Volume 3: A Long Journey, Chapter 239: Abundant Fate

The Great Peng kept one for himself, but gave the remaining fourteen to Wukong.
Wukong exclaimed, “What’s the meaning of this?”
The Great Peng replied, “I just wanted something new to try; the rest are for you.” Clearly, seeing that Wukong was still a Taiyi Golden Immortal, he thought that although these ginseng fruits were said to be excellent for prolonging life, such treasures born from the essence of heaven and earth could hardly do any harm if eaten in moderation.
Wukong retorted angrily, “Third brother, if that’s the case, I won’t take any!”
The Great Peng said solemnly, “Wukong, back then you gave me Laojun’s immortal pills—did I refuse them?”
Wukong replied, “That was then; why remember it now?”
The Great Peng said, “In any case, they were given to you. If you don’t want them, discarding them has nothing to do with me!”
Before Wukong could say more, the Great Peng spread his wings and soared into the heavens. How could Wukong possibly chase after him? With no other choice, Wukong stored the ginseng fruits in his magic storage bag, thinking of giving one to each person in Qitianling later to let them try.
He went over to check on Tang Seng and the others. They were sleeping soundly. It was noon, and there was no sign of them waking up. No matter how hard Wukong called, they wouldn’t stir—presumably because Zhenyuanzi had cast some spell on them.
Seeing how remote the place was and fearing wild beasts, Wukong didn’t dare leave. He sat on a green stone and took out a ginseng fruit. He hadn’t examined it closely before, so now he took the time to look closely. The fruit was truly peculiar—resembling a miniature full-term baby, entirely pink with its limbs curled together, looking endearingly simple. No wonder Tang Seng didn’t dare eat it.
The fruit emitted a delicate fragrance, with spiritual energy radiating from it. Pure essence of fate surrounded it without spilling out at all. Wukong thought, “What wonderful fate! I’ve obtained this fruit. Let me eat one and see.”
He took a bite, but there wasn’t much fruit flavor—more like an exotic flower scent. Wukong finished eating the fruit in a few bites, still skeptical. Just one such fruit could extend one’s life by 47,000 years—this was truly unbelievable.
Bored, Wukong lay down on the stone to bask in the sun. The gentle breeze in the wild, along with the scent of grass and birdsong, brought him a rare sense of comfort. As he enjoyed himself, suddenly his stomach moved, as if a round ball was rolling inside. Wukong thought, “Oh no! Could it be that the fruit has come to life in my stomach?”
He quickly sat up, feeling the mass of fate in his dantian spinning much faster.
Ever since meeting Master Wuchao in the Utsang Kingdom and understanding the principle of “gradually comprehending cause and effect from utter emptiness and seeing through the arising of phenomena through karma,” the essence of fate in Wukong’s dantian had been constantly in motion, never ceasing.

