Chapter 22: The Rocky Ridge

Chapter 22: The Tumultuous Stone Ridge

“Should we fight our way back?” The Monkey Spirit’s eyes gleamed fiercely as he squinted toward the rear.

Zhou Yu pondered for a moment and said, “If they truly end up destroying each other, we could seize the opportunity to finish them off. But for now, we can’t act recklessly.”

“Why not?” the Monkey Spirit asked.

“On one hand, they might not actually come to such a dire confrontation. If we rush in, they could unite against us. More importantly, if we kill them, it will surely attract the attention of other Demon Kings, and perhaps even the Demon Emperor, White Bone Cry. We’re still too weak to face the pursuit and encirclement of many Demon Kings.”

The Monkey Spirit thought it over and nodded. “That’s true. If three Demon Kings die in a short time, it would cause an uproar—especially if they all fall by our hands.”

Zhou Yu patted the Monkey Spirit on the shoulder, silently thinking, “You’re not completely mindless after all.”

“In that case, we should leave this place quickly.” Zhou Yu glanced toward the distant battlefield where explosions of energy mixed with the furious roars and mournful cries of beasts echoed.

The Monkey Spirit slung his blood-red staff over his shoulder and said, “Then I’ll take you to my home first.”

“Your home? Aren’t you a wanderer with no fixed place?” Zhou Yu asked.

“I mean where I was born. It’s a place full of stones.”

“Could it be called Stone City?”

“No, it’s called Tumultuous Stone Ridge.”

“Sounds like a remote and desolate place.”

Under the Monkey Spirit’s lead, Zhou Yu hurried swiftly away, no longer concerned with the fierce battle raging in Wild Ox Valley.

The Demon realm was vast and boundless, its total area even surpassing that of the human world, but much of it was rugged and inhospitable. The far north was covered with glaciers, where only the strongest demons could survive; others dared not tread.

Following the Monkey Spirit, they deliberately chose the most desolate paths—crossing canyons, climbing mountains, fording raging streams. A full month passed. They survived by hunting wild beasts, occasionally encountering demons, who all ended up as food for Zhou Yu, who accepted no refusal.

The Monkey Spirit, accompanying Zhou Yu, gradually grew accustomed to the carnivorous lifestyle.

One day, they emerged from a dense forest. The Monkey Spirit had several wild chickens hanging from his neck, his blood-red staff balanced with a badger, while Zhou Yu carried a few leftover chicken wings from the previous night on his pitchfork.

Dressed like refugees, the Monkey Spirit gazed excitedly toward a distant place and pointed, “That’s Tumultuous Stone Ridge.”

Zhou Yu looked ahead and saw a chaotic pile of stones forming a small hill. The rocks varied in size and shape, bizarre and irregular.

“The name lives up to itself,” Zhou Yu remarked with admiration.

“Of course! This is where I was born!” the Monkey Spirit said.

“Let’s hurry there. Are there beautiful maidens, fragrant monkey wine, and all sorts of delicious fruits waiting for us?” Zhou Yu joked.

The Monkey Spirit blushed awkwardly. “We’ll see when we get there.”

Zhou Yu nodded, and together they approached the ridge.

Soon, Tumultuous Stone Ridge lay before them.

Zhou Yu raised his head to study the huge boulder ahead.

It stood over thirty feet tall, shaped somewhat like a gourd, with three large characters carved into it: “Tumultuous Stone Ridge.”

At first Zhou Yu paid little mind, but as he and the Monkey Spirit prepared to enter, he suddenly stopped.

“Tumultuous Stone Ridge,” he murmured.

Noticing Zhou Yu halt, the Monkey Spirit stopped and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Yu turned back and carefully scrutinized the three large characters on the massive rock.

His expression grew grave, and he muttered to himself, “How could this be?”

“What’s the matter?” the Monkey Spirit scratched his furry head.

“Do you understand the characters carved here?” Zhou Yu asked.

The Monkey Spirit stepped forward, scratching his cheek for a long time. “I don’t know how to read, but I know those three characters say ‘Tumultuous Stone Ridge.’”

The question in Zhou Yu’s mind deepened. “When was this boulder placed here?”

The Monkey Spirit stuck out his tongue. “How should I know? It was here before I was born. Even the oldest elders don’t know.”

The three characters on the boulder were unmistakably Chinese.

Zhou Yu leapt up onto the stone and lay flat to examine the characters closely.

Though the calligraphy was crude, each stroke exuded a powerful, imposing aura. The brushstrokes were vigorous and strong, yet the overall composition felt somewhat strange.

What puzzled Zhou Yu most was the top character.

This place was part of the Path of the Forsaken, a world created by the Asura King, supposedly unrelated to Earth. So who carved these characters here? Zhou Yu was utterly baffled.

He silently marked this mystery in his mind as he followed the Monkey Spirit into Tumultuous Stone Ridge.

True to its name, the ridge was composed entirely of oddly shaped stones of various sizes, piled haphazardly.

Narrow winding paths twisted like earthworms deep within.

The deeper they went, the quieter the Monkey Spirit became.

Zhou Yu could feel the change in his companion’s aura, shifting from joy and excitement to a calm yet dangerous energy.

The stone path was covered with moss—wet and slippery—clearly seldom traveled.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zhou Yu finally asked as the Monkey Spirit grew more uneasy.

Without replying, the Monkey Spirit quickened his pace, and Zhou Yu followed suit.

After many twists and turns, they emerged into a clearing.

Surrounded by stones, the open space contained stone tables and chairs. Nearby, a stone wall was riddled with dozens of stone caves, clustered closely like a wasp’s nest—no doubt the dwellings of monkey demons.

For some reason, the Monkey Spirit slowed down, looking anxiously at the stone tables and chairs, then at the caves, and walked forward hesitantly.

Zhou Yu sensed something was wrong. There were stone tables, chairs, and caves—surely inhabited by demons like the Monkey Spirit. Yet, since entering the ridge, they hadn’t seen a single demon. The moss-covered stones suggested no living creature had passed here for a long time.

Entering the clearing, Zhou Yu carefully searched for any signs of life. The stone furniture was thick with dust, and scattered dry twigs and leaves lay everywhere, as if carried by the wind.

The Monkey Spirit grew restless, pacing anxiously, slipping into gaps between stones, scrambling up the stone wall, but finding nothing.

“What’s going on?” Zhou Yu asked, leaning on his pitchfork.

The Monkey Spirit slumped down, spiritless. “They’ve all surely died because of me.”