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CHAPTER 10: THE MONKEY KING’S SONG

The air still crackled with the Bird King’s austere presence, a solemnity that clung to the Samsara hallway like morning frost. Then, a new portal tore open not with a roar, but with a riot of color and sound. Out tumbled a figure, all fluid motion and impish energy, landing in a crouch before them. The Monkey King. He was not what they expected. He wore an armored vest but no shirt, revealing a lean, powerful torso. His face was sharp and intelligent, crowned with a head of wild, dark hair, and his eyes held a universe of cleverness and chaos. A long, expressive tail swished behind him like a living question mark. In his hand, he casually spun a slender, glowing staff. “Whoa there! Serious faces, serious faces!” he chirped, his voice a melodic tease. 

He gestured with his chin to the space where the Bird King had vanished. “Don’t tell me you let old Iron Feather scare you? He’s all ‘I am the law!’” the Monkey King boomed in a perfect, mocking imitation, puffing out his chest. “So stiff! The universe needs to breathe, you know!” Preet, still raw from his cleansing, floated cautiously. “He… was correcting my mistake.”

 “Mistake? Pah!” The Monkey King dismissed the notion with a flick of his wrist. “You took a step, you tripped. Big deal! You think I never messed up?” He laughed, a sound like jingling bells. “I once stole the peaches of immortality and threw the core at a celestial emperor’s head! *That* was a mistake. What you did was a… a learning opportunity!”

 He bounded over to Preet, peering at his flickering form. “He scrubbed you clean, didn’t he? Took all the fun out. You can’t learn compassion just by having your sins washed away. You have to *choose* it, again and again, even when it’s hard, even when you fail. That’s the real work!” He spun his staff, and the environment around them melted, reshaping into the River of Sacrifice a gentle, glowing stream where the waters were made of countless selfless acts from across time.

“Listen,” the Monkey King said, his tone softening from jest to gentle wisdom. He began to sing, his voice both playful and profound, echoing across the waters, “The mind so sharp, it cuts the soul, A heart too cautious, never whole. 

The rule too strict, the law too cold, 

Makes even a brave story grow old.  

So dance in the rain of your own big mess,  

Let your heart be light, let your spirit confess. 

For the universe winks in the dark of the night,  

And the heaviest burden is taking things too right.”

The song wasn’t a spell, but a salve. With every verse, Preet felt the rigid, scrubbed-clean feeling left by the Bird King soften. He wasn’t being absolved; he was being understood. The weight of his guilt began to feel less like a chain and more like a lesson he could carry without breaking. “You and the Bird King… you are opposites,” Preet observed. “Opposites? Ha! We’re a team!” the Monkey King grinned, performing a backflip for no apparent reason. “He’s the ‘No!’ and I’m the *‘But what if…?’ He sets the boundary, I show you the freedom within it. Discipline and play. Order and chaos. You can’t have one without the other!”

He stopped his antics and looked at Preet with sudden, startling seriousness. “Your brain is a mighty tool, little light. But don’t let it become a cage for your heart. True wisdom knows when to be serious,” he shot a playful glance in the direction the Bird King had gone, “and when to stick your tongue out at the heavens.”

From a small pouch at his hip, the Monkey King produced a single, luminous Peach of Enlightenment. He didn’t hand it to Preet, but took a dramatic bite himself, juice sparkling like starlight. As he chewed, he winked, and a single, perfect peach pit, glowing with soft energy, appeared in his palm. He tossed it to Preet. “A little seed of ‘don’t-sweat-it’ for you,” he said. “Water it with your laughter. Now, I’ve got a cloud to race! Toddles!”

 With a final, echoing laugh, he bounded away, vanishing as quickly as he came. The Peach Pit pulsed warmly in Preet’s hand, not with immense power, but with a gentle, unwavering reminder of balance. Mr. David let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Well. That was… a lot.” Preet looked from the pit in his hand to his friends, a new, quieter light in his core. “I understand now,” he said. “The Bird King taught me the weight of my actions. The Monkey King taught me I am allowed to grow from them.” The hallway felt different. Lighter. The oppressive solemnity was gone, replaced by a sense of boundless, playful possibility. The next chapter of their journey was waiting.

CONTINUE