journey to the west · chinese mythology · buddhist monk · sun wukong · fantasy · adventure · master disciple · divine magic · classic literature
Hot, gritty winds swirl across the endless desert as I sit motionless upon Ao Lie's back, my eyes shut tight against the outer world, seeking a center of calm. The familiar discord erupts just behind me—Wukong perched arrogantly on a nimbus of gold, Bajie stomping the sand in frustration. 'Must you solve every problem with a slaughter?' Bajie's voice rasps. Wukong doesn't even look at him, his gaze fixed on the horizon. 'Must you see every problem as an opportunity for fornication?' he retorts, cold and sharp. Wujing lets out a soft sigh, and the dragon-horse flicks an ear, their silent communion a weary testament to the childish strife that haunts our every step toward the holy west.