Chapter 501: Heavenly Tribulation?

You dare to attack my wife?

Yao just retracted the rainbow light on her hand, and the sky changed.

It wasn't that slow a change.

It was an instant—something covered the star sea overhead.

Dark clouds.

Heavy black clouds surged up from the depths of the void, layer upon layer, pressing the entire star field so hard it could barely breathe.

Inside the clouds, purple arcs crackled, snapping nonstop.

Sun Wukong halted his steps and glanced upward.

The smile on his face froze.

This damn thing is...

He recognized it.

Heavenly Tribulation.

It wasn't an ordinary heavenly tribulation.

It was the universe's own rules in motion.

What did Yao just do?

She turned dream into reality.

She used illusion to replace the damage to the nine star systems, then let that illusion directly become real.

That was like slapping the face of the universe's rules.

The rules don't allow it.

It doesn't allow anyone to easily master the concept of 'reality'.

You have to pay the price.

The thunderclouds grew thicker and thicker, starlight within a radius of ten thousand li was completely snuffed out.

Purple lightning kept building deep in the clouds, each jump adding a scalp‑tingling pressure to the air.

That force was aimed at a single target.

Yao.

It's here.

Yao looked up at the thunderclouds, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Her tone was very calm.

Too calm.

Sun Wukong was not calm.

His iron staff buzzed, and the vine patterns on it lit up.

Fuck your grandmother's leg rules!

He slung the iron staff onto his shoulder while cursing, and with a tap of his toes on the void he was about to surge upward.

This damned tribulation shows up neither early nor late, but picks this moment to cause trouble.

Yao just got her life back, and you're already rushing to chop her?

Believe it or not, I'll stir your whole cloud into pieces.

The iron staff had already expanded to a hundred zhang in his hand, its crimson‑gold light tearing a rift in the surrounding darkness.

He really meant to go up and do it.

No matter what cosmic rules you are, no matter what heavenly‑tribulation test you are.

Anyone who touches him dies.

Wukong.

Yao's voice came from behind.

Not hurried, not slow, with a hint of a smile.

Sun Wukong's motion stalled, and he turned his head to look at her.

What are you doing?

Put it down.

Yao waved at him, her tone like coaxing a child.

You wish! That's a heavenly tribulation—can you withstand it striking you?

You were just about to scatter, your body just recovered, and this strike—

I said put it down.

Yao's tone changed.

Not a negotiation.

Sun Wukong opened his mouth a few times but no words came out.

He recognized that look.

When Yao makes up her mind, that's her expression.

You—

Believe me.

Yao said three words.

Sun Wukong's iron staff hung in mid‑air, neither raised nor lowered.

He stared at Yao for two seconds.

Then he swore, and took back the Iron Staff.

"If you're missing even a single hair—"

Before he could finish speaking, the thunderclouds above his head had already built up to the limit.

The first bolt of lightning fell.

Thick enough to split a Star in half.

A purple‑white lightning pillar struck straight down from the Yúncéng, carrying the dignity of the Universe's law and an irresistible will.

The target was clear.

Above Yao's head.

Sun Wukong's heart clenched, and the Iron Staff almost rose again.

But he held back.

Because he saw what Yao was doing.

She stepped back two steps.

As she retreated, her feet went soft and her whole body sank halfway down.

She clutched her chest, half‑crouched on the ground, her brows knotted into a lump, her face written with weakness and misery.

Even a trace of blood deliberately trickled from the corner of her mouth.

She put on a convincing act.

It was even more convincing than when he once feigned death beneath Wǔxíng Shān to deceive Guanyin.

Sun Wukong narrowed his eyes.

He understood.

This girl was acting.

Who was she performing for?

Performing for that bolt of lightning.

The logic of the Heavenly Tribulation is simple—the stronger you are, the harder it strikes.

The weaker you are, the more it relaxes its guard.

Yao was showing weakness.

