Sun Wukong sat in front of a large amount of food—a whole roasted pig, rice, roasted chickens and ducks, spicy vegetables, and copious amounts of alcohol—where he, Cheng, and their lieutenants celebrated the death of men and the taking of Fort Stone. A fire—orange like Sun Wukong’s hair—blazed in the back, and a stew stewed above the orange licks, and would perhaps burn after the men stewing it lost their senses to the alcohol.

“What a great victory that was!” Xiaodan—one of Cheng’s lieutenants—said.

Sun Wukong put on his best smile and ignored the wails of the souls in his head. “That it was, Xiaodan. We showed them Dragon Fire bastards what it means to defy the Flower Fruit Empire. Death!” Sun Wukong laughed, slammed a cup of alcohol down his throat, and raised his empty cup in joy and pride. He had to be a happy, blood-thirsty general for his men. They couldn’t see the ghosts that haunted him. He needed to be strong for them.

“Hoorah!” The lieutenants raised their cups alongside Sun Wukong and downed their drinks. Cheng didn’t partake in the camaraderie. He ate his meal in silence and deep thought.

“When are we fighting next?” Xiaodan said.

“Soon, don’t worry, we’ll keep your blades fresh with Dragon Fire blood! Down with the Dragon Fire piss drinkers!” Sun Wukong said and another set of drink downing, and hoorahs followed.

“Calm down now, boys. We have to hear back from the capital before we do anything.” Cheng said.

“Always the party pooper, aren’t you, Cheng?” Sun Wukong said.

“We can’t move without good reason. The fort’s going to be an important part of the supply line when we attack the Dragon Fire interior. So, until somebody comes to replace us, we’re going to defend it and only defend it. No battles for us just yet.”

“Men! Boo this man. Booooooo!” Sun Wukong and the men around the table—with giant, booze-induced smiles—booed the blonde general.

Inside—past the act he put on—Sun Wukong, the blood-thirsty general, agreed with his friend. There was rarely a time he didn’t agree with Cheng. But he had a face to put on.

The after-fort-taking-party finished a bit later, and Sun Wukong found himself on a warm bed. Whether the warmth came from the residues of life a now dead man had produced, Sun Wukong would not care, he had a job to do in the morning. He lied on the bed and let the monsters take him. They dragged him to hell and clawed at him as they did.

After a tremendous nightmare, Sun Wukong woke up to shouts and grunts, the morning drills had started. Sergeants screamed, men shuffled their feet, and the sound of boots on stone as the men ran shook dust high enough that Sun Wukong could see a little cloud of it on the top floor where his bedroom was. Cheng’s deep voice echoed too, shouting commands and such. Up and early with his army. That was how Cheng kept his men alive, efficient, and deadly. He made sure each one was prepared, personally. Sun Wukong instead relied on his lieutenants and sergeants to do the drilling; they did their jobs well. Sun Wukong’s job was to destroy the enemy before his men could be tested.

Sun Wukong washed his face and put on his armor—the one with the peach symbol in the center—and walked down the spiraling staircase—which gave him an urgent need to throw up the day before, after his drinks—and entered the courtyard where his men trained. They cheered when they saw Sun Wukong’s orange face. “Hello to you too, men. How’s it going this morning?”

“It’s going, sir!” His men shouted.

The courtyard was really more like a small town. Small houses, blacksmiths, and even shops decorated the yard, or the town square, Sun Wukong guessed. The area was big enough to probably hold ten thousand men, but as of right now, it only held two thousand. The elite thousand of Sun Wukong’s ten-thousand and the elite thousand of Cheng’s ten thousand. The rest drilled and camped outside the fort walls; Sun Wukong would have to take a look at them too, later in the day.

“So loud. You all know how I feel about loud mornings.”

“Sorry, sir!” They said still as loud as three tons of glass slamming into the ground.

“I guess you all will never get it. What did I do to deserve such awful soldiers?”

“Thank you for the compliment, sir!”

“That was no fucking compliment. Just for that, get to sparring, you assholes.” Sun Wukong guessed that their early-morning-enthusiasm-virus infected him. How dreadful.

The rest of the morning continued, and drills ended. Some men got beat up and broke bones, but Heaven Path healers did their job well.

Sun Wukong stood above his soldiers on a floor above the courtyard. Cheng stood next to him.

“How many men did we lose yesterday, Cheng?” Sun Wukong asked.

“Not a lot. Your help kept the deaths low.” Cheng said.

“That’s good.” Sun Wukong said.

“That it is.” Cheng said.

“How long does my father plan to keep us here? Did you hear anything from him or Commander-General Tao before you left the capital?” Commander-General Tao Yang. The man who helped raised Sun Wukong and who was Cheng’s uncle.

“To hold until further notice. That’s all they told me. I wasn’t lying yesterday.”

“Damn those old bastards.”

“Why don’t you enjoy the peace? You’ve been battling non-stop, Sun Wukong. Take a break, give your orange hair a suntan.”

“I’ll sit back once the war’s overs.”

