Master Elder Brother of the Journey to the West
As the saying goes: embellishing a tale is not the same as fabricating it, and adaptation is not the same as distortion. When Hu Rong, an urban youth with no job, no house, no car, and no savings, die
Just past noon, a black demonic wind swept over the jagged peaks of Ox-Head Mountain. Dull yellow dust swirled in the wind, drifting through the remnants of shattered walls, letting out a mournful wail.
As the entire Ox-Head Mountain drew ever closer to the blazing sun, explosions echoed on all sides—fire erupted with crackling fury, banishing every trace of late autumn’s chill.
“My beloved is a hero without equal. One day he will don golden armor and ride upon a cloud of seven colors to take me as his bride…”
Blood glistened at the corner of Zixia Fairy’s lips. She gazed up at Sun Wukong, who clutched her tightly, and forced out her final words: “I guessed the beginning… but could never have foreseen this ending…”
“Zixia…” Sun Wukong hovered in the air, cradling the now lifeless fairy. His heart was a void of despair and agony.
The golden circlet upon his brow tightened ever more, but Sun Wukong refused to release Zixia’s body, holding her close until the pain nearly split his skull in two. At last, unable to withstand it, he let her go—
Her body was swept away by the howling wind toward the west. Sun Wukong pressed one hand to his throbbing head, the other trying desperately to grasp Zixia’s hand. He groaned, beset by a pain both physical and spiritual, immeasurable in its torment.
At last, her corpse faded from view, lost to the storm. Sun Wukong abandoned the strictures of Buddhist doctrine. His face contorted with rage, fangs bared, he soared high and brought his staff crashing down upon the Ox King’s skull.
“I will ha