Hearing this, I generally understood what was happening, so I slowly edged closer to the real Wukong.

The fake Wukong ignored us, merely chuckling sinisterly at Wukong.

Then, with a flip of his right hand, he conjured the Ruyi Jingu Bang; with a flip of his left, he shockingly produced a bloody human head.

No, on closer inspection, it wasn't a human head, but a fat-headed, large-eared visage resembling both a man and a pig.

"Bajie! You actually killed Bajie!" Sun Wukong's fur stood on end, radiating immense anger.

A wave of aura burst from him, actually manifesting as a hurricane.

I felt a massive force push me to the ground, and the others experienced the same.

Just the mere eruption of rage possessed such power; I truly couldn't imagine the effect if these two actually began to fight.

Wukong glanced at us, his eyes icy, yet the words he spoke were: "Find a place to hide."

We felt Wukong's concern and were deeply moved; had he not come to save us, we surely would have died just moments ago.

The opposing fake Wukong remained silent for a moment, then spoke: "Not just your gluttonous second junior brother, but them as well."

As he spoke, the fake Wukong pointed to a horse corpse and the body of a tall monk lying nearby.

I saw that the two corpses were already highly decomposed, but I could still recognize the White Dragon Horse and Sha Seng.

"How could you be so vicious!" Wukong tightened his grip on the Ruyi Jingu Bang.

The fake Wukong burst into loud laughter and said, "Did you think I was some ordinary demon? Not eating Tang Sanzang when I catch him, not killing your junior brothers when I capture them—I intend to slaughter them all, to make you suffer endlessly!"

Wukong's voice deepened significantly as he asked, "You mean, Master he..."

The fake Wukong replied, "Indeed, but Tang Sanzang is the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada. Even if I devour him, he will descend again in a few hundred years. That is my only regret."

For some reason, when the fake Wukong said this, he was looking directly at me.

I thought to myself, This is utterly absurd! Do I actually have some connection to the Golden Cicada? Is the reason Wukong takes such care of us actually because of this?

Before the fake Wukong could finish, Wukong was beyond furious. Gritting his teeth, he ordered us: "Hurry up and leave! Are you waiting here to die?"

The three of us exchanged glances. Though we hadn't discussed it, we spoke in unison: "Master! We will stay and help you!"

Wukong paused, then roared in fury: "Do you think I can't beat him? Leave now, or don't blame me for being impolite!"

The three of us insisted on staying, simply standing there and watching him.

At this moment, the fake Wukong on the opposite side sneered, gripping one end of his Ruyi Jingu Bang, while the other end grew larger and larger, eventually taking the shape of a mace.

However, the enlarged end was clearly far more exaggerated than any ordinary mace.

Immediately, the fake Wukong swung the staff and swept it towards us. The momentum was utterly destructive; everywhere it passed, stones and trees turned into clouds of flying fragments.

Seeing this, Wukong opened his mouth and blew a breath, sending the three of us flying backward over ten meters, before he brought his own staff up to block the incoming blow.

While we were still in the air, a colossal clang echoed, and boundless shockwaves spread out from the point where the two staves collided, carrying a world-shattering aura that swept everything around us away.

Before we landed, it felt as though our faces had slammed into a wall, sending us flying upward like broken kites, before we plummeted into the distance.

When we finally hit the ground, we found ourselves five or six hundred meters away from where the two were battling.

It was fortunate I used my psychic power to cushion the descent for the three of us; otherwise, we would certainly have sustained some injuries.

All three of us were dizzy to the point of nausea, and the first thing we did upon struggling up was lean against a tree and vomit.

Then we noticed we couldn't even stand steadily; every few seconds, a new shockwave would wash over us.

Looking toward the location of the Great Sage's duel, we saw the sky filled with shattered leaves and rock fragments. Occasionally, one or two fists were tossed high into the air, and it was impossible to tell if they were men or stones.

In short, the destructive power was more terrifying than a nuclear explosion. The surrounding forest was utterly ruined, reduced to a desolate wasteland.

Our current position was still far too close to the battlefield; we were in danger of collateral damage at any moment.

At this point, the three of us abandoned our naive idea of helping Wukong and swiftly fled in the direction away from the battle.

As I walked, my blood boiled with excitement, because recalling the monster-fighting episodes in Journey to the West, they now seemed like mere child's play.

Battling while wielding a staff weighing tens of thousands of pounds—that kind of visual impact could never be conveyed by television.