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“Well, you’re going to have to sit back. Whether you like it or not, we’re going to be here for a while.”

“Don’t blame me if I start breaking stuff. You know they call us monkey kings impatient and unpredictable.”

“Really? I don’t see it. I see a little monkey princeling being annoying. How about you start building stuff instead? I’m sure that will help you and your little ‘I’m so bored’ problem. Those archer towers and walls you knocked down could be a good start.”

“I thought you were glad I knocked down so many?”

“I was, but I would be even happier if you cleaned after yourself. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

“No, I hate you.” Sun Wukong said as he walked towards the destroyed walls, gate, and towers.

“Thank you, Sun Wukong, you’re the best. I might just fall in love with you.” Cheng said at Sun Wukong’s back.

Sun Wukong picked up a rock and slinged at his friend. Cheng dodged and laughed annoyingly. What a bastard. Sun Wukong would get him next time for at the moment, he walked towards the destruction he caused the day before.

The rebuilding didn’t take too long. Not when everyone had Ki and could move boulders around like nothing. The only problem Sun Wukong and the other soldiers who helped him ran into was the lack of boulders, there was no stone to rebuild. He had to run to the nearby mountains and break a couple of cliff faces to make new pieces of rollable rock. Now getting them to the fort… was also easy. It only took a day. But after rebuilding the entire fort—and maybe making it better than before—Sun Wukong ran into the same issue; he had nothing to do but listen to the screams and die from boredom. So, he went out for a walk in a forest a couple miles away from the fort, he wasn’t going to walk in the couple-days-old-battlefield, now, was he?

While in the forest, he examined spiked pines and found nothing particularly interesting about them and moved on to brushing the bark of a big fir tree. He didn’t know what he was expecting as he did what he did, but even with no expectations, he was let down. The bark was bark, sticky, annoying, sap covered bark at that. To wash off the tree gunk, he moved to a creek and washed his hand in it. It did not help, but a fish came by to investigate the commotion and ended up swimming right into Sun Wukong’s hand. He snatched it, his stomach growled, and he knew what he was going to have for dinner. A fire-starting and log sitting later, Sun Wukong had an about-to-be-eaten-fish on a pointy stick. The fish’s silver scales browned, its scent kissed the air, and Sun Wukong devoured it. It tasted like a fish caught in the woods cooked with no spices—fresh but kind of okay and bland. A couple of growls in the forest smelt the meal but were ignored. Sun Wukong did not fear little wolves.

The moon began to show, and Sun Wukong guessed the time to head back to the fort neared. Then he heard a rustle in the woods. Not the growls and silent paws of wolves but the footsteps of man. With an up from the log—he sat on—Sun Wukong went to investigate.

As Sun Wukong stalked, the rustles grew quieter. They probably knew Sun Wukong was onto them—whoever them was. But ‘them’ was an amateur. ‘Them’ crunched leaves and broke sticks.

But Sun Wukong had a sneaking suspicion that the amateur made their racket on purpose. That in itself told of naivety and inexperience. The trap was too obvious. Still, Sun Wukong played along. What could kill him? And it would bring some excitement to his night. His feet glided across the forest ground, but he made sure to step on a couple twigs and the like to let his trapper know that they had something in their net. With a step, a patch of leaves gave out and a new patch of air replaced it. Sun Wukong fell, and protruding, sharp points closed in on his hairy face. He turned around before the spears could gouge out his eyes—he doubted that the points could, but better to be safe—and his back landed on bamboo spikes that caressed his nape, spine, and buttocks aggressively. He laid there for a moment and enjoyed the relief the things had on his joints.

“Ha, gothcu!” A little voice said above. Then it looked down on Sun Wukong. “Wait, you’re a monkey, not a hog.”

“I am a monkey. Would you mind telling me what you’re doing out here, child?” With the way the voice sounded it couldn’t be anything else but a child.

“I’m not a chil-” The boy began to say. “How are you still alive?”

“Because monkey’s have strong backs, now answer my question.” Sun Wukong—no matter how much he wanted to lie down and relax—jumped out of the hole. He looked down at his trapper and found a small shirtless boy wearing a very realistic bear mask.

The little boy tried to dash away but he wasn’t fast enough, Sun Wukong grabbed the boy by the neck and the little one’s feet came off the ground. He wasn’t going to squeeze of course, he just didn’t how else to contain the little bear-headed child. “Now, where are your parents and what are you doing all alone out here?”

“Let me go! You hairy monster!” The little boy tried kicking Sun Wukong in the guts, face, and all the other kickable parts. In response, Sun Wukong held the boy a bit further away.

“I’m not going to hurt you. So, stop your kicking!” The brat was still trying his best. Sun Wukong waited it out and eventually the child stopped. “Good. Now we can get to you answering my questions.” The little asshole kicked again and missed again. Sun Wukong sighed. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just a bit concerned about a small child alone in the woods. What are you doing out here?”

“Liar! All adults are liars!” The kid said as he dangled. “You’re hurting me now!”

“Because I don’t want you to run away. What do I have to do for you to trust me?”

