I just became the Pirate King, and you're telling me I also time-traveled at the same time.

Chapter 1106 Aiming at Sun Wukong

Lu Yuanzhou remained silent for a moment.

Then he reopened the folding fan, and the ink wash landscape on the fan surface stopped flowing, freezing into a still image.

"Since it's you, that's even better," he said. "The Heavenly Gang Sect still has to give some face to the reputation of the Victorious Fighting Buddha." He turned the folding fan over, revealing the blank back of the fan. "But the Heavenly Gang Sect has been pursuing this golden pill for ten thousand years, and they can't give up just because you're here."

Hand over your Golden Core, and the Heavenly Gang Sect will stop bothering you and these monkeys.

In addition, the Tiangang Sect owes you a favor.

You should know what favors from the Heavenly Gang Sect are worth in the Eastern Victory Divine Continent.

Sun Wukong did not answer.

He turned and glanced at Chu Yang.

Chu Yang stood on the gravel slope, half of his body still covered in stone dust and dirt, holding a dagger in his hand with the tip pointing towards the ground.

The look in his eyes as he looked at Lu Yuanzhou was not one of fear or anger, but rather an extremely calm assessment as he searched for the next opportunity to strike, even though he knew his attacks would be almost ineffective against Lu Yuanzhou.

"I won't pay," Chu Yang said.

Sun Wukong turned around and shrugged at Lu Yuanzhou.

"You heard it too."

Lu Yuanzhou's expression remained unchanged.

He switched the folding fan from his right hand to his left and then slowly closed it.

When the folding fan closed, it made a crisp "snap" sound. The sound wasn't loud, but all the leaves in the peach grove trembled at the same moment, as if something was spreading outward from the sound and touching every leaf.

"Then we'll have to take you down first," he said.

He tucked the folding fan back into his waistband, and this time he took out the bamboo flute.

The bamboo flute is very ordinary; it's just a flute made from a single piece of green bamboo, without any patterns or decorations. The flute only has six finger holes and one blow hole.

He put the bamboo flute to his lips and blew a note.

That note was neither too high nor too low, neither too sharp nor too deep.

But the moment the sound waves spread out, Sun Wukong and Chu Yang simultaneously felt their bodies being pressed down by an invisible force—not a force field, not a seal, but a purer kind of power.

Driven by sound waves, air molecules begin to vibrate at a specific frequency, which perfectly matches the resonant frequency of the human internal organs.

Chu Yang couldn't withstand the fact that his cultivation level was much lower than Sun Wukong's. His internal organs began to churn violently the moment of resonance. He knelt on one knee and spat out a mouthful of blood, which splattered onto the gravel slope.

Sun Wukong was also trying his best, but blood was seeping from the corner of his mouth.

"This flute of mine is called the Zhenhai Flute," it's not some powerful magic weapon. Lu Yuanzhou removed the flute from his lips, and the sound waves stopped. "But it's enough to suppress the resonance of the internal organs."

You must be having trouble even breathing right now.

Chu Yang pressed his hand to the ground, his fingers digging into the soil.

He knew Lu Yuanzhou was telling the truth—with each breath, the expansion of his lungs would pull on his internal organs, which were damaged by the resonance, causing him excruciating pain, as if someone were churning inside his body with a knife.

He spat out the blood from his mouth and looked up at Lu Yuanzhou.

This person is completely different from Master Chifeng. Master Chifeng is violent and direct, and his power is projected outwards.

Lu Yuanzhou's power is drawn inward, precise, and released only after every movement has been meticulously calculated.

He was so strong that he didn't even need to unleash his full power to crush his opponents.

Chu Yang mentally reviewed all the methods he could use.

The dagger couldn't pierce the robe.

The gray fog only works when there is close contact, but Lu Yuanzhou didn't give him a chance to get close at all.

Peach pits—they worked on Master Chifeng, but they won't work on Lu Yuanzhou.

Speed—Lu Yuanzhou was even faster than him.

There was nothing there.

He couldn't do anything in front of this person.

This feeling was not unfamiliar to him.

In the desert, he encountered countless beings stronger than himself—the wolf king was stronger than him, the sandstorm was stronger than him, and the desert itself was stronger than him.

But all of those things have weaknesses.

The wolf king has weaknesses, sandstorms have gaps, and the desert has water sources.

But he couldn't find Lu Yuanzhou's weakness.

It's not that he has no weaknesses, but rather that his cultivation level is insufficient to see them.

