Chapter 497: The Dust Has Settled!

Bodhi's nod!

That black tree took root at the edge of the Universe.

The golden‑green leaves on the canopy swayed gently with a wind that didn't exist, specks of light scattering onto the gray soil, spreading outward in concentric circles.

The gray earth was deepening.

It now had color, temperature, and the scent of being alive.

Sun Wukong stood ten steps away, hands on his hips, watching for a while.

Inside the trunk, that mouth that could never close remained silently open, as if it wanted to curse but couldn't.

He whistled.

The tune was casual, a half‑beat off, but it sounded satisfying.

"You say, when you're alive you have to be at odds with old Sun."

He spoke to the tree, his tone as relaxed as chatting with a neighbor.

"Now it's better, right? Being a scenery tree all your life, shading the next generation, is ten thousand times better than the despicable deeds you used to do."

The pattern inside the trunk twisted briefly.

That was a response.

A silent, angry, yet meaningless response.

Sun Wukong stopped looking.

He turned, and Yao was standing three steps away.

She withdrew her gaze from the tree and fixed it on Sun Wukong's face.

There was something indescribable in her eyes.

It wasn't worship.

It was more genuine than worship.

Like watching someone crawl out of a mire, bruised all over, yet standing upright.

That feeling of seeing someone and feeling grounded.

"That move you just used—" Yao began.

"The feigned death one?"

"Hmm."

Sun Wukong scratched the back of his head, a hint of pride on his face: "Works, right? That's called playing the pig to eat the tiger. When I was a kid on Mount Huaguo stealing peaches, I did it this way—first I pretended to be bitten by a snake, then waited for the crane elder who came to check the peaches—"

"... and then you got away."

"No, then the crane elder chased me and beat me for half a mountain."

Yao couldn't hold back and laughed out loud.

The laugh echoed at the empty edge of the Universe, carried by the glow of a newborn Star, drifting far away.

Sun Wukong watched her laugh, and the string in his heart that had been taut loosened.

It loosened completely.

Since being locked in that Fake Huaguo Mountain, since having his memories erased, since he almost forgot who he was—the string had never loosened.

Now it's loosened.

Comfortable.

He inhaled deeply, the Monkey Heart in his chest beating steady and strong.

It felt truly good.

"Let's go."

He extended his hand.

Yao passed her hand over.

He grasped it tightly; his palm was dry and warm, a bit too forceful, but Yao said nothing.

A crimson‑gold light lit up beneath both of them.

The radiance lifted them, accelerating, turning into a meteor with a long tail.

It pierced the new star domain they had created in their earlier battle.

On those planets propped up by vine‑covered giant trees, atmospheres had formed and the outlines of oceans appeared.

The laws were operating on their own.

No one governed them, no one set rules; they grew by themselves.

Like seeds in soil that need no urging—when it's time to sprout, they sprout; when it's time to bloom, they bloom.

Starlight swept past from both sides, brushing the face with a faint, cool touch.

It wasn't cold, it was a living wind.

Sun Wukong relished the exhilaration of speed; the soreness and bruises from battle, brushed by the star wind, felt oddly comfortable.

Relaxed.

A relaxation never felt before.

Not the calm before a storm kind of ease, but a genuine one—life's deeds done, vengeance settled, the fights fought and the insults said.

From now on, besides going home to drink tea and eat peaches, there's nothing else.

【7】 He turned his head slightly and glanced at Yao.

He turned his head to the side and gave Yao a glance.

Her hair was blown back by the star wind, her expression calm, a hint of smile at the corner of her mouth.

"What are you thinking?"

"Thinking about planting some flowers on Fangcun Mountain after we return."

"What flower are you planting?"

"Anything. After all, no one can control us now."

Sun Wukong laughed heartily twice.

Right.

No one can control them anymore.

The outline of Fangcun Mountain emerged from the far end of the Star Sea.

It was still that small mountain.

It was still that dilapidated Taoist temple.

A few tiles were missing from the Wūdǐng, the Old Peach Tree in the courtyard grew crooked, and the bamboo rocking chair beneath it creaked as it swayed.

