Here Comes the Great Sage's Staff

The day of the pilgrimage, the real Wukong died.

The Six-Eared Macaque pierced his pipa bones with a single blow of his staff and laughed. “I'll take your place on the Buddhist throne.”

The Buddha watched from above and said nothing.

When Wukong opened his eyes again, his soul had traveled into the body of someone in a godforsaken place called Penglai Continent. It was desperately poor, with nine-tenths of its spiritual veins depleted. The strongest cultivator on the island had only reached the Deity Transformation stage, and wouldn't even beat an elder from a third-rate sect on the mainland.

Worse still, all the resources, secret realms, and ascension routes in the entire Yanxia Realm were controlled by seventeen foreign divine kingdom representatives.

The honored warrior of the Great Sun Divine Kingdom, the universal priest of the Divine Nirvana Sanctuary, the elegant swordsman of the Gallic Divine Court: these scum treated the Yanxia Realm like a pigsty and thought its native cultivators belonged on their knees.

No one knew who this Foundation Establishment cultivator, who only knew how to hit things with a staff, really was.

And no one knew that behind him stood an old monster who had been suppressed for ten thousand years.

That old monster was called Bodhi. Back in the day, he had fought the Divine Alliance of Seventeen Nations alone and held his own.

“Monkey,” Bodhi said, “it's been ten thousand years. Time to make them give it all back.”

Wukong rose, staff in hand.

He fought from Penglai to the mainland, from the mainland to the spirit realm, and from the spirit realm right into the Divine Alliance's lair.

He sought neither Buddhahood nor sainthood.

He just wanted to tell those foreign gods:

This blow of my staff is called the rules.