed mountains and ridges.

Can Mount Huaguo hold so many people?

It doesn't matter.

Yao's Dream power and the Blue Star Federation's technology joined forces, opening up one new territory after another around Mount Huaguo.

The base of the Blue Star civilization was built on the eastern foothills of Mount Huaguo.

Those blue light orbs took root and turned into strange buildings, with data streams flowing through their semi-transparent walls.

The cultivators curiously gathered around and discovered that the Blue Star people could actually power formations with a tiny 'crystal core'.

The Blue Star scientists were even more ecstatic to the point of madness; a fireball casually rubbed together by a cultivator had an energy density ten thousand times beyond their theoretical limit.

The first fusion product was a magic artifact.

Its shape is that of a Blue Star handgun, its core engraved with cultivator spirit runes, and the bullets it fires can track and curve around enemies.

It was made by a mortal artisan and a fox monster; the two argued over technical details for three days and three nights at the market of Mount Huaguo, then partnered to open a shop.

Business was so good that the queue stretched down to the mountain's base.

Mount Huaguo became increasingly lively.

Markets, taverns, schools, blacksmith shops—everything was there.

A monster-run noodle shop stood next to a mortal-run bookstore, and across from the bookstore was a Blue Star-run holographic cinema.

Noise, clamor, chickens flying and dogs jumping.

It was very chaotic.

But they lived vibrantly.

And what about those gods who once loomed high above?

The bald monks of Ling Shan had their Xiūwéi Fèi le, each one white and plump, incapable of doing anything.

had their Xiūwéi Fèi le

On the first day they still tried to put on airs, but passing mortals didn't even glance at them.

On the third day, unable to bear the hunger, a former Golden-bodied Arhat went to the town's bun shop seeking work.

The boss sized him up from head to toe: 'Can you knead dough?'

No.

Can you split firewood?

No.

Then what can you do?

The poor monk can chant sutras.

'Can chanting sutras feed you? Go wash dishes in the back yard—three meals a day provided, wages paid monthly.'

The former arhat opened his mouth, then lowered his head and went to the back yard.

The Heavenly Court's former Heavenly Soldiers and Generals were no better off.

Some went to the village to carry sacks, some moved cargo at the dock, some ran errands delivering messages.

After three days of work, a former Clairvoyant squatted on the field ridge chewing a steamed bun, and suddenly said:

'No wonder mortals hate us. This life is truly fucking exhausting.'

The former Wind-Listener beside him nodded vigorously.

Without incense offerings and without mortals kneeling in worship, they learned for the first time how a grain of rice grows from the earth.

And those ordinary living beings, for the first time, realized that the sky would not collapse.

Without the Heavenly Court issuing commands, the sun still rose.

Without the Fómén saving all beings, people could still survive.

They no longer needed to kneel to pray to gods and buddhas, only for a promise of favorable weather.

They farmed themselves, dug wells themselves, built houses themselves.

Their spines straightened.

It was not because someone allowed them to straighten.

It is because those who forced them to bend over have all been knocked down.

Sun Wukong crouches on the highest stone of Mount Huaguo, a blade of grass in his mouth, watching the bustling scene of people coming and going below.

Yao leans against the peach tree beside them, cradling a blue light sphere in their arms, which is the Blue Star Federation's dispatched "liaison officer".

"Is it pretty?"

Yao asks.

"Pretty."

Sun Wukong spits out the grass, grins with his teeth showing.

That's more like it.

No need to kneel, no need to be afraid.

Do whatever you want, go wherever you want.

No one should think they can ride on anyone's head.

This is the damn way the world should be.

He's had enough, jumps down from the stone.

The crimson‑gold battle armor on his body flashes, turning into specks of light dust that disperse.

Revealing the tattered cloth clothing underneath.

He stretches lazily, his bones crack.

"Alright, leave it to you to watch over."

Seeing his demeanor, Yao knows what he's about to do, doesn't stop him, and only says, "The sooner you go, the sooner you return."

Sun Wukong lets out a chuckle, shrinks the Iron Staff and stuffs it into his ear.

"Go back and brew a pot of tea for Master. That old man alone will surely have his tea gone cold again."

A flash of golden light shines at his feet.

His form vanishes on the spot.

Only a breeze scented with peach blossoms remains, drifting over the bustling Mount Huaguo.

In the distance.

Bodhi still leans against that stone pillar, holding an empty cup in his left hand.

His gaze passes over Mount Huaguo, over the Three Realms, toward the deepest void in a twisted direction.

Something moves there.

Very light.

Very slow.

Yet approaching.

When Bodhi withdraws his gaze, the corner of his mouth twitches.

Not a smile.

It's a clench of teeth.

"If you're coming, then come."

He whispers a line, placing the empty cup on the stone.

That ruined right hand, its five fingers move simultaneously.