Volume 4: The Revelation Unveiled Chapter 524: Three Scenes
In a daze, a large curtain unfolded in Wukong’s mind. Before the curtain was everything that had happened since he entered this vast furnace of the world, while behind it seemed to be stories taking place in another world.
In that sky, scenes that seemed familiar were unfolding—one after another. These scenes dated back tens of thousands of years. What made Wukong unable to hold back his excitement was that many familiar faces appeared among them.
Scene 1:
The sky was clear, the water calm—vast expanse after vast expanse, with waves as smooth as mirrors.
Suddenly, ripples appeared on the water’s surface. Hidden currents rose from the bottom, and then a dark object emerged above the water. Upon closer inspection, it was a fish fin. But how could there be such a giant fin, stretching thousands of miles long? Gradually, most of the fish’s body became visible. Wukong recognized it—it was exactly like the Kunpeng he had seen in the seas of his own world.
This was the Kun, before it transformed into a Peng!
Though the ocean stretched for thousands of miles, the Kun’s body was still thousands of miles long, making it feel quite confined here. It slowly rose to the surface, its inflexible head turning left and right. It exhaled, creating waves hundreds of feet high, seemingly dissatisfied with its surroundings.
Wukong couldn’t help but feel excited. Was what he was seeing the scene of the Kun transforming into a Peng? If so, he was truly fortunate.
The Kun’s body was dragon-like, extremely long and slender. Its smooth body had nothing but dorsal and caudal fins. Just then, a muffled groan came from the sea—full of pain. Two patches of blood-red appeared in the water, instantly turning it crimson.
Upon closer look, small wings had grown on either side of the Kun’s body, each only a few feet long. Yet these wings had pierced through the Kun’s flesh and emerged from within its body.
Watching the Kun suffer in the water, Wukong suddenly had an epiphany. The Kun longed for freedom, and on the path to freedom, pain was inevitable. The Kun originally had no wings; these wings arose from its endless desire for freedom. It was because of this resolve that it was able to leap out of the Northern Sea.
The wings grew larger and larger, and more blood flowed from the Kunpeng’s body. Yet the Kunpeng didn’t pause or hesitate in the slightest. It allowed its wings to grow, regardless of how weaker its body became.
Finally, the wings covered almost the entire ocean, which had now turned blood-red. The Kun’s long whiskers disappeared, its wide mouth closed, replaced by a long beak sharp as a spear. The Kun had finally transformed into a Peng!
Its long beak slightly parted as it let out a cry of heartfelt joy. The sound wasn’t loud, but hearing this unfamiliar cry—the cry of a roc—Kunpeng found strength somewhere within. It spread its wings and tried to fly like a bird.
Yet flying was no easy task. Fish in water and birds in the air each had their own habits and skills. Though Kunpeng was not an ordinary fish, it was still a fish. Even with wings, it was merely a large fish in the process of transforming into a bird.
Kunpeng’s wings struck the crimson water’s surface, sending up two waves of blood, but it only rose a few feet before falling back down, still above the water. Unfazed, it cried again. Those few feet were insignificant for its massive body, but it saw hope! Its own wings could give it the chance to fly!
From then on, Kunpeng flapped its wings every day. At first, it rose a few feet; after a few days, several dozen feet; and after months, it could leap miles high. Those newly grown wings flapped for three whole years. Finally, one day, Kunpeng lifted its entire body above the sea—it had flown! Unsteady and wobbling, as if it might fall at any moment, it had truly taken to the air.
A cry that pierced the heavens echoed across the sky. Kunpeng didn’t look back. It soared high, staring ahead, flying straight south! This was the legend of a fish!
Watching Kunpeng’s figure gradually fade into the distance, Wukong was filled with emotion. Kunpeng’s transformation was truly admirable and moving. This process of metamorphosis resembled a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, or sacrificing one’s life for righteousness. But this Kunpeng was much smaller than the one in the cosmic furnace…
Act Two:
Mountains rose towering and lush, with ancient trees everywhere. Here and there stood simple flagpoles, and camps were scattered across the landscape. The soldiers wore leather armor, wielded swords and spears, and their rugged appearances and bulging muscles conveyed an ancient, barbaric atmosphere.
In front of the camp stood a tall tower, with soldiers on top keeping watch. Suddenly, one of them raised a horn and blew it loudly.
“Woo—” The warning sound echoed, and over a thousand people rushed out of the camp. The one leading them was none other than Rùshōu!
A group of ferocious monsters rushed up from the mountains, driven by someone behind them. Rùshōu shouted, “The Jiuli monsters are attacking! Be careful!”
A fierce battle ensued, blood staining the wilderness. The monsters retreated, but hundreds of soldiers on the mountain were killed or wounded. Rùshōu’s double axes were covered in blood, drops falling and reddening the soil beneath his feet.