She told that bolt of lightning: I'm weak, I'm about to collapse, strike me however you like.

As expected.

That bolt of lightning was still gathering more power, preparing to reach the extreme before unleashing a fatal strike.

But seeing Yao's "weak" appearance, it withdrew its power.

No need for its strongest strike.

Just a half‑dead woman.

A casual strike would do.

The lightning pillar struck down with a contemptuous attitude.

Without any preparation.

Without any hesitation.

Sun Wukong clenched his fists.

The Iron Staff was almost deformed in his palm.

He stared as that bolt of lightning struck toward Yao's body.

It drew near.

Even nearer.

The lightning touched Yao's hair.

At that very moment—

Yao opened her eyes.

The iridescent light in her eyes flared.

That was not the light of battle.

That was the light of Creation.

It was the light of authority that arises when Dream and Truth merge, invincible under heaven.

She moved a single finger.

Just one.

She lightly tapped upward.

The lightning stopped.

It was not blocked.

It was not scattered.

Its very nature was changed.

That bolt of lightning, thick enough to split a planet, shifted from purple‑white to seven‑colored.

From scorching it became moist and warm.

From violent it became gentle.

It was no longer lightning.

It turned into a soap bubble.

A transparent, seven‑colored soap bubble drifting lightly in the void.

Big enough to hold a mountain.

Light as if blown out when a child was playing.

Sun Wukong's mouth twitched.

Soap bubble…

He didn't even know what to say.

Yao straightened her body.

The weak expression on her face had long disappeared.

What replaced it was… how to put it.

The expression of having successfully pulled a prank.

She reached out her hand toward the soap bubble, lightly poking it with her index finger.

"Pa."

The bubble burst.

The debris did not disappear.

They turned into countless specks of light, scattering in all directions.

The specks of light streaked across the dark starry sky, dragging long tails.

One.

Ten.

One hundred.

One thousand.

Ten thousand.

The sky was full of them.

A meteor shower.

A meteor shower formed from a cosmic heavenly tribulation.

The light spread across the sky behind Yao, illuminating the just‑then lifeless starfield as bright as daylight.

Those specks of light landed on the nine newly repaired star systems far away, turning into new stars.

Sun Wukong watched this scene, his iron staff almost slipping from his hand.

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

"… Did you just get someone struck by lightning?"

Yao patted nonexistent dust from her hand, turned and smiled at him.

"Not struck. I collected it."

"Did it want to test me?"

"Fine, I took it."

"Turning it into a meteor shower looks pretty nice, what do you say?"

Sun Wukong's mouth twitched several times.

He wanted to say something.

He wanted to say, "You're really fucking ruthless."

He wanted to say, "You're even more unreasonable than I am."

He wanted to say, "Do you even know you've toyed with the cosmic rules?"

But in the end he said nothing.

He just walked over and reached out to ruffle Yao's hair.

"Let's go. Home."

Yao gave an "um" and took hold of his hand.

Two figures turned into streams of light, disappearing amidst the meteors.

The thundercloud overhead still remained.

But it dared not move.

It dared not strike a second time.

It had witnessed it.

This woman's authority is not an illusory trick, nor some deceptive scheme substituting dreams for reality.

She truly can turn anything into whatever she wants.

Including the heavenly tribulation itself.

The thundercloud remained silent for a long time.

Then it began to dissipate.

It was not driven away.

It left on its own.

It slunk away.

In the distance, Fangcun Mountain.

The Bodhi Patriarch's rattan chair swayed slightly.

The old man's eyelid twitched, the corner of his mouth curling into an extremely tiny arc.

"Interesting."

He closed his eyes again and paid no further attention.

But his withered hand resting on the armrest clenched slightly.

The golden light in his palm jumped twice.

Then—

His brow moved.

An extremely slight, almost imperceptible furrow.

That aura of Dead Water approaching from the depths of the void drew nearer by a bit.

Moreover, this time it was no longer merely "approaching".

It was accelerating.