After consuming this ginseng fruit, the sphere of creation accelerated like a waterwheel thrown into a river, growing faster and faster. Though the ginseng fruit was a substance for prolonging life, it was ultimately a product of creation itself. Since Wukong was already a being of creation, what need did he have for further longevity? Once creation entered his body, it remained pure creation, unrelated to anything else. This powerful nourishment naturally greatly benefited his spiritual cultivation. Realizing he couldn’t miss this opportunity, Wukong focused his mind in meditation, guiding the flow of creation within him. Although this stream of creation was not comparable to the peach from the volcanic realm of the three realms back then, it was still extremely rare. Having not practiced for a long time, Wukong felt as if he had encountered sweet dew after a long drought—utterly delighted. It took him a full hour of practicing and channeling energy before the sphere’s rotation gradually slowed down. Two flashes appeared in Wukong’s left eye, but he felt no discomfort at all; instead, a strange sensation arose. Zhu Bajie, who was lying on the ground, seemed to be wearing armor, and inside Red Boy’s body, there appeared to be a ball of fire. As for Tang Sanzang… The moment Wukong’s gaze fell on him, this strange sensation vanished, and the sphere’s speed finally stabilized—still more than twice as fast as before. Wukong opened his eyes and felt his vision sharpen significantly. The delicate energy of the mountains became clearly visible, and even the grass and wildflowers in the vicinity could be discerned in detail. Wukong was greatly surprised—his eyes truly were different from others’. Perhaps the day when stars appeared in both his eyes would be the day his innate talent as the Divine Ape of Creation manifested itself. The ginseng fruit was indeed extraordinary… though there was just not enough of it. Wukong resolved to take another one, but thinking of his many brothers and friends in Qitianling, he resisted the temptation. It was enough—he must learn contentment. Consuming just one such fruit was equivalent to centuries of cultivation. At that moment, Wuhui opened his eyes, climbed up from the bushes, rubbed his eyes, and said, “Elder Brother, you… you saved us.” Wukong replied, “Is there anyone else but me?” Wuhui snapped, “That Taoist is truly despicable! He used the ‘Half-Day Drunkenness’ spice to knock us all out.” Wukong asked, “If it’s Half-Day Drunkenness, how did you wake up so early?” Wuhui pouted and said, “I’ve taken countless precious pills over the years—this is nothing compared to those…” Wukong quickly made a “shh” gesture and glanced at Zhu Bajie and Tang Sanzang. Fortunately, the two were still fast asleep. Wuhui stuck out his tongue and whispered, “My third great-grandfather’s ‘Seven-Day Drunkenness’ is truly terrifying. Even immortals who take it would sleep for seven days.”

The two of them waited for a while, and Zhu Bajie and Tang Seng woke up one after another. Seeing Wukong, they were naturally overjoyed. Tang Seng looked around and noticed that the White Dragon Horse was missing. Alarmed, he said, “The horse is gone! Not only that, but my staff and luggage are still at Wuzhuang Temple. What shall we do?” Wukong replied, “Master, don’t worry. The White Dragon Horse is no ordinary horse; it has a spiritual nature and will never get lost. As for your staff and luggage, I’ll go and retrieve them for you. But for now, Master will have to walk the rest of the way.” Tang Seng laughed and said, “I’m not worried about a few more steps after traveling tens of thousands of miles.” Wukong smiled inwardly. Though he could leap a short distance, the place was still about a thousand or eight hundred miles away from Wuzhuang Temple. Wukong flew to a high place to observe the terrain, then led Tang Seng back to the main road. He whispered a few words to Wuhui, who immediately took off in flight. When Tang Seng asked why, Wukong said, “I’ve sent Wuhui to lead the White Dragon Horse over, so Master won’t have to walk so much.” Tang Seng praised, “Wukong is truly clever.” Hearing this, Zhu Bajie laughed and said, “Since I left Gao Laozhuang, I haven’t carried a load on this journey.” Soon, Wuhui arrived, leading the white horse at full speed. Upon seeing Tang Seng, the horse let out a long neigh, lifted off the ground, and leaped in front of him. Tang Seng mounted the horse, and only then could he focus on continuing his journey to Wuzhuang Temple. After walking for a while, Wukong suddenly remembered something. He recalled that the two Taoist boys, Qingfeng and Mingyue, had said that the ginseng fruits would become hard if left for too long. If he didn’t eat them now, they might lose their effectiveness, which would be a waste. But with everyone around, how could he eat them and cultivate his powers? In desperation, Wukong lied, saying, “Master, wait a moment. Someone has sent me a message to go to heaven for a while. You go ahead slowly and wait for me; I’ll be back soon.” He gave a vague answer, not mentioning who sent him, only saying he was going to heaven. Knowing that Wukong had magical powers, Tang Seng didn’t doubt him. But Zhu Bajie asked, “Who said that? I didn’t hear anything.” Wukong snapped, “I didn’t tell you, so how could you hear it?” Then he instructed Wuhui to slow down carefully, and he flew away on a cloud. Finding a secluded place with dense forests and lush foliage beneath a high mountain, he descended and sat on a stone platform, taking out the ginseng fruits one by one. Fortunately, he remembered in time—those dozen or so fruits indeed had wrinkled skins. Wukong couldn’t care less about others now; fearing they might be ruined, he stuffed the fruits into his mouth one after another. Though the ginseng fruits were refreshing, Wukong ate so many that he felt full.

