Erlang Shen shut his laptop, and the glowing projections flickered out. Li Muzha led the group to the exit of the military offices, and from there, Erlang Shen, Hei Wu, and Li Muzha went their separate ways. Left behind were Sun Wukong and Ao Jia, both standing by the exquisite pool of lotus flowers between the military offices and the imperial palace.

Sun Wukong adjusted her crimson robes and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “Well,” she said quietly, breaking the silence that had stretched too long. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Ao Jia inclined his head toward her, his expression unreadable but deliberate. “Indeed.”

Sun Wukong let out a small laugh, a quiet, self-conscious sound that didn’t belong to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. She tried to brush off the absurdity of it all—how even now, she wasn’t immune to sweaty palms or an irregular heartbeat in the face of him.

“Well,” she said, her voice tinged with an exaggerated nonchalance, “don’t let me keep you, Crown Prince.” She gave him a low, exaggerated bow.

Ao Jia’s lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile but something close. “I never thought I’d see you in that armor again,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Not after how you left.”

Her easy smile faltered for half a second, her body tensing as she met his gaze. “I didn’t expect to be back either.”

“Did you find what you were looking for out there?” he asked, each word deliberate, cutting.

She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. After a beat, she straightened her shoulders. “Retirement has been quite entertaining,” she said lightly, though her tone didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Ao Jia nodded, his expression neutral once again, though his blue eyes burned with something deeper. He took a step back, inclining his head slightly. “It’s good to see you, General Sun.”

“Crown Prince,” she said softly.

He gave her a casual salute, then turned to teleport back to the Crystal Palace, his graceful steps barely making a sound on the marble steps. As he turned and walked away, Sun Wukong let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

As Sun Wukong watched him go, her expression faded into something more thoughtful as her eyes trailed away from the Crown Prince. In the distance, illuminated by the soft glow of the Celestial light, she could just make out the outline of the Temple of the Savior. It had been over a century since she had set foot in the Heavenly Realm, and seeing the familiar structure again stirred something deep within her. 

Her eyes fixed on the grand marble statue that stood proudly in the temple courtyard, gleaming even from the distance.

The statue of the Savior.

Three hundred years ago, a great and terrible threat had risen, one so powerful it had nearly consumed all four realms- Heaven, Seas, the Underworld, and the Mortal Realm. When it seemed like the realms had no hope left, when even the gods had faltered in their resolve, the Savior stepped forward and unleashed a power so immense, so incomprehensible that it tore through the veil between realms, sealing away the darkness that had threatened to consume them all. 

But that power had come at a cost.

Sun Wukong could still remember that moment. The way the skies darkened, the air heavy with the finality of the situation. The Savior stood tall, unyielding to the powers that had threatened to take everything with it. 

And then…he was gone. 

There was no fanfare, no moment to say goodbye. One second he was there, fighting alongside her, and the next moment…he wasn’t. The force he had unleashed had torn him from existence, his spirit bound forever to the very barrier he had created to protect the realms. 

The details of that event had been passed down through the generations, told and retold until they blurred into myth. People spoke of his sacrifice with reverence, but few knew the true depth of what had been lost that day. His story had become legend, his name spoken in awe, a reminder to children that even gods could fall in the pursuit of something greater.

Her eyes lingered on the statue in the distance. It was carved from pure white marble, its surface polished to perfection, gleaming as if it were made of divine light itself. The figure was depicted in a heroic pose, his spear raised high, his expression one of unyielding resolve. At his feet were representations of the four realms, symbols of the worlds he had saved from annihilation.

Even now, three hundred years later, there were still those who believed that one day, when the realms were again in dire need, he would return. That somehow, the same power that had taken him would one day release him. It was a comforting tale told by the people who had never seen what she had, who had never stood by his side in those final moments. But as the years turned to centuries, those stories began to fade, slipping quietly into the realm of legend.

Sun Wukong had never fully let herself believe them. She knew better.

The Savior was gone.

Sun Wukong let out a quiet breath and swallowed the lump in her throat as her gaze shifted away from the statue, her expression unreadable. With one final glance toward the distant temple, she turned and began walking in the opposite direction, heading back to Midnight City.

Wherever you are, she thought to herself as she made her descent to the Mortal Realm. 

I hope you are at peace, Third Prince.

SIX HUNDRED YEARS EARLIER, 

The second week of Sun Wukong’s banishment into the Mortal Realm.

Ao Bing was still huffing in annoyance at the two Celestial beings in front of him arguing over mere snacks. Even though they were over 200 years old, Erlang Shen and Sun Wukong would still default to these childish antics whenever one of them didn’t get their way.

“Those are mine!” Sun Wukong continued, reaching for the sack of sweet candies Erlang Shen was now hovering over her head above her reach. Despite how powerful of a warrior as Sun Wukong was, at five feet tall exactly, most of her male colleagues easily scaled over her and often used her petite frame against her, exactly as Erlang Shen was doing now. 

As the two continued fighting, Ao Bing heard the unmistakable sound of quick, light footsteps approaching from behind them. Without turning around, Ao Bing knew exactly who it was. 

“Sorry, sorry I’m late,” Li Nezha called out, placing another large care package for Sun Wukong on the ground. “I lost track of time when I was studying.”

Ao Bing turned as Li Nezha approached, his expression unreadable as the Third Prince of the Heavenly Kingdom came into view. Nezha was tall, nearly matching Ao Bing and Erlang Shen in height, wearing the same drab clothes as the other two men. 

“You’re so annoying, Third Prince,” Erlang Shen said, finally handing over to Sun Wukong the treats she was reaching for. 

