Chapter Sixty-Five: Wukong

The old man was originally from the Tang Dynasty, living at the frontier. Both his sons had been conscripted as soldiers and died on the battlefield. He and his granddaughter had been driven to desperation by a landlord, leaving them no way to survive, so they left their homeland and settled in seclusion at this oasis in the desert.

Yu Lang felt deeply sympathetic upon hearing this and wanted to invite the old man to return to the Tang Dynasty with him, promising to use some of his money to help the grandfather and granddaughter settle down.

The old man pondered silently for a moment.

The little girl, sensible beyond her years, poured two bowls of salty milk tea for her grandfather and their guest.

Yu Lang took a sip and found it unfamiliar; this liquid bore no resemblance to the milk tea of his previous life—it was fishy and salty, undeniably refreshing, but not at all delicious.

In the end, the old man smiled and declined Yu Lang’s invitation to return to the Tang Dynasty together. “I’ve lived to this age, never knowing when my time will come. I don’t have the strength to endure another upheaval. The girl and the young man from the Ashina family are quite fond of each other; they’ll be happy together in the future.”

Yu Lang did not press further. He chatted amiably with the old man for a while longer before finally broaching the subject of the Yellow Sand Man.

The old man's expression grew serious. “The Yellow Sand Man comes once a month to take food, but he never harms anyone. Once, when we were attacked by horse bandits, he even helped us drive them away. We treat him like a deity, offering him the best food and drink.”

With his keen insight, Yu Lang could tell the Yellow Sand Man was not truly alive, but rather an incarnation formed from sand and qi by a master of the upper three realms.

Since this person treated the villagers respectfully, Yu Lang thought he could not be some villain. Now, stuck at a bottleneck in his cultivation, he felt moved to pay a visit.

The old man waved his hands repeatedly at Yu Lang’s intention. “No, no, young men from the tribe have tried to find the Yellow Sand Man’s dwelling. They wandered and suffered greatly before returning. I fear the immortal doesn’t like being disturbed.”

Yu Lang smiled, “It’s all right. I noticed the Yellow Sand Man is quite particular about his food; he must be a gourmand. If I prepare some fine dishes and bring a jug of wine, I doubt he would turn me away.”

The old man admired the young man; from the first encounter, Yu Lang had discerned the subtleties behind the Yellow Sand Man’s actions—bold and perceptive.

Yu Lang borrowed the old man’s stove to prepare several small dishes, took two jugs of wine, left two silver ingots as payment, and then set off toward the edge of the oasis with his offerings.

The scent of the Yellow Sand Man was strong—not the odor of someone unwashed for days, but a potent aura that cultivators would find sensitive. Though Yu Lang had lost his cultivation, his five senses from the upper three realms remained, allowing him to follow the aura closer to the Yellow Sand Man’s lair.

The sensation grew stronger, then suddenly ceased. A whirlwind of sand rose, obscuring all directions, trapping Yu Lang in the dust, unable to advance or retreat.

Yu Lang raised his food high and called out, “I am Yu Lang, also known as Yu Ziyou, a junior who knows of your loneliness and has come to keep you company! Please, show me the way!”

The sandstorm ceased, and the Yellow Sand Man appeared, gesturing invitingly to Yu Lang before dissipating with the wind—indeed, he was merely an incarnation formed by a master’s magic.

Yu Lang walked further and found the sand dune before him incredibly hard. Though it appeared to be sand, its actual hardness surpassed any metal he had ever seen.

At the base of the dune, a head was exposed.

Half a head with yellow hair, a thick beard hiding his face.

The man’s voice was deep and hoarse as he demanded wine. The wine in the pouch formed a stream that obediently poured into his half-open mouth. Both jugs were emptied in an instant; he smacked his lips contentedly, not speaking to Yu Lang, instead levitating the food to himself as well.

He had eaten earlier, but only intended to smell the new dishes. The aroma was so enticing, he couldn’t help but devour them in a few bites.

“You are a sensible child. The wine and food you brought suit my tastes. Tell me, what brings you here?”

Yu Lang bowed respectfully. “The aura upon you is much like that of an old acquaintance of mine.”

“An old acquaintance? Who?”

“I do not know his name. I only know that a century ago, he accompanied Chen Xuanzang to fetch the scriptures from the west. When they were attacked by bandits in the desert, a man named Wukong saved his life…” Yu Lang watched the man’s expression closely, fearing to offend him.

