Chapter Seven: The Monkey Who Fought All His Life
These words struck a nerve in Su Tong. The former Su Tong might not have felt much, but the current Su Tong’s face alternated between red and pale. Yet, he quickly regained his composure and chose to ignore it.
Nothing can be accomplished in one leap; for now, he still needed Xiao Yu and Xiao Xiao to hold the fort. Besides, arguing with fans during a live stream was tantamount to courting disaster—within minutes, the audience would vanish.
“Damn you!”
“To hell with your family!”
“If you don’t believe me, I’ll wipe out your whole family—don’t expect to see the sun tomorrow.”
“…”
Su Tong remained silent, but the fans wouldn’t have it. Five thousand fierce supporters, their words flooding both the chat and private messages like a hanging river of stars, rushing forth to drown out the cynics, leaving onlookers both shocked and fearful.
“Brother, don’t bother with that scum. If there’s any trickery, it’s the Qiao sisters leading you to fool the fans.”
“That’s right, Brother, don’t be upset. Please don’t drive the Qiao sisters away. I’m not good at much, but I love biting back at these scoundrels. Those accounts are doomed—I’ll chat them up every day, discuss their wives’ skills.”
“And me! I’m called Battle Cat—I can argue nonstop for three days and nights without catching my breath.”
“Count me in! My nickname is Battle Bot. Anyone who dares to slander my brother or the Qiao sisters, I’ll chase them down for three thousand miles.”
“…”
The fans of Nian Nu Jiao were usually quite refined, but even the refined have tempers. When they went wild, trolls previously targeted by them wished they could leave the planet, feeling Earth was far too dangerous.
“Haha, it’s fine.” Su Tong adjusted quickly. “I know some listeners want to hear it again, but Da Qiao needs rest. So now, let me tell you a story.”
Su Tong opened a folder on his computer, his expression turning complex. “This is a new story, never before released. I love it deeply, and I believe it will be remembered by many. Its inspiration comes from one of the Four Great Classics of our Great Qin Empire, ‘Journey to the West.’ It’s a fan fiction, but it interprets the journey from a different angle, provoking thoughts on life.”
Many fans loved hearing stories, especially since Su Tong had set the mood before Xiao Yu sang “Catching Mudfish,” and it had lived up to expectations.
Now, with Su Tong’s praise, they believed most of it and eagerly anticipated what was to come.
“Hurry, I want to hear the story!”
“Brother, I can’t sleep without a bedtime story!”
“Hehe, Brother, I love hearing your voice, no matter what you say.”
Even if they didn’t give Su Tong face, they would for the Qiao sisters—and Su Tong had a few hundred fans himself.
Seeing this, Su Tong smiled. The torment he had undergone to exchange this story with the system felt worthwhile at this moment.
The price for this exchange was that Su Tong had to enter battle mode for twenty-four hours straight. But he could choose when to start, as long as he endured within a month.
To be in battle mode for twenty-four hours—forget freedom of movement, even relieving himself would be tough. Su Tong had already consulted the little demon.
“My little demon, does my body have a grudge against the system? It always likes to mess with me like this,” Su Tong had complained.
“Lust is the root of all evil; desire is a blade above the head. The system’s warning is clear: when you enter the entertainment world, you’ll see—handsome men and beautiful women, endless filth. You must hold true to yourself,” the little demon had replied indifferently.
Banishing distracting thoughts, Su Tong began, “Now, let’s enter the story.”
[The four travelers arrived at a dense forest ahead, with no path in sight.
“Wukong, I’m hungry. Find something to eat,” Tang Monk said, settling grandly on a stone.
“I’m busy. Can’t you find it yourself? It’s not like you don’t have legs,” Sun Wukong replied, leaning on his staff.
“Busy? With what?”
“Don’t you think the sunset is beautiful?” Sun Wukong said, his eyes on the horizon. “Only by watching it each day can I keep going west.”
]
At first, everyone found it funny—the Tang Monk seemed so different from the original. But when Wukong spoke of the sunset, the crowd fell silent.
The brilliance and uniqueness of the story were already glimpsed.
Soon enough, Pigsy and Sandy appeared, their personalities completely overturning the original narrative.
The original was deeply ingrained in people’s hearts; though some felt uneasy about such a subversion, after the first chapter ended, everyone’s anticipation was fully ignited.
A different “Journey to the West,” interpreting a different life.
[Xuan Zang raised his head, watching the clouds shift above. “I want the sky to never hinder my eyes again. I want the earth to never bury my heart. I want all beings to understand my purpose. I want all Buddhas to vanish into smoke!”
