I Can Speak

Wukong watched as Xu Linglong gently traced the black blade with her fingers, acutely aware of her gaze fixed upon him.

Yet he understood—this was nothing but a blatant threat.

If killing the Pig Mask wasn’t enough, then Donggua could die too.

Either answer and let the mission proceed, or all perish, and the mission fails.

Striking down their own without hesitation—all to force an answer that might simply require patience to uncover.

After piecing together the intelligence provided by Chu Xingchen, Wukong responded:

"The Supreme One suspects that the fall of the Eastern Victory Divine Continent may have involved betrayal from within. By his order, I am to protect the last two who hold critical information and assist them in uncovering the traitor."

Xu Linglong nodded in understanding, her tone light and breezy:

"It’s been some time, and with a Buddha’s disciple like you aiding them, surely you’ve gathered some leads?"

Wukong shook his head. "None whatsoever."

Xu Linglong’s eyes shifted to Donggua, kneeling nearby.

Sensing the weight of that gaze, Donggua stammered:

"Th-there really isn’t any."

"Oh?" Xu Linglong’s voice dripped with feigned curiosity. "I overheard some of your earlier exchange. Is it that you refuse to cooperate with this disciple of Buddha… or, as he claims, that you care little for our cause, merely dragging out your days?"

Her tone was mild, almost as if asking whether they’d eaten breakfast.

But to Donggua, it sounded like: This useless dog might as well be stewed.

"This subordinate didn’t recognize this monk. He showed no trace of demonic energy—how could I know he wasn’t a spy trying to infiltrate us? How could I trust him blindly?"

Donggua dared not hide anything, laying bare her thoughts while subtly shifting blame for incompetence elsewhere.

Xu Linglong nodded approvingly, then turned back to Wukong, her voice sweetly innocent:

"She makes a fair point. Even I can’t discern your true nature."

"You’re called Donggua, right? Tell me—how can we establish simple trust?"

Though her words sounded foolish, Donggua knew this was a veiled command. She had to answer, with no room for evasion:

"At the very least, we must confirm he is one of us!"

Xu Linglong smiled in satisfaction, then fell silent, watching Wukong expectantly.

After a moment’s assessment—confirming he stood little chance against Xu Linglong—Wukong spoke calmly:

"I cannot demonstrate."

"Oh?" Xu Linglong lifted the black blade, her tone deceptively gentle. "Is it that you cannot… or that you will not?"

"The Supreme One has placed a seal upon me. I cannot, and must not, reveal myself," Wukong replied evenly.

"The Buddha’s teachings are vast as the clouds. If we could be so easily seen through, how could we remain secure? My stance remains: if you doubt me, you may inquire directly."

Xu Linglong ignored him, instead asking Donggua:

"Given his answer, should we believe him or not?"

"Not!"

Donggua’s reply came swift—whether out of spite or genuine suspicion.

Xu Linglong nodded again, raising the blade slightly, as if her next strike would claim the monk’s head.

Wukong remained unshaken.

If Xu Linglong truly meant to kill him, words were pointless—he’d defend himself.

If she couldn’t see through him, she wouldn’t act rashly. Stalemate suited him fine.

Besides, the indirect exchange had yielded useful clues.

Only the matter of reporting back to Chu Xingchen posed a problem.

Clutching the golden gourd, Wukong met Xu Linglong’s gaze without flinching, letting the silence stretch cold and heavy.

Finally, Xu Linglong broke it, her voice now icy:

"How typical of a branded demon—forgetting even the most basic rules. Before this seat, why do you not kneel?"

She removed her hat, revealing her true visage—stern, her eyes brimming with menace.

The earlier debate over authenticity was now discarded. This was pure discipline.

Wukong’s voice stayed calm. "Cloaked in Buddha’s form, I cannot kneel. Stripped of it, I would pay proper homage."

Xu Linglong’s expression softened instantly, a smile playing on her lips.

"In that case, let it be."

"By the way, how fares your side? Any news to share?"

Wukong seamlessly spun a lie:

"All is dire. With the emergence of the Bright Buddha, the pressure on our sect is immense. The Supreme One’s plans are hindered at every turn. Now, only he holds full knowledge of affairs."

He knew no details, but painting things bleakly excused many irregularities.

No reinforcements? Desperate measures? All could be blamed on the crisis.

Xu Linglong nodded sympathetically, as if accepting his words.

Both harbored questions, each probing for answers.

Xu Linglong sought to learn the Buddha faction’s stance—were they turning traitor?

Wukong aimed to uncover the traitor within the Buddha’s ranks.

Their dialogue was a dance of implications.

In the end, neither gained what they sought.

Donggua remained kneeling, absorbing every word.

She heard clearly—yet understood nothing.

This only tightened her dread. Comprehension might have offered a sliver of hope.

But ignorance meant uselessness.

Her breathing grew slightly ragged.

Xu Linglong seemed to tire of the exchange, steering toward business:

"Since you’ve come to aid, working together to investigate would be wise. Clarity benefits us all."

Wukong nodded vigorously in agreement.

Seeing her last chance slip away, Donggua blurted out—not in human speech, but in the guttural, twisted tongue of demons:

"Master, he may not even speak our tongue. He might not be one of us."

Xu Linglong’s gaze flicked over, her expression unchanging. She continued smoothly:

"Enough. I vouch for him. You will serve as his subordinate henceforth. Expedite the investigation into the Eastern Victory Divine Continent. No further delays."

Donggua’s throat constricted. Her mind raced—but she could only submit:

"...Yes."

Without another word, Xu Linglong turned and left.

Only the two remained—one kneeling, one standing—and the lifeless Pig Mask sprawled nearby.

Donggua exhaled heavily as her essence stabilized, slumping to the ground. Her eyes lifted to Wukong.

Wukong met her gaze, a faint smile forming as his voice twisted into the same grotesque cadence of demon-speak:

"I do speak your tongue."

Donggua was taken aback upon hearing the unmistakably fluent demonic tongue, then noticed the faint smile on Wukong's face.

Wukong’s gaze shifted to the lifeless boar-masked figure before he resumed speaking in common speech:

"Burn him thoroughly first. Leave no traces."

With that, he turned and walked away.

This demon really underestimates people.

Since he’s infiltrating their ranks, learning their language was a given. For Wukong, obtaining materials on the demonic tongue was hardly a challenge.

Now then…

Once he’s exposed, there’s bound to be traces left behind.

Perhaps he could even trace it back to someone—or at least narrow down the suspects.

He had already prepared a method to relay the intelligence he uncovered directly to the Bright Buddha.

As for offering his own body to the demons…

What did it matter?

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