After bidding farewell to the monster, Hoghor unrolled the worn-out parchment containing the promised address. However, his face immediately twisted in frustration upon seeing the barely legible, chicken-scratch handwriting.
"Girmora, can you read this?" Hoghor asked, holding the paper out.
Girmora shook his head. "Sorry, Master. It's messier than my hair in the morning."
Sun Wukong leapt onto Hoghor's shoulder to peek at the paper. "Ah! I recognize this handwriting. It's the signature style of the Sylphs from the Red Desert. They write with their eyes closed because they claim it helps them 'feel the soul of the letters.'"
Hoghor let out a long sigh. "So... how do we read it?"
"Easy!" Sun Wukong grinned widely. "We just need to stand on one leg, spin three times, and hum a Sylph folk song."
Girmora stared at Sun Wukong in disbelief. "You're joking, right?"
"Of course!" Sun Wukong laughed. "But the address points to the Whispering Forest, home of the Dryads. The friend we're looking for is a Dryad named Yggdra."
Hoghor, the usually fierce-looking demon, looked somewhat uneasy. "Dryads? Those tree creatures? The last time I met a Dryad, they tried to grow flowers on my horns."
They began their journey toward the Whispering Forest, with Hoghor occasionally patting his horns protectively, Girmora remaining vigilant, and Sun Wukong hopping around cheerfully while humming a tune of unknown origin. Their journey to Edna was still long, but at least they had a new lead—though it meant dealing with garden-loving Dryads who didn't always respect boundaries.
Their path shifted from wide grasslands to suspicious marshlands. Pools of greenish water bubbled ominously, making noises that sounded oddly like... flatulence.
"Is this normal?" Hoghor asked, lifting his mud-caked foot.
"Oh, just regular marsh gas," Sun Wukong replied nonchalantly. "Or maybe the farts of a sleeping Marsh Dragon below."
Girmora instantly jumped onto Hoghor's back. "MARSH DRAGON?!"
"Just kidding!" Sun Wukong burst into laughter. "Marsh Dragons went extinct thousands of years ago. Now, it's just oversized catfish that enjoy snacking on demons."
Hoghor glared. "Not funny."
Carefully, they trudged through the slippery swamp, with Hoghor's large frame occasionally sinking into the muck. His long horns served as impromptu handles for Girmora to hold onto—much to Hoghor's growing headache.
After hours of navigating the treacherous marsh, the Whispering Forest finally came into view. The trees were unlike any ordinary trees—they swayed as if dancing, and upon closer inspection, faint faces could be seen etched into their trunks.
"Finally!" Sun Wukong exclaimed. "But remember, there are a few important rules here. First, never comment on a Dryad's appearance. Second, never—"
Before he could finish, a bright red bird swooped down and dropped something squarely onto Hoghor's horn.
"—get hit by Phoenix droppings," Sun Wukong finished, barely suppressing laughter.
Hoghor looked up at the sky with a weary expression. "Why is it always my horns?"
"At least it's a sign of good luck," Girmora tried to console him. "Phoenix droppings are rare, after all."
"Yeah, but no one said if the luck would be good or bad," Hoghor grumbled, trying to clean his horns with the nearest leaf.
When they reached the forest edge, the trees whispered amongst themselves in a language only they seemed to understand. Younger trees even giggled, eyeing the remnants of Phoenix droppings still on Hoghor's horns.
"So," Hoghor cleared his throat, ignoring the barely stifled laughter, "how do we find this Yggdra?"
"Oh, that's easy," Sun Wukong replied. "We just ask these trees. They're the best gossips around."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING GOSSIPS?!" an old oak bellowed nearby.
"See? Immediate response," Sun Wukong said with a wink.
The situation escalated as the trees began arguing over who was the worst gossip. A maple accused a birch of spreading rumors about a "love triangle between Spring Fairies and two Autumn Fairies," while an elderly willow insisted it only shared "important information for the community's benefit."
Hoghor, Girmora, and Sun Wukong stood awkwardly in the middle of the spirited debate.
"Maybe we came at the wrong time?" Girmora whispered.
"No, this is perfect," Sun Wukong grinned, clearing his throat loudly. "Hey! Anyone know the latest gossip about Yggdra?"
Instantly, the forest fell silent. Every tree stopped moving.
"Yggdra?" a gentle voice called from the distance. "Ah, are you looking for Yggdra by the crystal waterfall? I heard she recently got some anti-shedding leaf serum from a traveling merchant."
"NO!" another tree shouted. "It's Yggdra from the mossy cave, who was caught dating a Wind Fairy last week!"