Note: Even in the myths, everyone refers to Li Nezha simply as “Third Prince.” As the third son of Li Jing, the Heavenly King, his title reflects his place within a lineage of duty and prestige. In ancient Chinese culture, birth order held great significance, especially within noble or celestial families, and it often dictated roles and expectations. Being the third child marked Nezha’s position as part of the family’s legacy, but not necessarily the one in line for leadership—a dynamic that often fueled his rebellious spirit.

Li Nezha shrugged and adjusted his outer robe, which he hastily threw on backwards. As he did so, Li Nezha’s jet-black hair, straight and long, fell loosely around his shoulders. His dark, muted robes did little to hide the natural grace and allure he carried, the fabric flowing around his frame as though it couldn’t help but emphasize his every movement. Even in these dull clothes, Li Nezha was dazzling, a natural-born prince who seemed unaware of his own appeal. His friends, especially Ao Bing, were often exasperated by this effortless charm—Li Nezha never seemed to notice how much attention he attracted, whether in a room of scholars or on a battlefield.

Li Nezha came to a stop beside Ao Bing, breathing a bit heavily from rushing from the Imperial Library to meet with his friends. The Third Prince nodded towards Erlang Shen, the dimples in his cheeks deepening as he gave the group an easygoing smile. 

“I think I’m finally ready to take the Imperial Civil Exam,” Li Nezha announced.

Erlang Shen groaned dramatically. “You’re the son of the great Heavenly Emperor Li Jing, you could have any position in the Heavenly Court and Military you want, yet you spent months studying for the Civil Exam.”

Sun Wukong rolled her eyes. “Golden boy of the Heavens, always aiming to make the rest of us look bad.”

Li Nezha pouted in jest, then glanced at Ao Bing, whose face remained neutral. Li Nezha wrapped an arm around the Dragon Prince. “At least Jianyu will support me.”

Ao Bing snorted, unable to hide his annoyance, and slipped away from Li Nezha’s half-embrace. “I don’t support you,” he said curtly. 

Despite the playful tone, there was a reason behind Li Nezha’s decision to take the imperial exam that went deeper than just wanting to prove himself. As the youngest son of the Heavenly Kingdom, many expected him to follow the same path as his brothers—generals and military leaders who commanded Celestial armies. He had already proven himself in battle, and if he chose to, Li Nezha could easily rise to a high rank in the military, just like his older brother, Li Muzha. 

But Li Nezha had never been one to take the obvious path.

Ao Bing, however, couldn’t help but feel irritated by this. While the Dragon Prince’s life was bound by strict duty to his father and the Eastern Sea, the Third Prince seemed to float effortlessly through life, always able to do what he wanted.

Li Nezha, unfazed, sidled up close to Ao Bing, his pout deepening. “All I want is for you to be happy for me, Jianyu. Can’t you at least support this humble scholar’s choices?”

Ao Bing rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “You always do whatever you want and get away with it.” Ao Bing didn’t meet Li Nezha’s gaze as he said this, choosing instead to adjust the brim of his straw hat and stare at the hills in the distance.

Sun Wukong and Erlang Shen exchanged amused glances.

Li Nezha’s expression softened a bit, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Are you really never going to be happy for me, Jianyu?” He leaned in closer to Ao Bing, so close he was basically nestling his head under the brim of Ao Bing’s straw hat. 

Ao Bing stiffened slightly, his frustration mounting. He opened his mouth to retort, but when he looked directly at Li Nezha and those bright, expectant eyes looking up at him, he faltered. The silence stretched between them, and eventually, with a heavy sigh, Ao Bing relented.

”Fine,” Ao Bing muttered. “I’m…happy for you, I guess. If that’s what you want to hear.”

Li Nezha’s face lit up with triumph, and Sun Wukong snickered from behind him as Li Nezha wrapped his arms around Ao Bing in an exaggerated embrace. 

Ao Bing shot her a glare. Before he started spewing off a string of curse words to the whole group, his eyes widened slightly as he grinned towards Sun Wukong and pushed Li Nezha off of him. “Oh, right. Almost forgot.”

Reaching into the folds of his loose clothing, Ao Bing fished out a small note and a carefully wrapped package. He handed them both to Sun Wukong, whose eyes immediately narrowed with suspicion. 

“What’s this?” She asked, eyeing the package warily.

Ao Bing’s lips curled into an even bigger smile. “It’s from my brother. He asked me to pass it along to you.”

Sun Wukong froze. Her usual fiery confidence wavered as her face turned an unmistakable shade of crimson. “Wh-why would you announce it like that? In front of everyone?” She sputtered, her voice rising in pitch.

Erlang Shen grinned, barely containing his laughter. “From the Crown Prince Ao Jia, huh? How interesting…”

Li Nezha joined in as well. “Open it, Yanling! Make sure to read the note loudly so we can all hear.”

Sun Wukong’s face grew even redder as she stood up abruptly, brandishing her staff in Ao Bing’s direction. “You-! Come here so I can hit you!”

Ao Bing, now worried that they were causing too much commotion, deftly dodged her attack. “Calm down, we’re going to draw attention and get caught!”

The others erupted into laughter as Sun Wukong chased Ao Bing around the clearing, the sound of their playful banter echoing in the air. 

As Sun Wukong finally collapsed onto the ground, out of breath but still fuming, Ao Bing reached into his pocket and offered her a bun. “Peace offering?”

Sun Wukong snatched it from his hand with a glare. “You’re lucky I’m hungry.”