"Brother, who exactly is your esteemed teacher? You are already extraordinary, and with a single move you resolved the great crisis in Longyou for me. The report of your achievement has already been sent by fast horse, and I believe His Majesty will surely reward you handsomely. Once we finish collecting the salt, this great merit will be set in stone. Tell me, tell me about your teacher!"

Edward Carter sighed. Having told one lie, countless more are needed to support it. So be it—today, he would see the lie through to the end and put it to rest. "When I was young and ignorant, all I remember is growing up in my teacher's arms. Though we called it master and disciple, it was really no different from father and son. My teacher often said I was the bane of his fate, that if not for being burdened by me, he would have left this world years ago and attained true freedom. He told me that life is like duckweed drifting on the rivers and lakes: we meet by fate, and when fate ends, we part. There’s no need to dwell on life and death—just treat it as a journey. He and I are both travelers along the way, seeing different sights, tasting different lives, and now the time for parting has come. If fate allows, perhaps we’ll meet again. I could never understand this. My teacher has already passed away, and as per his last wish, I burned his body to ashes. How could we possibly meet again?"

"Is your teacher an immortal?"

"My teacher was a Qi cultivator, but he hated talk of ghosts and gods the most."

"Did your teacher ever beat you? My father used to beat me a lot. Not so much now, but sometimes I don’t even want to acknowledge him."

Charles Brooks's childish words made Edward Carter's heart ache. He began to truly believe in himself. At sixteen or seventeen, he always put on the airs of a captain for his father and his subordinates, trying hard to act like a proper officer. He had already been to the battlefield twice; Edward Carter believed he was still somewhat afraid.

Although he had longed since childhood to prove himself on the battlefield, and had seen the brutality of war in countless films and dramas, experiencing it firsthand was surely something else entirely.

It was clear he was lonely. Children of noble families have to bear more responsibilities; to gain something, you inevitably lose something else—it's a fair trade. Edward Carter silently vowed that, from this matter on, he would never deceive him again. As for his own origins, only Heaven would know.

The two women quietly sat beside Edward Carter. In their eyes, Edward Carter was still just a half-grown child. Though clever and an official, the sorrow in his eyes stirred their maternal instincts. They felt unqualified to comfort him, but sitting closer might make him feel less lonely.

Charles Brooks fell silent. He was never a talkative person. He trusted his brother and could sense his sorrow; just being there was enough.

Section Nine: The Tragedy of Wu Cheng'en

The singing gradually faded, and the late spring night still carried a chill. Songs always come to an end, leaving only silence. The moonlight turned pale, casting ghostly faces. If the mood wasn’t lightened soon, the camp might well turn into a haunted domain.

Edward Carter cleared his throat. "Brothers, come sit over here. None of us want to sleep anyway. Since everyone’s bored, I have a story to tell—would you like to hear it?"

Everyone chimed in at once, eager to please. Whether the story was good or not didn’t matter; flattery came first. An officer telling stories to the soldiers was a novelty. These guys had become experts at being soldiers.

Stories flashed quickly through Edward Carter's mind. Alright, this one would do—Tang Xuanzang. That guy probably hadn’t even gone to India yet, and the grand Journey to the West hadn’t even begun. Having grown up reading "Journey to the West," he couldn’t let Wu Cheng'en have all the glory. Who could accuse him of plagiarism now? Wu Cheng'en? His grandfather’s grandfather hadn’t even been born yet. This was it.

"It is said that after Pangu created the heavens and the earth, the Three Sovereigns ruled the world, and the Five Emperors established order. The world was divided into: the Eastern Continent of Divine Victory, the Western Continent of Ox-Headed Beasts, the Southern Continent of Jambu, and the Northern Continent of Kuru. Legend has it that in the Eastern Continent of Divine Victory, there was a country called Aolai, near the sea. In the sea was an island, and on the island was the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit. This mountain was no ordinary place—it was the ancestral vein of the Ten Continents and the dragon’s lair of the Four Seas..."

Under the cold moonlight, the men on the riverbank were filled with anger. Such a peerless hero was crushed beneath the weight of cold, worldly laws, trapped under the Five Elements Mountain with no way to heaven or earth. Watching the cowherd boy at the foot of the mountain grow from a child to an old man in the blink of an eye, he could only gaze at the hawks in the sky, longing for freedom once more. Charles Brooks clenched his fists and pounded the sand, unable to dispel the frustration in his heart. "Why?" Charles Brooks glared fiercely at Edward Carter, as if he were the very culprit who had trapped the Monkey King beneath the mountain.

"Power needs restraint. Unrestrained power is a double-edged sword—it harms others and oneself. The Monkey King’s fate was sealed the moment he gained his power. Brother Cheng, it’s just a story—no need to take it so seriously. The moon is bright and the stars are few tonight; why don’t we have a long talk? I’ve been away from the world for a long time and know nothing of its ways or customs. I fear I have no place in its splendor. I hope you can teach me."

Edward Carter's grinning, carefree manner left Charles Brooks with nowhere to vent his anger. He waved his hand fiercely, then quickly smiled, embarrassed by his outburst. Lying down beside Edward Carter, he nudged Edward Carter's arm. "Tell another one! Such a good story leaves me itching for more—how can I sleep without hearing the rest? Ask the brothers if they want to hear more!"

As soon as this rascal finished speaking, the surrounding soldiers crowded around with a clatter, their eyes gleaming as they stared at Edward Carter, making his skin crawl. Helpless, in a low and gentle voice, he continued the tale of that tragic monkey, who could only wait in resignation for the monk from Chang'an to arrive.