The boy stayed silent for a moment and the moon broke through the trees and shone down on the boy. His ribs were pointed and defined, and his belly looked like it had never known food. Sun Wukong—even if the boy seemed determined to kick him in all the soft bits—felt sympathy for the child. No one should ever have to go hungry. He loosened his grip a bit, the boy didn’t deserve the harsh treatment. “You promise not to hurt me? You pinky promise?” The boy said.

A heavy sense of sorrow and celebration of innocence hit Sun Wukong in the gut. “Of course, let me let you down and I can swear it on my ancestors. I will not hurt you.” He let the boy down and the dangling feet from before stabilized under soft, lush dirt. And then the boy tried kicking Sun Wukong in the stones. Sun Wukong in turn caught the kick and—to end the back and forth leading to nowhere—handed a swift chop to the boy’s neck. That’s going to knock him out for a bit, Sun Wukong thought, at least until we get to the fort. The child would be fed.

Wind rustled Sun Wukong’s hair as he rushed through the forest and back to the fort while the child slept on his back. When he arrived, he blew down the door to the kitchen and placed the boy on a couch near the dining room. Sun Wukong scavenged the cabinets and storage room for food; he found stale bread and dry jerky. The perfect soldier’s ration. A plate of it was assembled and Sun Wukong rushed it out onto the dining table and began to wake the boy.

“Mommy? Daddy?” The boy said in a half daze. Dazes clear up and the boy’s head snapped to Sun Wukong’s own. “Where am I? What are you doing?” His voice trembled. His earlier bravado was gone.

“Nothing. Unless you hate food. Relax, everything’s going to be okay. I swear my monkey pride on it.”

“Food…?”

“Yeah, not good food, but food. Aren’t you excited? Here, let me show you.” Sun Wukong grabbed the plate off the table and handed it to the child.

“It’s looks nasty.”

“That’s soldier’s food for ya. Going to eat it or not?”

The Bear-headed child didn’t say a thing, threw off his mask, became a regular headed child, and began to munch down the ‘nasty food’. The boy had black hair that looked extremely unwashed, yellow, sharp eyes, hollow cheeks, and a look that was too heavy for a boy his age.

The boy began to choke because he was eating so fast. Sun Wukong rushed to the kitchen and brought him a cup of water. The boy drank it down and slammed his fist into his chest then coughed. “Slow down. Slow down. The food’s not going anywhere.” The boy ignored him and continued his meal.

Sun Wukong waited until the boy finished eating before he spoke next. “So, what’s your name? I can’t go on calling you boy forever now, can I?”

Yellow eyes analyzed Sun Wukong and silence surrounded him. “Well?” Sun Wukong asked.

The boy stayed silent for a bit longer—long enough to make Sun Wukong almost give up and ask again—but his voice eventually echoed out. “My name is Yunru Jie.”

“Good to meet you, Jie. I’m Sun Wukong.”

“Sun Wukong? I think I’ve heard that name before.”

“You should, I’m a prince, you know.”

“Princes aren’t good for anything. That’s what my mother told me.”

“And where is your mother? She wouldn’t leave you out in the woods out by yourself now, would she?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh.”

“What do you want?” Jie asked, his toes were tip-toed, his back arched, and the face of a runner looked at Sun Wukong.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to kill you, or sell you, or whatever else is going through your brain. I just want to help.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“And that’s fine. I wanted to help anyway. Is that wrong of me?”

“Hitting me was.”

“Ahh. You’re right. Sorry about that. But now, you’re here. What are you going to do next? Go back to the woods and starve again? I saw your ribs; when was the last time you ate? I’m guessing it’s been a while; you don’t have to answer. Why don’t you stay? There’s food here and I could use another messenger boy. How about it?”

“You call that food?” Jie pointed at the empty plate.

“It’s something. And the chefs cook much better meals than that. Don’t worry, there’s good food here too. Now, decide already. It’s getting late and I have to wake up late tomorrow.”

“Wake up late?”

“Yes, yes. What general wakes up before his men. What’s your choice, Jie? A life starving alone in the woods. Or—and a choice I would personally make—would you rather stay here and make friends and eat food.”

“I…”

“I decided for you. Stay here and live.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I just did you, little bastard. Come on, let’s get you a room and you better not run away, I’ll drag you back and make sure to go through mud puddles and rose bushes.”

“I knew I couldn’t trust you.” Jie bolted, Sun Wukong jumped then landed right next to the running boy and landed a good chop to his neck. Jie crumbled, and Sun Wukong slung him onto his shoulder.

Did I do the right thing? Sun Wukong thought to himself. No, he could not doubt himself; he would not let Jie die a worthless death; he was tired of those; he hated them. No matter what, no matter all the bad things he did in his life, he could at least make sure the boy over his shoulder was not going to die. At least not today, nor as long as the boy remained in his army, and he would remain for a bit.

Sun Wukong walked up the stairs and into a room, he placed Jie down into a bed, and walked to his own room. Hopefully, a good night’s rest cooled the boy’s suspicions. But only tomorrow knew.