The giant ape lumbered to a halt thirty paces from the Monkey King. Pumping power into its massive legs, it rose to a towering upright stance. It swung its arms wide and began hammering its chest with fists the size of iron cauldrons, unleashing a series of deafening, hysterical roars that shook the very air. The monkeys who had just been screaming for a fight were now a pathetic sight—eyes downcast, swallowing their pride in a display of sheer cowardice. They looked back and forth between the eight-foot-tall titan and the Monkey King, who barely stood four feet high. Their cold gazes were now filled with a mix of pity and mourning.

In a fair fight, a single giant ape wouldn't stand a chance against a coordinated mob of three thousand monkeys. But in a one-on-one duel? Not to be disrespectful, but every single monkey on that field was less than trash in the eyes of that Silverback.

The giant ape looked down its nose at the Monkey King, eyes brimming with condescension. "Hey, you! You little brat!" it barked arrogantly. "Let’s settle this face-to-face. You win, I’ll bow to you as King. I win, the Water Curtain Cave and that pathetic troop behind you belong to me!"

The Monkey King craned his neck, meeting the giant ape’s gaze with a casual, bored expression. A wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Since you're so eager to get embarrassed one-on-one, I'll indulge you," he replied at his own pace. "But do me a favor and wait a second. Let me stretch my legs before I deal with you."

Ignoring the ape, he strolled over to a massive, ancient tree by the riverbank—a trunk so thick it would take five men to encircle it. "Here’s a right roundhouse!" he barked. He snapped his foot bone-straight, whipped his right leg up, and delivered a clean, sharp strike to the trunk.

The leg moved like a whip, fast as a lightning bolt. A sickening CRACK echoed as the massive trunk snapped like a twig. A moment later, a heavy THUD followed as the giant tree slammed into the earth, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. As the dust settled, the clearing fell into a silence so profound you could hear a pin drop.

The monkeys stood there, mouths agape, completely shell-shocked. They looked at the fallen tree, then at the jagged, shattered stump, then at the Monkey King’s perfectly unharmed right leg. Finally, every single eye turned toward the giant ape, who was now frozen like a wooden statue. The look in their eyes was heavy with meaning—it was the look you give a walking corpse.

The giant ape stood frozen as if struck by a lightning bolt. His expression was a mix of pure disbelief and utter despair. He gulped hard, his heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum. After a long, paralyzed silence, a bone-chilling cold washed over him, making him feel as though he’d been plunged into an ice cellar. His legs finally gave out, and he collapsed into a heap on the ground. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but not a single syllable would come out.

A flash of mockery danced in the Monkey King’s eyes. He sauntered over to a massive boulder by the riverbank, shouted, "And here comes the left jab!" and snapped his left arm forward. There was a sharp, explosive CRACK. Right before everyone's eyes, the solid rock acted like a lump of wet clay—it was completely pulverized by the King’s fist, sending shards of stone flying in every direction.

The twenty-odd monkeys who had just been screaming for a duel were now paralyzed with terror. They stood rooted to the spot, their faces as pale as parchment, drenched in cold sweat. They didn't dare move a muscle, feeling as if it weren't the rock that the Monkey King had just demolished, but their own skulls.

The giant ape stared at the Monkey King, his soul practically leaving his body. He had completely forgotten to breathe. At that moment, only one thought occupied his mind: You absolute idiot. Why did you have to open your big mouth? Why did you insist on a duel? Why did you want to be King? Is your thick skull anywhere near as hard as that rock?! If you want to live, you’d better find a way out of this—now!

The Monkey King turned around, casually brushed the dust off his palms, and adopted the expression of a cat toyed with a cornered mouse. With a professional, hollow smile plastered on his face, he curled his middle finger toward the giant ape in a "come hither" gesture.

"Hey, Big Black and Tall," he said with mock seriousness. "Let’s get this duel started. Hurry it up, would you? Can't you see there’s a whole line of people waiting behind you?"