Bodhi Patriarch sat on the rocking chair.

One hand rested on the armrest, the other hand— the right hand that had once been corroded by the Heavenly Dao into a withered bone and then disabled while saving Yao— lay on his knee, the fingers moving occasionally.

His eyes were half‑closed.

He wasn't asleep.

He was "watching".

In a way that required no eyes, he watched the black tree at the very edge of the Universe take root.

He watched new green sprout from the shattered ruins of the old order.

He watched that monkey and that girl turn into a meteor and rush back.

A slight curve lifted the corner of his mouth.

It was faint.

You couldn't notice it without looking closely.

The rocking chair creaked again.

Bodhi fully closed his half‑closed eyes.

He withdrew the gaze that spanned half the Universe.

His back of the head rested against the chair back, his whole body curled into the faded old Taoist robe, looking as if he were tens of thousands of years older than his actual age.

But his spine was straight.

Even while seated, even with his eyes closed, that backbone never bent.

"This monkey."

He spoke.

His voice was soft, as if talking to himself.

"Finally, you haven't embarrassed me."

Having finished speaking, he nodded.

The movement was slight.

Just that once.

But that one was heavier than all the honors and titles of the Three Realms combined.

This was Bodhi Patriarch— a Chaotic Demon God who had lived for an unknown number of epochs—recognition of his sole disciple.

You have grown up.

You can now hold your own.

You no longer need me to shield you.

The rocking chair kept swaying.

The courtyard was quiet.

Two leaves from the Old Peach Tree fell onto Bodhi's shoulder, and he did not brush them away.

The distant sky brightened for a moment.

It was that meteor arriving.

Sun Wukong and Yao landed at the gate of Fangcun Mountain.

He did not rush inside.

He stood at the gate and inhaled deeply.

The scent of pine smoke.

The aroma of old tea steeped for an unknown number of years.

And the sweet, cloying fragrance of peaches sun‑baked all afternoon.

All of it smelled like home.

"Master!"

He hoarsely shouted.

A muffled hum came from the courtyard.

An impatient kind of hum.

"Why are you howling? I'm not deaf."

Sun Wukong chuckled.

He took three steps in the time of two, leapt into the courtyard, and headed straight for the rocking chair.

Bodhi did not open his eyes.

"Is the matter settled?"

"It's settled!"

"Where's that ball?"

"Planted it in the field, as you said. It grew a tree, still quite nice-looking."

"Nice-looking is useless."

"Bodhi cursed with his mouth, but the right hand resting on his knee twitched, pointing toward the table."

"On the table sat a pot of freshly brewed tea."

"The heat hadn't fully dissipated."

"Sun Wukong froze for a moment."

"How much effort did it take for Bodhi's right hand, mostly Fèi le, to lift the kettle, boil water, and brew tea?"

"He didn't ask."

"He picked up the kettle, poured a cup, and with both hands offered it to Master."

"Drink tea."

"Bodhi then opened his eyes."

"He glanced at him."

"Then he reached out with his left hand, took the cup, brought it to his lips, and took a sip."

"It's cold."

"Would you like me to—"

"Can't be bothered to wait. Just drink it as is."

"Master and disciple neither spoke again."

"Only the rustling of peach leaves in the wind and the creak of the rocking chair remained in the courtyard."

"Yao leaned against the doorframe, watching this scene, feeling more reassured than after any previous battle."

"Bodhi finished that cup of cold tea."

"He put the cup back on the table."

"He closed his eyes again."

"The rocking chair swayed twice."

"Don't rush to rest."

"Sun Wukong was about to go pick a peach to gnaw on, but his steps halted."

"What's up?"

"There are still a few rats uncleaned in the house."

"Bodhi's voice was lazy, as if speaking of a trivial matter."

"Since your hand is warm now, let's take care of them all at once."

"Sun Wukong's hand holding the peach froze in Mid-Air."

"He turned his head to look at Master."

"Bodhi's eyes remained closed, his expression blank."

"But his Fèi le right hand was slowly curling its fingers."

"It clenched into a fist."