The man’s expression remained calm, but his tone was gritted with anger. “Do not mention Chen Xuanzang before me. I escorted him westward for the scriptures. Along the way, he had an affair with the Queen of the Kingdom of Women, and they had a child. To conceal this secret, he used the Buddha’s supreme treasure, the Fantian Seal, to suppress me here for a hundred years.”

“You are Wukong?” Yu Lang’s heart quickened. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, who battled the heavens and earth, was his childhood hero.

Wukong nodded. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I’d almost forgotten that name. A hundred years is far too long.”

Yu Lang felt his nose sting. “How did you endure a hundred years?”

Wukong laughed bitterly, “Count the grains of sand in the desert—how many are raised by the wind, how many washed away by the rain?”

“How can I rescue you?” Yu Lang asked earnestly.

Wukong was faintly moved. “You cannot save me. Only by forgetting all my past can I escape the Fantian Seal. Your friend Bai Long’er—he is my junior brother. He too was suppressed under this seal, but in the end, he could not endure the loneliness and chose to let go of all memory. Even when fragments return, they soon fade again.”

Yu Lang sighed. “If you cannot let go, there must be someone you cannot forget.”

Wukong’s heart was pierced; a thin layer of sorrow spread across his face. “Bai Jingjing—she is likely nothing but a handful of dust by now. Chen Xuanzang was selfish. His love deserved to be cherished and guarded, yet he trampled mine to achieve his own glory. My greatest pain is not that he suppressed me for love, but that he did not trust me to keep his secret.”

Yu Lang’s thoughts drifted to a possibility—could the mysterious head of Xiyue Academy, Chen Wuning, be connected to Chen Xuanzang?

Wukong suddenly sniffed, as if catching a scent, and asked excitedly, “Did you ever possess a pitch-black, icy-cold iron staff?”

“No, but I acquired a blade much like what you described. I named it Grindstone. Ah, yes—Yu Dan, Bai Long’er, once remarked that my blade carried a familiar aura.”

Yu Lang’s thoughts spun rapidly. Perhaps the blade from a century ago was Wukong’s weapon.

“Where is the blade? Where?” Wukong’s eyes shone with feverish light.

“It’s not with me now. If nothing unexpected happens, it should be in Yangzhou City.”

“Good, good.” Wukong was agitated. “What is your name?”

“Yu Lang, Yu Ziyou.”

“Good. Yu Lang, do me a favor: within three years, bring your Grindstone blade here. With its help, I can break the Fantian Seal! I will reward you greatly, with benefits beyond your imagination.”

Yu Lang shook his head. “I seek no reward. To rescue you is enough. I wish you to be the all-powerful Wukong, not a lonely soul trapped beneath the Fantian Seal.”

Perhaps he could never understand the depth of feeling a transmigrator like Yu Lang harbored for the mythic Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Yu Lang mused inwardly.

Wukong was touched by Yu Lang’s words, murmuring under his breath.

A vast, gentle power flowed into Yu Lang’s body.

“Your trouble is that you cannot convert spiritual energy into internal essence, preventing your cultivation from returning. Meditate with this energy; you can directly wield spiritual power without needing to transform it to internal essence.”

Direct use of spiritual energy was a technique of the upper three realms. Yu Lang had once entered them through the path of slaughter. With Wukong's guidance, he could now possess such miraculous ability even at the Hundred Refinements level.

Yu Lang closed his eyes and meditated. The spiritual energy coursed through seventy-two great cycles within his body. Without even relying on Ning Xiaoyu’s pills, he surged to the peak of the Void-Breaking realm. Though he had not yet taken the final step, his strength was now several times greater than before. Even without the Grindstone blade, he could contend with practitioners of the Enlightened Profound realm.

He opened his eyes to find himself sitting before Wukong, who had clearly expended much effort to guard him during his recovery.

“Thank you, Senior Wukong!” Yu Lang bowed solemnly.

“No need for thanks. You, I, and Bai Long’er were destined to meet. You are a man of great fortune; your future will be boundless. Now that your cultivation is restored, return home. Do not forget our three-year promise.”

Yu Lang wished to say more to Wukong, but the sands rose and fell, swallowing all traces.

He bowed toward the distant sky and, displaying his newly regained cultivation, flew eastward.

Upon reaching the frontier, the first thing he did was write a letter and send it via the local post station to Yangzhou City, letting Qingqing and his brothers at Xiyue Academy know he was safe.

At first, the station runner flatly refused the request for five-day delivery to Yangzhou. But upon seeing the gold ingot Yu Lang provided, he quickly changed his tune, declaring that even if it exhausted dozens of fine horses, the business was well worth it.