Chapter 175: Unusual Encounter
The sky above Jade Heaven shimmered.
Clouds stretched like oceans, palaces of jade and pearl floating upon their backs. Towers gleamed, draped with banners that carried the seal of the Celestial Court. And beyond them, hidden behind walls of mist and guarded paths, lay the orchard that no mortal, spirit, or demon was meant to touch.
The Peach Garden.
The trees here were older than dynasties. Their roots curled through the clouds, their branches stretched high enough to scrape the stars. The fruit they bore was rare, each peach swollen with light, its skin glowing faintly pink as though painted with dawn. They did not ripen like mortal fruit. Some took three thousand years to mature. Others six. The rarest took nine thousand, and to taste one was to know immortality.
Which was why it was forbidden.
And why the Monkey King’s grin split ear to ear as he crouched on a branch, tail flicking lazily.
"Well now," Wukong murmured, golden eyes gleaming. "They said heaven had treasures. They weren’t lying."
He licked his lips, his claws tapping against the bark as he scanned the orchard. Celestial maidens wandered among the rows, their robes white and pink, carrying baskets of peaches for the Queen Mother of the West. Guards lined the edges, halberds gleaming. The air itself seemed to hum with divine weight.
But Sun Wukong was not afraid.
He was amused.
"Let’s see if peaches taste sweeter when stolen."
–––
He blurred.
One heartbeat he was crouched on the branch, the next he was gone, a streak of gold that the guards never saw. His staff shrank, slid into his ear, and the Monkey King became nothing more than a breeze. He darted between maidens, slipped past halberds, and with a flick of his wrist, plucked the first peach.
Its skin glowed against his palm. The scent of it filled his nose, rich, sharp, older than time itself. Wukong bit into it. Juice ran down his chin, and his eyes widened.
"Ahh," he sighed, swallowing greedily. "Sweet as thunder, soft as silk." He laughed, the sound bubbling. "One peach, and I could live a thousand years. Imagine if I had... two."
He didn’t stop at two.
–––
The Monkey King tore through the orchard like a storm in silk. He devoured peaches by the dozen, his mouth sticky with juice, his laughter ringing across the branches. He leapt from tree to tree, his tail swinging, his claws scattering petals into the air. He ate the peaches that ripened in three thousand years, then the six, then the rare nine thousand–year fruit that pulsed like suns in his hands.
"Immortality?" he cackled, tossing a pit aside. "Bah! Let’s make it immortalities."
Maidens shrieked when they caught sight of him, dropping baskets as they fled. Guards rushed, spears thrusting, but Wukong bent his body, twisting through them like smoke. He plucked their helmets, clanged them together, and sent them tumbling from the clouds, laughing as their curses faded into the distance.
The orchard was chaos. Trees shook, petals rained like storms, peaches rolled across the clouds. And in the heart of it, Sun Wukong stood on the highest branch, both arms cradling fruit, his grin wild.
"Your peaches," he shouted to the empty sky, "now belong to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven!"
–––
And then he was gone.
With a flick, his staff grew long, striking the ground as he vaulted out of the orchard. His body blurred into golden streaks as he bounded across the skies, laughter trailing behind him. The guards gave chase, their cries echoing, but none could match his speed. Wukong’s shadow danced across towers, palaces, and clouds until heaven itself seemed mocked by his mischief.
–––
But fate had a sense of humor.
He was racing through the clouds, mouth still full of peach flesh, when his body collided with another. Hard.
Both figures tumbled, rolling across the sky until they landed with a crash on a floating terrace. Tiles cracked under their weight.
Wukong spat out half a peach and growled, scrambling to his feet. His tail lashed, his staff spinning into his hand. "Who dares block the Great Sage Equal to Heaven?"
The other figure rose slowly, dusting off his armor. A boy’s face, smooth, sharp, framed by three lotus petals that glowed faintly. His hair tied high, his eyes bright with the fire of a star. In his hands, a blazing spear. At his waist, two other weapons shimmered—unmistakable, divine.
Nezha.
The child god of war.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at the monkey chewing on peach juice. "You must be the one causing the noise in the orchard."
Wukong laughed, spinning his staff, peach pits clattering at his feet. "Noise? That was music. You’re welcome for the show."
Nezha’s grip tightened on his spear. "You stole the Queen Mother’s peaches. You mock the Celestial Court." His voice was calm, but steel ran under it. "Return what you’ve taken."
Wukong tilted his head, golden eyes glinting. "Return? But I’ve eaten them all. Unless you’d like to scrape the juice from my fur?" He leaned forward, baring his teeth in a grin. "Try it, little lotus."
The air between them burned.
Nezha planted his feet, fire swirling around his ankles, the wind rising at his back. His spear pointed straight at Wukong’s chest. "Then you leave me no choice."
Wukong’s tail flicked. His staff grew, stretching tall as a mountain, its shadow falling over Nezha. "At last," he said, excitement bright in his voice. "Someone worth hitting."
–––
The terrace trembled as the two lunged.
Nezha’s spear struck first, a flash of red fire tearing through the sky. Wukong twisted, the shaft of his staff catching the blow, sparks scattering like fireworks. The clash rang like thunder, shaking towers across the heavens.
The Monkey King laughed, his teeth flashing. "Not bad for a child."
Nezha snarled, flipping midair, his Fire-tipped Spear spinning with blinding speed. Flames roared, wrapping the terrace in heat. "And not bad for a thief."
Their weapons struck again, again, each blow rattling the clouds. Staff against spear, mischief against discipline.
–––
Maidens and soldiers gathered at the edge of the terrace, eyes wide as they watched. The air shook with every clash, the tiles cracked, and the heavens themselves seemed to lean closer.
The Monkey King spun his staff, striking low, striking high, his laughter ringing wild. Nezha answered every blow, his spear a flash of fire and steel. Neither yielded.
And above them, hidden behind clouds, the storm of Olympus began to stir.
–––
Word spread fast. A monkey born of stone had eaten the peaches of immortality. A child god of war had met him in battle. And soon, the name Sun Wukong was no longer whispered in temples.
It was shouted.