The air trembled with the echoes of battle.
Dust and shattered stone filled the clearing where Sun Wukong and Macaque stood, both heaving, both blood-streaked. The sky above the Flower-Fruit Mountain burned with the light of an angry sun.
Macaque: “Enough!"
Macaque shouted, his voice raw and trembling between fury and heartbreak.
Macaque: “You’ve gone too far this time, Wukong!”
Wukong bared his teeth, golden eyes glowing like molten fire.
Wukong: “You think you can lecture me?”
He snarled, gripping his staff so tightly it shook. “You—who betrayed me first?”
Macaque’s shadow moved before he did, striking from behind as his form blurred. Wukong twisted, parried—too slow. In one swift movement, Macaque’s clawed hand slashed across Wukong’s face.
A scream ripped through the air.
Blood—golden and shimmering—splattered across the rocks. Wukong stumbled back, clutching his left eye. “You—” he hissed, voice breaking into a growl. “You took my eye…”
Macaque froze, chest rising and falling sharply. “You left me no choice!”
But Wukong didn’t answer. His breath hitched—then turned into a snarl. The air seemed to darken around him. His tail bristled, fur standing on end, and his remaining eye gleamed with a feral, unrecognizable light.
“Wukong…?” Tang Sanzang’s voice trembled as he stepped forward from behind the rocks, flanked by Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing. “Control yourself—please—”
But the Monkey King didn’t hear him.
He lunged.
The roar that followed was not human—it was animal, primal. He slammed Macaque to the ground, claws digging into the shadow’s shoulder. Macaque struggled, summoning his shadows in defense, but Wukong’s strength was beyond reason now.
“WUKONG! STOP!” Macaque screamed, pushing back with all his might. “It’s me!”
The sound of their clash echoed like thunder through the mountains.
Tang tried to intervene, clutching his prayer beads, chanting in desperation. Zhu Bajie and Wujing moved to restrain Wukong, but he threw them aside with terrifying ease. His staff, once a symbol of discipline and power, now became a blur of chaos.
Macaque barely managed to escape by melting into the shadows, blood dripping from his torn shoulder. His expression was torn between guilt and fear. “He’s lost control…” he muttered.
Then, suddenly—
A faint crack.
Ao Lie, who had been searching the battlefield for cover, stumbled upon a half-buried object near the edge of the clearing. A soft pulse of energy emanated from it—ancient, alive. “What… what is this?” he whispered, brushing the dirt away.
It was a stone egg. Smooth, cold, and faintly glowing.
The moment Wukong’s gaze caught the light of that glow, everything stopped. His furious breathing slowed. His claws loosened.
“Wukong?” Tang called cautiously.
But the Monkey King didn’t answer. He stumbled toward Ao Lie like someone in a trance, the wildness in his eye softening into confusion—then into something fragile, almost tender.
Ao Lie flinched as Wukong knelt before him, trembling hands reaching for the egg. “It’s… it’s warm,” Wukong whispered, voice breaking. His thumb brushed over the stone’s surface as if it were the cheek of a child.
The others watched in stunned silence as the same warrior who had just tried to tear them apart now cradled the egg close to his chest.
Tang dared to take a step forward. “Wukong… are you… alright?”
Wukong didn’t look up. “It’s alive,” he murmured. “It’s… mine.”
Macaque appeared from the shadows again, panting, clutching his wound. His tone was heavy, uncertain. “Yours? Wukong… that’s just a rock.”
The Monkey King shot him a glare—no, not of rage this time, but warning. “Don’t touch it.” His tail coiled protectively around the egg, his body hunching as if shielding it from the world.