And so, the gossip about various Yggdras began to swirl. Hoghor smacked his forehead, realizing their quest might take longer than expected. But with so much "information" floating around, one lead was bound to point them to the right Yggdra.
As they were still processing the swirling rumors about Yggdra, the atmosphere in the Whispering Woods suddenly shifted. A cold wind swept through the trees, replacing their cheerful whispers with frightened hisses. The sky darkened in mere seconds.
"Someone is coming," Sun Wukong whispered, his cheerful demeanor replaced by seriousness. "Something incredibly powerful."
The moment Sun Wukong finished his sentence, a black-robed figure appeared before them. Without a word, the figure raised a hand, and in an instant, all the trees around them withered. Leaves turned black and fell, accompanied by the anguished cries of the Dryads inhabiting them.
"No…" Girmora staggered, feeling the life energy around him being drained. As a being connected to nature, he could sense every fading life.
Hoghor clenched his teeth. As a demon, he was accustomed to death and destruction. But this… this was different. It was a massacre without reason.
"Are you seeking the path to Edna?" the black-robed figure finally spoke, his voice as cold as piercing ice. "Unfortunately, you must die here. No one shall reach Edna."
"Who are you to dare stop—" Hoghor's words were cut off as the figure appeared before him in a flash, gripping his neck with an icy hand.
"MASTER!" Girmora screamed, trying to attack with his fire magic, but the figure only scoffed. With a single motion, he hurled Hoghor into a nearby tree and sent a wave of ice that froze Girmora's legs.
Sun Wukong leaped with his staff, attempting an aerial strike, but the figure vanished like smoke. "He's not an ordinary being," Sun Wukong muttered, narrowing his eyes cautiously.
"You are weak," the figure reappeared. "A demon searching for his identity? A loyal servant who is powerless? And… ah, Sun Wukong. A hero who has lost almost all his strength. Pathetic."
Hoghor slowly rose, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. The figure's words struck directly at his deepest insecurity. He was, after all, a demon unsure of his purpose or identity.
"Master… forgive me…" Girmora sobbed, feeling he had failed to protect his lord. All his efforts to prove himself seemed meaningless in this critical moment.
Sun Wukong stood still, his staff trembling in his hands. It was true—he had lost most of his power after that incident. He tried to hide it behind jokes and a carefree attitude, but his wounds had never truly healed.
"Look at yourselves," the figure hissed. "Three pathetic beings pretending to defy fate. Now, die with the awareness of your insignificance—"
"QUIET!" Hoghor roared, his aura flaring crimson-black. "Maybe I don't know who I am. Maybe I'm a lost demon. But at least I'm not a coward hiding behind a cloak and empty words!"
Girmora closed his eyes, focusing all his energy. The ice around his legs began to crack. "I may be weak... but I will fight to my last breath for Master Hoghor!"
Sun Wukong gripped his staff tightly. "And I… maybe I'm not as strong as I used to be. But if there's one thing experience has taught me…" he smiled, but this time it wasn't his usual playful grin, "…it's that true strength doesn't always come from oneself."
The black-robed figure hesitated, sensing the shift in energy from his three opponents. Hoghor, with his burning demonic aura, Girmora, with his unwavering resolve to protect, and Sun Wukong, with the wisdom of a "fallen" Buddha.
In the midst of the fierce battle, the hooded figure proved that their power levels were worlds apart. Every attack from Hoghor and Girmora was like a breeze—Hoghor's usually terrifying demon aura amounted to nothing more than a faint ripple before him.
"You still don't understand," the figure said, raising his hand. In an instant, Hoghor and Girmora were hurled in opposite directions, their bodies crashing hard into the withered trees. "The gap between our strengths is like the heavens and the earth."
Hoghor struggled to rise, but his body felt shattered. Blood poured from his numerous wounds, and his breath came in shallow gasps. "Girmora… are you okay?"
Girmora coughed, attempting to crawl toward his master despite his trembling body. "M-master… forgive me… I…"
"Don't push yourself," Hoghor tried to smile, though it came out as a grimace of pain. For the first time, he wasn't thinking of his identity or of Edna. The only thing on his mind was Girmora's safety.
Meanwhile, Sun Wukong stood still, his eyes closed. His golden staff was embedded in the ground, his body cloaked in a faint golden aura. The hooded figure watched him with interest.
"Ah, trying to awaken your old powers? It's pointless. You lost that right long ago when—"
"Silence," Sun Wukong's tone shifted, no longer playful. "It's true. I lost my powers. I was cast out of Heaven. I forfeited my title as Buddha. But…" his eyes slowly opened, revealing an increasingly brilliant golden light, "…I never lost myself."
