He glanced at Gong Shuren, who still lay kneeling down before where the Sea God Crown had been. If anyone felt worse than he did, it was her. The crown princess had failed in securing the Sea God Crown and could no longer become empress. Moreover, it seemed like she would have succeeded if any other champion had accompanied her. Zhou Li had known all along and encouraged her to invite him. He’d manipulated her judgment, and as a result, ruined her.
“It seems meeting Yu Wen in this life is hopeless,” Cha Ming said with a weak, desperate laugh. Sun Wukong’s soul materialized near him and patted him on the back. Cha Ming flinched but soon relaxed. “Why are the heavens so spiteful?”
Sun Wukong closed his eyes and sighed. “Indeed, why are the heavens so spiteful? They gave you a brush to change your life only to bar your path repeatedly. Your life would have been peaceful without it.”
The Monkey King walked around and felt one of the soft pillars in the room. Though it looked brand new, its aura was ancient. Was it fifty thousand years old? Five hundred thousand? Five million?
“I, too, once obtained the Clear Sky Brush,” Sun Wukong continued. “I was a lot luckier in my journey than you were. I was born in a transcendent realm, and I used that brush to become a king among my people. Unlike most of my kin, I didn’t follow the path of a demon, but that of an immortal. I ascended to the heavens, and do you know what I found?”
“Disappointment, I’d imagine,” Cha Ming said. He’d heard a rendition of the story before.
“They looked down on me,” Sun Wukong said. “They tried to put me in charge of a stable. Then a universe war broke out. Devils scrambled out from every corner of the universe, attacking the seven heavens, transcendent planes, and mortal planes alike. I fought with everything I had, and I even killed a devil emperor. But despite my best efforts, the heavens still hated me. When I complained, Guanyin herself sealed me inside the staff as its ‘treasure spirit.’ Huh. As if I qualified to be this treasure’s spirit. So, I understand how you feel more than anyone. It’s a feeling that gnaws away at you and makes you yearn to turn over a darker leaf, if just to spit in heaven’s eye.”
“Why didn’t you?” Cha Ming asked softly.
“Because the heavens aren’t spiteful,” Sun Wukong said. “And they don’t coddle us either. They simply are. One aeon, they favor the righteous. Another, they favor the wicked. It’s a cycle that keeps the world going, and all of us that suffer are just caught up in the collateral damage. The heavens are doing their job. They keep us on our toes, and when we get soft, they throw something at us to sharpen us and change us.”
“Just doing their job,” Cha Ming said, chuckling softly. Then he began laughing hysterically with tears streaming down his face. “Well, it could always be worse.”
“That’s right,” Sun Wukong said. “You have friends, a brother to rely on. And, might I add, an overprotective teacher.”
Cha Ming smiled at that one.
Sun Wukong motioned to the woman still kneeling on the dais. “She’s got it worse. Not only did she lose the throne, but she’ll have to marry the one who defeated her, someone she doesn’t like, and give him as many children as possible. And she’ll have no choice in the matter. Those from Haijing can’t disobey their Emperor, at least not easily.”
Cha Ming looked at her pityingly. He didn’t know what to say. Likely, anything he said would just make matters worse. Still, he cursed his wretched luck. Karma was clearly not looking out for him like it should. But then again, he should have known better than to expect the best because of something silly like good karma. Fate favored the righteous, but it couldn’t always do that. Bad things happened to good people too, just like good things happened to bad people. It was the way of the world, and without this basic fact, people wouldn’t have a chance to be people. There would be no difficult choices to make.
Sighing, Cha Ming closed his eyes again. He sat in the pool of blood that had dripped from his own clenched fists and closed his eyes to rest.
Huxian was sad. He could feel his brother’s pain and suffering, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t feel the princess’s suffering, but he could smell it. Sadness was thick in the air. He didn’t like sadness; happiness and playfulness were much better options. He also didn’t like losing. Winning was much better. They were experiencing both these bad things, and he was keen on rectifying it.
He sighed as he looked about the room. They hadn’t left since the battle, as they were still recovering, both physically and mentally. Their opponents had gone, and the room, which had suffered a substantial amount of collateral damage, was repairing itself. It regenerated with every tick of the clock that loomed over them and the three daises.
He growled at the clock. He didn’t like it, as it made him feel powerless. The clock was the most powerful object in the room, and he was certain it was responsible for the structure repairing itself. Moreover, he felt that it wasn’t a miniature version of the clock tower on the outside, but an incarnation of it. It and its large version were one and the same. One loomed over the outside world while the other loomed over the inside. Laughing at them.
This whole mess was the clock’s fault. He knew that, and his friends knew that. Cha Ming didn’t know,
