“Watching chess, the board in disarray, chopping wood with rhythmic knocks, strolling slowly at the mouth of the valley by the clouds, selling firewood for wine, laughing wildly to amuse myself. The path is desolate and autumn is high, lying under the moon with my head on pine roots, sleeping soundly till dawn. Recognizing the old forest, climbing cliffs and crossing ridges, wielding an axe to cut dead vines.

Gathering it all into a load, singing as I walk to the market, exchanging it for three measures of rice. There’s not the slightest bit of strife, prices are fair and steady, I don’t know cunning or scheming, care nothing for honor or disgrace, living simply and peacefully. Wherever I meet someone, they are either an immortal or a Daoist, sitting quietly and discussing the Yellow Court Classic.”

Now this is really strange. Ever since I transmigrated and reincarnated as this bird, a crow, in the past year or two I haven’t seen a single bird-person, nor heard a human voice. How come as soon as this monkey shows up, people start appearing too? Could it be that the legendary wheel of fate has begun to turn?

Wait a minute, this scene seems familiar from somewhere.

Just as he was feeling puzzled, he saw that the monkey seemed to get excited as well, leaping up and, with a few bounds, disappeared into the depths of the forest. Henry Clark spread his wings and followed behind the monkey, and before long, he saw the first human he’d encountered since transmigrating.

What happened next nearly made Henry Clark roll his eyes and faint on the spot.

“Spirit Platform, Mountain of Mind and Heart, Cave of the Three Stars under the Slanting Moon, Patriarch Subhuti!!!” Damn it, this really is the world of Journey to the West, and the monkey in front of him is the legendary one.

Henry Clark’s brain froze for a moment, but then again, if something as mind-blowing as transmigration can happen, then ending up in the world of Journey to the West isn’t something his now much smaller crow brain can figure out.

He stood there dumbly for a while, only to find that the conversation between the monkey and the woodcutter had already ended. The woodcutter left with his load of firewood, and the monkey, following the woodcutter’s directions, headed toward the Cave of the Three Stars under the Slanting Moon.

Naturally, Henry Clark didn’t think much of it, flapped his wings, and followed after the monkey.

Seventeen or eighteen li away, the Spirit Platform Mountain and the Cave of the Three Stars under the Slanting Moon were only seventeen or eighteen li from his own little nest.

After cultivating demonic energy, his flying ability had greatly improved, but at the same time, he also sensed the dangers around him, so safety came first.

All along, he had habitually used his nest—which was actually just a hollow under a rock at the foot of the mountain—as the center of his activities, with a range of about ten li. The Cave of the Three Stars under the Slanting Moon was only seven or eight li from the edge of his territory.

At this moment, Henry Clark didn’t know how to feel, but on second thought, it didn’t really matter. Even if he found it first, so what?

The Daoist inside, though not particularly famous, was still Sun Wukong’s senior brother. Even though his claws were a bit sharper, his beak a bit pointier, and his wings a bit stronger, compared to them, he was nothing. Not to mention them—even if he met an ordinary person, he’d have to keep his distance. After all, his body was just that of an ordinary crow. And he couldn’t even speak—if he rashly went over and ran into a Daoist with no scruples, who decided to catch him, skin him, and eat him, that would be a real tragedy. Thinking this far, Henry Clark became even more cautious.

Hiding in the dense branches of a pine tree not far from the Cave of the Three Stars under the Slanting Moon, peering through the gaps in the pine needles, he watched Sun Wukong’s apprenticeship all over again. The difference was, before he’d only seen it on TV, which took just a few minutes, but this time it was a real historical event, taking three or four hours before the monkey was finally admitted, completed the apprenticeship, and received his name—just as Henry Clark expected, he was named Sun Wukong.

“So, what should I do?!” Henry Clark asked himself at this moment. Indeed, what should he do? He’d already thought about it—going to become an apprentice like the monkey wasn’t the best choice. He wasn’t that monkey. Although the monkey’s later experiences were pretty rough, at least in the beginning he was incredibly lucky and blessed. As for himself—heh, who knows if it’s fortune or disaster!

Thinking of this, he began to ponder. He didn’t know exactly what Patriarch Subhuti was capable of, but anyone who could teach the monkey must be a master. With such a master right in front of him, it would be a shame not to take advantage somehow—but how to do it, he’d have to think carefully.

Now, Henry Clark was starting to regret it. If he’d known he’d end up in this situation, why hadn’t he studied Journey to the West more carefully back then? At least he’d know what to do and when. Now, apart from the monkey’s general story, he knew nothing, and the part he was most familiar with wouldn’t happen for another five hundred years.

Five hundred years?!!

Damn, can I even live that long? What do you think this is, the Kangxi Emperor from that song, borrowing another five hundred years from heaven? Can you really borrow that much time?