The ground around Sun Wukong began to tremble. Winds whipped through the forest, carrying the scent of incense and silk. The hooded figure stepped back, sensing a familiar shift in energy.
"Impossible…" he hissed. "Buddha's power cannot—"
"You're wrong," Sun Wukong smiled serenely. "Buddha's power isn't about levels or status. It's about enlightenment. About releasing one's ego…" he glanced at Hoghor, who was still shielding Girmora, "…about loving others more than oneself."
Sun Wukong's golden aura exploded, filling the entire forest. The withered trees gradually came back to life, and the dryads' shrieks turned into whispers of awe.
"Impossible!" the hooded figure screamed as his body burned under the holy light. "How can this be… you should've—"
"Because," Sun Wukong fully opened his eyes, radiating wisdom forged over millennia, "I never fought for myself."
His golden staff shone brightly, returning to its full size, reaching the heavens. Sacred mantra tattoos appeared on his skin, and his yellow robe billowed in the divine wind. For a moment, the legendary Monkey King returned.
But then his body began to tremble. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"Forgive me, my friends," he coughed, the light in his eyes starting to dim. "It seems… this will be the last time."
"Sun Wukong!" Hoghor yelled, forcing his battered body to rise. He knew what this meant—awakening his lost Buddha power meant burning his own soul.
"Don't worry," Sun Wukong smiled, this time genuinely. "I've lived far too long. It's time… to atone for my sins."
With one final motion, he swung his staff. A golden light shot forth like a comet, piercing the hooded figure, who screamed in agony. But at the same time, Sun Wukong's body began to crack like porcelain, his light rapidly fading.
"Hoghor… Girmora…" his voice started to vanish. "Thank you… for reminding me… what true friendship means."
His body shattered into countless fragments of light, ascending to the sky like golden fireflies, leaving behind his golden staff, now back to its original size, and his yellow robe gently falling to the ground.
Hoghor and Girmora could only stand in silence, tears streaming down their faces. The hooded figure was gone, leaving only scorched remnants of his form.
The Whispering Forest grew quiet once more. This time, the trees' whispers sounded like a mournful song.
Amidst the heartbreaking silence, Hoghor stared at the last fragment of Sun Wukong's light floating in the air. His hand trembled as he grasped the golden staff left by his friend.
"No," his voice was hoarse. "I won't let you go like this."
"Master…" Girmora whispered, sensing the shift in his master's energy.
"I've always searched for my true self," Hoghor stepped into the center of the battlefield. "Always wondering who I am, what my purpose is…" His black and crimson aura began to swirl, but this time it was different. There was sadness in it, compassion, and sacrifice.
"And you…" he gazed at the fragment of Sun Wukong's light, "you taught me that identity isn't about who we are but for whom we exist."
Hoghor began releasing his power, fracturing the demon essence that formed the core of his being. Each shard carried a different potential, each fragment holding the promise of a new world.
"MASTER! STOP!" Girmora screamed, realizing what his master was doing. "If you break your essence like that…"
"It's alright, Girmora," Hoghor smiled, for the first time truly at peace. "I finally understand. My demon power… wasn't meant to destroy. It was meant to create."
The sky began to quake as Hoghor continued breaking his power apart. Thousands, even millions of possible worlds were formed in an instant. In every world, there was a piece of Sun Wukong's soul, a fragment of his existence.
"See, Wukong," Hoghor chuckled weakly as blood began streaming from his eyes, "I can create worlds too. Not just destroy them."
Girmora watched with tearful eyes as his master's body started losing its form, transforming into pure energy that kept dividing and creating.
"In one world, you never fell from Heaven," Hoghor whispered. "In another, you remained a Buddha. In yet another… we met earlier, as friends from the start…"
The fragments of Sun Wukong's light began resonating with the newly formed worlds. Slowly, his form began to reappear, piecing together from the infinite possibilities.
"Master… stop…" Girmora sobbed. "You will…"
"Girmora," Hoghor looked at him with fading eyes, "thank you for being my loyal servant. But from now on… be my friend."
Hoghor's body grew increasingly transparent, each particle of his existence unraveling into creative energy. But before him, Sun Wukong fully took shape once more, more solid than ever.
"And Wukong," Hoghor whispered as his consciousness faded, "I think I've found my true self. I am… a friend."
With those final words, Hoghor disappeared completely, leaving behind a vortex of energy still birthing new worlds. From that energy, Sun Wukong opened his eyes, reborn with restored power.
"Hoghor…" Sun Wukong fell to his knees, tears streaming down his usually jovial face. "You… foolish demon…"
The Whispering Forest fell silent once more. This time, even the trees dared not whisper. All that remained was Girmora sobbing quietly and Sun Wukong clutching his golden staff.