Nezha raised his exceptionally handsome brows, his lotus-patterned robe fluttering in the wind.
His expression practically screamed, “Isn’t it obvious? I am the illustrious Third Prince Nezha.”
He truly was beautiful—unlike Yang Jian and Little White Dragon, he resembled a lotus flower that disdained competing with the myriad blossoms, standing alone and pure in a clear pond where heaven and earth met.
Blooming and withering idly, blooming and withering again, indifferent to worldly opinions, even indifferent to the world itself.
But Li Miaoci was terrified. It was true she had a weakness for handsome faces, but she also feared death.
Her encounter with Nezha had involved fewer than two sentences exchanged before she was stabbed dozens of times with his spear. Anyone else would have fled without a trace by now.
Of course, the reason she hadn’t run wasn’t bravery—her legs had gone numb from fright.
Besides, she was confident her two legs couldn’t outrun the famous Wind-Fire Wheels.
Heavens, this is disastrous!
Why had the Journey to the Western Heaven quartet turned into Tang Sanzang and the Celestial Court’s three biggest rebels, ready to revolt at any moment?
Traveling west with them to retrieve the scriptures—could they really reach Spiritual Mountain?
Wouldn’t they just pick fights with others at the slightest disagreement?
Wahh…
Li Miaoci darted from behind God Erlang to behind Sun Wukong. “Eldest Senior Brother.”
The Monk looked at her in confusion. “Old Sun just went ahead to scout the path. Why are you wailing as if at a funeral?”
Before she could lodge her complaint, Nezha approached with a forced smile. “Great Sage.”
“Third Prince? Are you also a Scripture Seeker?” The monkey was surprised.
Nezha replied with familiarity, “Of course. With you and Erlang both here, how could I be missing?”
“Right, Master?”
Tang Sanzang pressed his palms together. “Amitabha.”
Tang Sanzang was utterly composed, as if even if the disciples accompanying him west were demons and monsters, he wouldn’t show a hint of surprise.
“Master is a mortal in flesh and blood. How should we cross this Flowing Sands River?” Sun Wukong glanced at Yang Jian, who acted as if it were none of his business, and at Nezha, who looked excited for some unknown reason.
Nezha stepped down from his Wind-Fire Wheels, retracting the long spear in his hand and the Chaos Heaven Silk draped over his body.
“Great Sage, I have an idea.”
“Speak.”
The Monk sat down against a nearby rock.
“To reach Spiritual Mountain for scripture retrieval is a journey of thousands of miles for mortals, but for the likes of us, it’s trivial. Now, we have three burdens before us. Each of us takes one, and we’ll meet at the foot of Spiritual Mountain before nightfall.”
Nezha said.
He had no desire to waste effort on something so unchallenging. Since only by reaching the Western Heaven and obtaining the true scriptures could he free himself from his nightmares, he chose to resolve this quickly.
Yang Jian’s eyes lit up. “I have no objections.”
Li Miaoci very much wanted to ask, where did these three burdens come from?
“Then I’ll choose Little White Dragon.” Nezha pointed at Little White Dragon, who was lying on a cloud mid-air, watching the commotion.
Li Miaoci kindly reminded him, “Little White Dragon is over there.”
The one grazing behind the rock.
Nezha shot her a disdainful look. Could he, the illustrious Third Prince, not see through a mere Doppelganger technique?
“No way, Old Sun chooses Little White Dragon.” Sun Wukong refused to back down.
Yang Jian said calmly, “I won’t argue with you two. I’ll take her.”
“No!”
Sun Wukong and Nezha refused in unison.
If Yang Jian took Li Miaoci, then either he or the monkey would have to take Tang Sanzang.
And Tang Sanzang was a genuine burden.
The three of them began arguing on the spot.
“If Old Sun weren’t trapped under the Five Elements Mountain with no freedom, I wouldn’t have thought about protecting Tang Sanzang on his journey westward to retrieve the scriptures.” He looked at the two men before him with an unfriendly expression. “But Old Sun doesn’t understand why you two brothers would abandon your comfortable positions as deities in the Heavenly Realm to come do the same thankless job as me?”
Yang Jian coughed lightly twice, remaining silent.
He didn’t want to say that if he didn’t come, he’d have to endure heavenly lightning strikes every day.
Nezha was filled with resentment, and the monkey’s words only made him angrier. Even as a deity, he couldn’t accept repeating the same life day after day.
Besides, as the Great God of the Three Altars Sea Assembly, he didn’t want to be trapped forever in the Flowing Sands River.
Meanwhile.
Little White Dragon had already carried Tang Sanzang and Li Miaoci across the Flowing Sands River.
The three of them traveled forward in silence.
Tang Sanzang rode his horse at the front, with Li Miaoci following at the rear. She wore loose grass-green robes, her hair tied up.
Her fair, delicate face was clouded with worry.
“I remember we didn’t cross the river like this before,” said Little White Dragon, who had concealed his form and was walking beside Li Miaoci.
Li Miaoci lazily stretched her arms. “Do you really remember having already been to the Western Paradise once?”
“Of course.”
“I had already attained enlightenment, but then somehow I ended up back on this journey westward.” Little White Dragon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Then do you remember your previous second senior brother and third senior brother?”
Li Miaoci asked.
Little White Dragon paused, trying hard to remember, but found his memories of them growing increasingly vague.
He shook his head. “I don’t remember, but they definitely weren’t those two.”
“What about you? Where do you come from? What do you want to achieve by going to the Western Paradise?”
Li Miaoci looked back at the endless Flowing Sands River behind them, her eyes dim. “This place is interesting, but I want to go home.”