Wukong saw clearly the twin axes in Rushou’s hands—exactly the same as the two he used now, though Rushou’s cultivation was far weaker than it was now. At that moment, a thick mist drifted by, covering everything in front of them. When it cleared again, the scene had changed. On the plain, by the river, a tall and imposing man was running swiftly along the river, carrying a giant bow slung across his shoulder. If it wasn’t Hou Yi, then who could it be? In the river, a huge and terrifying beast was fleeing underwater. This beast was extremely frightening—having a dragon’s body and beast’s legs, wings under its armpits, and nine heads on its neck, from which it would sometimes spew poisonous water and fierce fire to block Hou Yi’s path. Hou Yi moved swiftly, dodging and weaving, and in no time reached the beast. Wukong suddenly remembered that Hou Yi had once said he had killed Jiu Ying on the waters of the fierce river—this must be that very beast! Hou Yi stopped, drew his bow, and released an arrow. The sound of the bowstring echoed as Jiu Ying hurriedly dived underwater. The arrow split into nine in midair, hitting each of Jiu Ying’s nine heads. Before Jiu Ying could even utter a scream, its body collapsed, and it sank to the bottom of the water. Hou Yi said solemnly, “By the order of Emperor Yao, I am here to exterminate Jiu Ying!” With that, he turned and left. Ever since he saw the Kunpeng take flight from the Northern Sea, Wukong had been pondering one thing: everything he saw was definitely not happening inside the cosmic furnace. It was outside the furnace, in the real world of heaven and earth. Now that he had reached the realm of spiritual clarity and recalled all past events, what he saw now was his own memory—real events that had taken place in the past. Why was Wukong so certain? Because Yin and Yang had once told him that during the first era, the Kunpeng appeared even later than the Divine Ape created by fate. And since the Kunpeng could clear the heavens once it appeared, it meant there was no such process as a Kun transforming into a Peng. Therefore, the transformation must have taken place outside the heavens, not inside the furnace. If that was the case, then Rushou and Hou Yi were also outside the heavens. And outside the heavens, there were even Kunpengs, Rushou, and Hou Yi? It was truly incredible! If they existed, could there be others as well—like the Three Pure Ones, the Mysterious Maiden, the Qilin, Zhenwu, and so on… At that moment, Act Three began: What a magnificent immortal mountain and sacred place! Towering pavilions stood on the summit, while springs below spewed pearls and jade-like water. There were towering strange rocks, graceful pine trees, people moving about like ants in an army, and visitors flowing like rivers without end. The temple on the summit: the sound of bells and incense rose into the blue sky; the immortal scenery here was like that of Penglai. Wukong looked around and saw that the mountain was tens of thousands of feet high, surrounded by the sea, with many isolated islands in the sea as well—all vast and boundless. Just by looking at this scene, he knew this mountain was extraordinary; probably no second one like it existed in the world.
Ascending the mountain path, he saw yet another extremely long path made of precious stones. On both sides of the street stood seven layers of precious walls, seven layers of barriers, seven layers of nets, and seven rows of trees—all crafted from gold, silver, crystal, colored glass, and other materials. Flowers and fruits flourished, fragrant winds blew everywhere, countless strange birds sang in harmony, and various ghosts and deities resided there. Along the way, the first thing he saw was the palaces of the Four Heavenly Kings. Four statues stood inside the palaces, looking exactly like the Four Heavenly Kings he had seen in the Heavenly Palace. Wukong became increasingly convinced that this place must be Buddha’s realm. At the top of the mountain, he saw a towering Zen temple. Outside the temple’s entrance stood a precious pagoda—thousands of feet high, reaching into the clouds, with its golden spire piercing the blue sky. Light shone from top to bottom, filling the universe, while there was no shadow to be seen from east to west. Going further inside, he heard the sounds of chanting and the master’s teachings echoing continuously. Wukong could clearly see that the plaque hanging above the hall read “Mahavira Hall”! Mahavira Hall? There was only one such hall in the world—the place where Buddha resided on Mount Ling in the Western Heaven. Could this really be Mount Ling? No! Mount Ling was far less majestic than this mountain; this must be a mountain beyond the heavens! From beyond the heavens, even the universe might seem like just another realm, so it was only natural for this mountain to be larger. Anxious, Wukong used his sharp eyes to look inside and saw a person seated on a throne in the center—with a solemn expression and an awe-inspiring presence. Wasn’t that none other than Buddha, the ruler of the world? Just then, the curtain fell, and the three scenes came to an abrupt end. Wukong still felt unsatisfied. It seemed he had watched three confusing plays with no beginning or end, leaving him with even more mysteries. At that moment, the voice of the Kunpeng rang in his ears, saying, “You’re awake. Why aren’t you moving?” This voice was different from before. Previously, the Kunpeng had only communicated with him through his spiritual senses, but now the voice was clear and audible. Wukong realized that his six senses had returned unnoticed. He opened his eyes and found himself high in the sky, with a huge black bird floating before him—of course, it was the Kunpeng. Wukong thought to himself, “I wonder if you still remember the moment when the Kun transformed into the Peng?” The Kunpeng glanced at Wukong and said, “It’s truly remarkable.” Wukong asked, “What’s remarkable about it?” The Kunpeng replied, “Even though you’re right in front of me, I still can’t believe that someone could truly reach a state of spiritual clarity within this universe.”
Wukong blinked. He found that his eyes, once shining brightly, had become plain and unremarkable, only slightly brighter than those of an ordinary person. As for his cultivation level, he had no idea how powerful it was; he felt not even a hint of coolness from the strong winds high in the sky. The Taiji diagram in his dantian rotated steadily, and with each rotation, countless vital energies were generated and sent to every corner of his body.