Chapter 2: Shadows of Mount Laurel

But the more I thought about it, the more puzzled I got.

If that’s all there was to it, the real Hawkins—stronger than me—would’ve been better for the job, right?

So why’d the Bishop make me kill him myself?

And why bother having me take Sam Hawkins’s place on this quest?

Percy cut into my thoughts. “Old Percy’s told you a secret that’d rock the world. So tell me—what happened to Sam in the end?”

I looked at Percy, silent for a while. “On that plateau bathed in holy light, the last bow of the fake Hawkins was the true end of the real Hawkins.”

“Still couldn’t escape death?” Percy muttered.

His shadow, swallowed by the dark, seemed to hunch even more. The woods felt colder. The night heavier, like even the trees were mourning.

After Percy left, another question started to gnaw at me.

If this westward journey is really full of secrets, why would Percy—knowing I’m not the real Hawkins—still tell me?

Thinking of Percy’s mocking face at the start, it suddenly hit me. My heart sank.

That damn pig—he’s setting me up!

The Bishop once told me: if I delivered Reverend Thomas to the Western Sanctuary and got the true scriptures, I’d be granted sainthood and a place among the blessed.

But the catch was, I had to ‘escort’ him—not ‘imprison’ him.

Now that I know the secret behind this so-called ‘escort’...

Forget sainthood—I might not even survive...

After all, Percy’s still with the Heavenly Court, protected by the big boss in the Silver Palace.

And me... well.

Thinking of Hawkins’s end, a chill ran down my spine. I grew even more wary of Percy. My hand drifted to the hilt of my staff—more out of habit than hope.

Since then, I lived even more on edge.

But right before we entered Mount Laurel, Percy turned to me, almost looking sorry:

“You might have all the power in the world, but you live like a stray dog, you know?”

I didn’t let Percy’s words get to me.

I pretended to be at ease and accepted the Bishop’s decree.

There are no Six-Eared Apes left in this world. Even the Great Sage is gone. Only I’m left—the Victorious Saint.

I laughed, thinking all the past was just water under the bridge.

And sighed, knowing everything from yesterday made me who I am today.

Whether it was the Great Sage or the Six-Eared Ape, in the end, they all just made me—the Victorious Saint.

Sitting on the old turtle’s shell, I watched Reverend Thomas beside me, reciting scripture with that look of pure compassion. Some of my doubts cleared up again.

I believe Percy’s story is true.

But as time passed, that story got buried under layers of dust—like a secret nobody dares to dig up.

So after ten lifetimes, Thomas was no longer the golden cicada from beyond the sky.

Now, in the Three Realms, he’s only got two identities: Sandalwood Merit Saint, and the Bishop’s disciple.

Every time I went to Mount Laurel, I could feel the saints’ endless longing for immortality.

Every time I visited the Heavenly Realm, I could sense the gods’ hunger for endless life.

They’ve lived too long—so long they can’t bear to die again...

But their hope for immortality all depends on cracking the secret.

As long as that secret stays hidden, Thomas can only be the Bishop’s disciple.

He’s still the Sandalwood Merit Saint.

And I’m still just the Victorious Saint.

Suddenly, I got why the Bishop wanted me to take Sam Hawkins’s place.

If nothing changes, he stays the Bishop—preaching to everyone, even enlightening the worst monsters.

As long as the secret stays hidden, he has to act like a compassionate leader, sending scriptures down to the world below.

Because he needs followers. Needs their faith.

Even if that power’s small, it’s still the only thing keeping him going.

Thinking about all this, I couldn’t help but remember Percy’s question.

He’d asked me: “Now that millions of years have passed, how much longer do you think those gods—cut off from that strange energy—can survive?”

Yeah, those gods who could move mountains, drain seas, destroy the Three Realms with a flick of their finger—how much longer can they really live?

When death comes, they won’t go quietly.

They’ll do anything just to live a little longer.

They’ll go mad, because in the end, they’re powerless.

Just thinking about it made me shiver.

I could almost see it—the end of the gods, the Three Realms turning to wasteland.

But as the sea breeze brushed over me, I suddenly wasn’t scared anymore.

The golden band on my head—gone.

Finally, I was free.

If that day really comes... who’s gonna stop me?

“I once asked the holy man and the Bishop a question: When can the old turtle shed its shell and become human? I wonder what the Bishop said?”

The sudden voice from under my feet startled me.