These words struck like lightning from a clear sky.
In the Western Pure Land, the Buddha suddenly opened his eyes and exclaimed, “No! It’s him—he has returned.”
Guanyin hurried over. “Master, why are you so alarmed?”
The Buddha replied, “It’s him. He’s back again.”
]
When Su Tong reached this part, thirty thousand fans were shaken. The line, “I want the sky to never hinder my eyes again. I want the earth to never bury my heart. I want all beings to understand my purpose. I want all Buddhas to vanish into smoke,” stunned them all.
This was a completely new Tang Monk—interesting, ambitious, profoundly wise.
[“I visited the four seas, extracted gold from the sun’s reflection in the East Sea, drew crimson from the sweat of the Kunlun dragon, took the light of the sun and moon for thousands of miles as thread, and wove with the five-colored clouds of heaven as brocade. I created these. Do they resemble your attire of old?” Zixia held them, gazing at Sun Wukong. “Put them on, let me see you as you were. Come.”]
At first, the appearance of the Immortal Zixia wasn’t widely accepted. But at this scene, everyone was moved by the devotion of such a fairy.
“Be together!”
“Be together!”
“Be together!”
…
Tens of thousands of fans chanted. Zixia was not in the original, but in this story, she appeared, capturing many hearts.
Yet the story was not swayed by the crowd’s will; its ending was already fated.
When Zixia carried Sun Wukong’s body towards the flames beyond the sky, and when the gods searched the ruins and ashes, they found only two things: a charred stone and a broken golden circlet. Some claimed to have seen a streak of gold and a streak of purple rising from the fire, entwined, ascending to the heavens.
Many fans could not hold back.
“Why? Why must they die? Don’t die, or live alone.”
“Give me back Wukong, give me back Zixia.”
“Sobs… don’t die.”
“…”
When the scene returned to Flower Fruit Mountain, many wept and sobbed.
Is this life?
“Freedom is not indulgence; it is a dream like fire,” Su Tong’s voice was low, choked with emotion. “Without a complete soul, there is no freedom.”
This was a story that made people smile until tears flowed.
“The Legend of Wukong” finished, and the live broadcast had lasted over four hours.
“I don’t want to say or do anything now.”
“I want some quiet.”
“It’s been years since I was so moved and saddened… melancholy…”
“…”
The chat was no longer frantic; over ninety-nine percent were silent, but a few spoke for most fans’ feelings.
“Tonight’s stream ends here. Next time, please follow Nian Nu Jiao’s Weibo. Thank you, good night, and may you have sweet dreams,” Su Tong, not in the best spirits, ended the broadcast.
Originally, Xiao Xiao had a segment planned—a dance—yet Su Tong hadn’t expected “The Legend of Wukong” to take so long. Xiao Xiao was already asleep in his arms, and Xiao Yu was dozing off against his shoulder.
In his previous life, “The Legend of Wukong” was a classic of the early web era—emerging when web fiction was just beginning, its depth of thought, in Su Tong’s view, unmatched by any other.
As expected, after hours of silence, some insomniac fans couldn’t help but get up in the middle of the night, flooding Nian Nu Jiao’s Weibo with messages and reposting the latest update.
That update was Su Tong’s announcement of the stream’s time. Before every broadcast, he always posted on Weibo.
“Brother, you’re so cruel! The White Dragon’s love for Tang Monk, Pigsy and Ayue’s love, Zixia and Wukong’s love—none had a happy ending.”
“Brother, I’m starting to doubt life. What should I do?”
“Brother, how can I believe in life? Sobs… I feel so tired—no matter how I resist, the ending is already set.”
“Brother, I want to cry, but I can’t.”
“Why did you finish the story tonight? Tang Monk is so spirited and talented; he shouldn’t have such a tragic fate. And Pigsy—I used to dislike him, but now I feel so sorry for him… Wukong, who fought his whole life, my Immortal Zixia… Sobs, brother, please—let them live again, change their fate, please?”
“…”
Tonight, who knows how many lost sleep? In just one night, the latest Weibo post beneath Nian Nu Jiao had thousands of comments.
Such attention was reserved for the true masters, and Su Tong was stunned the next morning when he logged in.
Though some fans posted repeatedly, the sheer number was daunting.
Previously, Nian Nu Jiao’s fans saw Su Tong as a tasteless side dish—hard to abandon but bland. Now, they both loved and hated him.
He read almost every comment, then posted a Weibo update that shocked all his fans.