The current scene was what a battle should look like when Wukong unleashes his true strength: feet striking the ground causing mountains to tremble, palms clapping together sending energy piercing the clouds—how could such combat fail to stir the heart?

The other two also showed traces of excitement on their faces, but beneath that was more worry for Wukong.

Because the fake Wukong was surely the Six-Eared Macaque described in Journey to the West. His strength was almost equal to the Great Sage's, and if they truly fought, it was genuinely uncertain who would win or lose.

However, to know the outcome, we first had to ensure our own survival.

Fleeing continuously, we soon saw a mountain towering hundreds of meters ahead.

This mountain was peculiar; the trees on it were sparse, and the exposed black rock took on a blood-red hue under the setting sun's afterglow.

After exerting great effort to cross this steeply sloped peak, we discovered a pitch-black cave on the other side.

The cave's position perfectly shielded us from Wukong's duel site, so we decided to take shelter there temporarily and look for Master after the battle concluded.

Lighting our flashlights, we walked into the cave and soon saw signs of animal activity, though they were only paw prints from small creatures, suggesting no particularly fierce beasts inhabited the area.

Moreover, the cave was very shallow; it couldn't house any large animals.

Dripping from the ceiling were numerous stalactites of various colors, indicating the cave held rich mineral deposits.

The air in this cave was very fresh, and the temperature was slightly warmer than outside, making it a good refuge from nocturnal beasts.

However, whenever Wukong and his counterpart engaged in a fierce clash outside, the cave would shake violently, constantly shedding stone dust. I worried the entire mountain might collapse.

We waited in the cave for the battle to end, but by midnight, with wild beasts howling and insects chirping outside, the fight still hadn't stopped.

These two were like monsters with inexhaustible strength, continuously bombarding each other with the power of nuclear explosions.

However, compared to the intensity during dusk, their rhythm was much slower.

Although the three of us worried about Wukong, we had no desire to sacrifice ourselves—characters like Zhu Bajie and Sha Seng had died so terribly; we were barely worth more than ants in comparison.

But thinking of the deaths of Zhu Bajie and the others, I found it incredible, because these figures didn't originally exist; they only formed as thought-bodies because of people's imaginations.

Yet, judging by Wukong's rage, these individuals seemed capable of truly vanishing. Could it be that thought-bodies can also die?

I couldn't figure it out until Nie Chuan's words reminded me.

He said: "Thought-bodies must have a way to die. People's ideas about someone like Sun Wukong are almost universal: invincible, the God of War, temperamental, occasionally playful. Thus, everyone's spiritual energy creates a singular Wukong. But no one clearly knows the personalities of Sha Seng and the White Dragon Horse, leading to the creation of multiple Sha Sengs and White Dragon Horses. The companions accompanying Wukong here must be those Wukong understood best, those closest to reality; they are irreplaceable. If they die, their psychic remnants will definitely vanish."

When he reached this point, I felt it made perfect sense. At least in this story, they were dead. Wukong would have to start a new search if he wanted to find Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing again.

Furthermore, if people's collective thoughts generated countless Sha Sengs and White Dragon Horses, then each one would possess its own distinct temperament, essentially having an individual personality and memory. By common sense, what allows a person to know they are still themselves is the accumulation of memory and personality over time, which cannot be replicated.

Therefore, the death of the thought-bodies of the White Dragon Horse and Sha Wujing meant that, within this world, two genuine individuals had died.

Nie Chuan and I analyzed this, which gave Da Xiong a headache, but he still expressed his sadness in the end.

Listening to the combat sounds outside gradually fade, the three of us could hold out no longer and decided to sleep first.

Logically, we shouldn't be able to sleep while Master fought for his life outside, but the day's experiences had been exhausting.

Even though I could now use meditation to replace sleep, the drowsiness was overwhelming.

I don't know when it happened, but all three of us drifted into a deep sleep.

It wasn't until I felt someone walking in from the cave entrance that I suddenly woke up.

But when I opened my eyes, the view outside the entrance was the pale, whitening sky; there wasn't a soul in sight.

I was about to lie back down when I realized the sound of fighting had ceased.

Just then, a hand covered in coarse yellow fur rested on my shoulder.

I jumped in fright and turned around to see Wukong, completely covered in blood, looking at me with eyes that suggested he was utterly spent.

"Are you... Master?" I asked quietly.

Wukong nodded and said, "I remembered some things, so I came back for you. I remembered how my primordial spirit was destroyed; yes, it was right here..."