After consuming all fourteen ginseng fruits, Wukong realized that the next step was the transformation of that energy. The forest was silent, and Wukong couldn’t help but feel a sense of fear. Though this transformation was beneficial, who knew if swallowing so much at once might bring disaster? But it was too late to regret now; he could only wait and see what would happen.

After a short while, the transformation indeed began slowly. This time, it came like a flood or a fierce beast. Inside Wukong’s dantian, the mass of energy spun at an unimaginable speed—hundreds of times faster than before.

Wukong felt a burning pain in his lower abdomen and nearly fainted, thinking he had caused trouble. He forced himself to stay focused, sensing the energy pouring into his dantian like an overflowing river, forming a turbulent vortex there.

With each rotation of the vortex, Wukong’s spiritual power increased slightly. The mass of energy spun like a top, and even as a Taiyi Golden Immortal, Wukong couldn’t count how many times it had rotated.

He endured for four whole hours, yet the mass of energy showed no sign of slowing down, and the intense pain in his dantian persisted. At this point, Wukong felt an unprecedented sense of fullness within his body. It turned out that his dantian alone could no longer hold all that energy, so it spread throughout his entire body.

There was still some energy from the ginseng fruits left untransformed, and judging by the situation, it would likely take at least another day to process it.

Half an hour later, Wukong’s entire body was filled with this energy, with threads of it seeping from all nine orifices. Panicked, Wukong realized this energy was extraordinary—each thread was pure beyond measure—and must not be wasted.

He used his spiritual power to contain it, trying to keep it confined to his dantian. This instinctive move happened to work; under pressure, the energy gradually solidified in his dantian, flowing like a liquid at a much slower pace.

Seeing this worked, Wukong redoubled his efforts, forcing all the energy in his body toward his dantian. By then, the energy from the ginseng fruits had been fully transformed, with ten out of the fourteen turning into a milky-white spiritual liquid in his dantian.

As the liquid accumulated, the remaining energy from the ginseng fruits didn’t flow downward but instead rose on its own, gathering in Wukong’s Niwan Palace, filling it completely.

Wukong joked to himself, “Wukong, Wukong—even if I empty my body, only my dantian remains full. I wonder if that’s the truth.” But why had so much energy gathered in his Niwan Palace? Was it a good thing or a bad one?

In fact, Wukong was unaware that in Taoist cultivation, the dantian is further divided into upper and lower dantians. The upper dantian represents the root of one’s nature, while the lower dantian is the foundation of life. The root of nature refers to the Niwan Palace. The Niwan Palace, being the celestial brain, is the spirit of the entire body; it can be called the sanctuary of all gods, the source of bodily fluids, and also the jade chamber of the soul and essence! The brains of ordinary people are empty, but those who practice Taoism fill them with true essence, thereby filling the entire being and illuminating the nine orifices, reaching the realm of a divine being beyond physical form.

The lower dantian, the foundation of life, is what is commonly referred to as the dantian; it is also known as the Guanyuan acupoint, where the vital energy converges and essence is stored.

Only by cultivating both the upper and lower dantians, that is, nature and life, can one grasp the true essence of cultivation. Most immortals know only about the lower dantian and ignore the upper one, using the Niwan Palace as a place to store the original spirit, thinking this constitutes cultivation of both, when in fact it is a grave mistake.

At that moment, Wukong’s mind suddenly became clear, and he recalled a passage spoken to him by Master Subhuti: “Since ancient times, ‘life and nature’ have referred to a person’s life. In the practice of Taoism, these two terms must be understood separately. One must know that ‘heavenly destiny is called nature.’ Human nature is bestowed by nature, as ordained by heaven. To live well, one must understand both nature and destiny… This nature is our innate good qualities, our true self, our Tao heart. Once its direction is set, it is extremely difficult to change.”

Wukong’s entire being was unified with nature and destiny; apart from these two, everything else was empty, perfectly in line with the Taoist principle that the Hunyuan essence is without size or boundaries, having neither inner nor outer aspects.

As Wukong’s upper and lower dantians were settled, suddenly, a miraculous phenomenon occurred!