But the Golden Elixir can.

The golden elixir in the grotto can continue to function for ten thousand years after a person dies, can permeate an entire mountain with spiritual energy, and can raise dozens of intelligent monkeys.

If that cultivator named Yin Wuyai were to unleash his full power, would he be weaker than Lu Yuanzhou? No.

The golden elixir was in the cave behind him.

Chu Yang propped himself up on his knees to stand up.

His movements were slow, and his body swayed twice as he stood up. Each sway aggravated his injured internal organs, causing him to break out in a cold sweat from the pain.

But he still stood up.

He tucked the dagger back into his waistband and turned to walk towards the cave entrance.

Lu Yuanzhou saw his actions.

"You need to go and get the Golden Elixir."

Chu Yang neither answered nor stopped.

"The power within that golden pill is beyond what your current body can withstand," Lu Yuanzhou said, his tone devoid of any warning, merely stating a basic medical fact. "Your meridians are too weak, and your dantian too shallow. Forcibly swallowing a ten-thousand-year-old golden pill will only result in your body exploding and you dying."

Chu Yang still didn't stop.

As he walked past Sun Wukong, Sun Wukong reached out and grabbed his arm.

Blood still clung to the corner of Sun Wukong's mouth, and the palm print on his chest had turned from deep red to purplish-black, but his grip on Chu Yang's arm remained steady.

"Have you thought it through?" Sun Wukong asked.

"I haven't thought it through," Chu Yang said. "If I had, I wouldn't dare."

Sun Wukong looked into his eyes.

Chu Yang's eyes were not large, and his pupils were dark brown, so they were almost invisible in normal lighting.

But Sun Wukong recognized what was in those eyes—when he first met Chu Yang at Flower Fruit Mountain, the man emerged from the desert, covered in sand, his lips cracked, but his eyes held the same light.

It's not that I'm not afraid of death, but that I feel there are things more important than death.

Sun Wukong released his grip.

Chu Yang entered the cave passage.

The light from the pearl in the cave was still so soft, and the monk who had passed away was still sitting in the same spot, his golden core emitting an orange-red glow through his withered abdomen, exactly the same as it had been three days ago.

Chu Yang sat down in front of him, looking at his gaunt face, weathered and tanned like leather by the years.

"I want your pill," Chu Yang said. "There's a very strong person outside who wants to steal your pill."

"I won't let him take it." He paused. "I might die if I take it."

But even if I die, Dan won't give it to him.

Consider it helping you protect it.

He reached his hand towards the monk's lower abdomen.

When the fingers touched the withered skin, it did not break. Unlike three days ago when Sun Wukong touched the cultivator's white hair, this time the cultivator's skin remained stable, as if it had been waiting for this touch for a long time.

Chu Yang's fingers pierced through the skin and touched the golden core.

The temperature of the Golden Elixir was neither too hot nor too cold, just the same as body temperature.

But when his fingers completely enveloped the golden core, the golden core suddenly trembled.

Then it began to burrow into Chu Yang's palm—not because he caught it, but because the golden core itself voluntarily burrowed into his body.

It's like a seed that has been adrift for thousands of years has finally found soil and is eager to take root.

The golden elixir passed through the skin of his palm, entered his meridians, and traveled up his arm.

The feeling wasn't pain, but a more indescribable experience, like someone pouring a river into his veins. The water surged through his veins, stretching them outwards, with every inch of the vein walls protesting the unbearable strain.

Chu Yang's right arm swelled violently for a moment as the golden core passed by, tearing the sleeve and splitting the skin on his arm in several places, from which blood gushed out, but was immediately vaporized into a blood mist by the heat of the golden core.

Jin Dan walked to his chest and paused there.

Then Chu Yang felt the golden pill circle around his heart, as if it were examining something, before suddenly sinking down, passing through his diaphragm, and entering his dantian.

The moment the golden core entered his dantian, Chu Yang lost consciousness.

It wasn't fainting, but a more complete loss of consciousness. His consciousness was overwhelmed by the power contained within the Golden Core, like a person standing under a waterfall being slammed into the bottom by the water.

It was as if a sun had been ignited in his dantian, and the light shone outward from his lower abdomen, penetrating his skin and flesh, illuminating the entire grotto as bright as day.

The pearls on the cave walls paled in comparison to this light, like candlelight meeting the midday sun.

Power surged from his dantian to every corner of his body, his meridians were stretched open, his bones were tempered, and his flesh was reshaped.

His body underwent a transformation that would take an ordinary cultivator hundreds of years to complete within a few breaths, at the cost of tearing his body apart and then healing it with each transformation.

After the pain reached its extreme, it was no longer pain, but a pure, white existence. He was completely swallowed by that power, his consciousness floating in the white light, unable to grasp anything or perceive anything.

Then a cloud of black mist appeared deep within the white light.

The black mist was very faint, enveloped in white light at its innermost layer, like a black stone wrapped in layers of white cloth.

It had been dormant, suppressed at the very core of the Golden Core by Yin Wuyai using his life's cultivation.

At this moment, the golden core was swallowed by Chu Yang, and Yin Wuyai's suppression finally loosened a little after ten thousand years—not that the seal was broken, but that an extremely fine crack appeared on the edge of the seal. The crack was so small that it was almost non-existent, but it was enough to allow the finest wisp of black mist to seep out.

The wisp of black mist emerged from the core of the Golden Core, encountered the surging power of the Golden Core within Chu Yang's body, and then began to grow.

It wasn't erosion or devouring, but rather the fusion of immortal and demonic power within Chu Yang's body. They didn't repel or attack each other, but instead intertwined, transforming into a completely new power that had never appeared in this world before.

Chu Yang opened his eyes.

He stood in the cave, his body suspended in mid-air, his feet three feet off the ground.

His hair had turned completely silver-white—not the dry white of an old man, but a bright silver with a metallic sheen, each strand of hair looking as if it were drawn from silver wire, clearly visible in the light.

His left eye was still dark brown, but his right eye had changed. The pupil of his right eye had changed from dark brown to light gold, with a very fine dark red line in the light gold, like red water plants at the bottom of a golden lake.

He was surrounded by two layers of aura: one was the bright and intense orange-gold immortal power of the Golden Core itself; the other was the faint, dark gray demonic power, cold and restrained.

The two layers of energy intertwined, forming a spiral-shaped aura around his body. The rubble on the cave walls slowly floated up under the pull of this aura, hovering in mid-air and rotating slowly in the direction of the aura's rotation.

He looked down at his hands.

The wounds on my hands from the Golden Elixir are still there, but the edges of the wounds are healing at a visible speed. New skin is growing from the edges of the wounds toward the center. The growth process is itchy but not painful.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking crisply. With each crack, a force emanated from his knuckles, striking the walls of the grotto and leaving faint white marks.

The four sentences left by Yin Wuyai on the wall of the grotto are still there.

If anyone later obtains this elixir, it is hoped that they will treat the things of this mountain well.

Chu Yang looked at the line of text and nodded.

Then he turned and walked towards the cave entrance.

The battle outside the cave was still going on, but it could no longer be called a battle.

Sun Wukong knelt on the rocky slope, his golden cudgel held horizontally in front of him, the golden light on the cudgel now so faint that only a thin halo remained.

He had three new wounds: one on his left leg, deep enough to expose the bone; one on his back, running diagonally from his shoulder to his waist, the edges of his clothes charred black by the high temperature; and a third on his forehead, blood flowing down and covering half of his face, blurring his vision.

Behind him, on the gravel slope, lay broken peach trees and shattered stones, all from when Lu Yuanzhou knocked Sun Wukong away with each palm strike.

Lu Yuanzhou stood by the pool, his folding fan already tucked into his waistband, and his bamboo flute put away.

He stood with his hands empty, one hand behind his back and the other hanging by his side, his posture still casual, as if he were admiring flowers in his own backyard.

His breathing remained unchanged, and not a speck of dust clung to his robe.

"Sun Wukong, how much longer can you stand here?" Lu Yuanzhou said. "I can't break your power seal, but your body also has its limits."

If you continue fighting, the seal will automatically trigger a protection mechanism, and you will survive under the seal's protection, but you will lose consciousness.

"And those monkeys," he glanced up at the dense forest on the mountaintop, "what do you think they'll do after they see you fall?"

Sun Wukong did not answer.

He braced himself against the ground with his golden cudgel and slowly stood up, inch by inch.

The wound on my left leg tore open a little more while I was standing, and the blood flowed out even more, forming a small pool of blood on the scree slope.

After he stood up, he wiped the blood from his eyes and pointed the golden cudgel at Lu Yuanzhou.

"I haven't fallen yet," he said.

Lu Yuanzhou shook his head slightly, as if looking at a stubborn child.

He raised his right hand, palm open, and aimed it at Sun Wukong.