The giant ape’s face went rigid, and his sphincter snapped shut in a jolt of pure terror. He used every ounce of strength he had left to force himself upright, only for his knees to turn to jelly. He slammed back down into a kowtow, his head hitting the ground like a rhythmic piston, and he began to roar at the top of his lungs.

"Grandfather King! Please, don't kill me! I was blind—I have the eyes of a dog and couldn't recognize Mount Tai! I offended you without realizing who the hell I was dealing with. Please, Grandfather King, show some mercy! My entire clan is ready to submit. From now on, we’ll follow your every lead. We won't have a single second thought! Please, spare us!"

Old Black paused for a breath, then twisted his head to bark at the monkeys behind him. "What the hell are you all just standing there for?! Get over here and get on your knees for the Grandfather King!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the hundred-or-so black apes behind him dropped to the ground, shouting in unison, "Greetings, Grandfather King! We all wish to submit! Please, take us in!"

"Rise, everyone. We’re all family now, so let's cut the crap with the formalities," the Monkey King said, his smile widening. He gave a casual upward wave of his hand and looked at the giant ape. "Brother, what’s your name?"

The giant ape didn't dare stand. Keeping his head low, he replied from the dirt, "Reporting to the King, I don't have a real name. Because I’m just a big, dumb, black brute, the clan gave me the nickname 'Big Blackie.' You can just call me 'Old Black' from now on, Your Majesty."

This Old Black guy really knows how to read the room. He’s a fast learner, the King thought. He smiled and said aloud, "Old Black, my brother, get up. There’s no need for such stiff etiquette between brothers. Now hurry up, take your people and get in line behind me."

Hearing this, Old Black’s face relaxed slightly. He let out a massive sigh of relief, as if a mountain had finally been lifted off his chest. He scrambled to his feet with trembling legs and beckoned his followers. The hundred black apes quickly scurried over to join the King's side.

Once Old Black and his crew were in formation, the Monkey King cocked an eyebrow at the twenty-odd monkeys who were still standing in the clearing—clueless, pale-faced, and shifting nervously.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen. My bad," the King said with a pleasant, narrow-eyed smile. "I’m on a bit of a tight schedule here, so let's not waste time with individual duels. Why don't you guys just squad up and all come at me at once?"

After the Monkey King finished speaking, a deathly silence fell over the clearing. It wasn't just the twenty monkeys standing there—looking like withered wood with faces like ash—but even the three thousand apes behind them. Every single one of them kept their heads bowed, staring at the dirt, not daring to draw a single loud breath.

Old Black stood directly behind the King, staring down at the thin, seemingly frail silhouette before him. His eyes brimmed with a profound sense of security, and he threw his shoulders back, standing as straight as a pole. He cast a sidelong glance at the pathetic state of the opposing crowd, his lip curling in a sneer. Pah, he cursed internally, you blind, bird-brained idiots. You wouldn't know a good thing if it hit you in the face. You were laughing at me just a second ago—now let's see which one of you dies first.

Seeing the mob frozen in place and mute, the Monkey King dropped his smile. He took a few steps forward, his eyes dripping with disdain as he issued a cold, piercing interrogation. "Gentlemen, it’s high noon. You’ve got thousands of people clogging up the entrance to my Water Curtain Cave, and yet you won't fight and you won't surrender. What exactly is your game here?"

When the crowd remained speechless, their silence as heavy as a tomb, the King let out a thunderous "Hmph!" His eyes went wide and fierce, his expression shifting into one of righteous fury. He projected his voice in a resonant, commanding boom:

"Let me make one thing clear to all of you: even if you hadn't come looking for me today, I would have come looking for you in a few days' time. I’m laying my cards on the table right here and now. If you are willing to bow to me as your King, then from this moment on, we are family—no secrets, no barriers, and everything is negotiable. But if you refuse... well, the Flower and Fruit Mountain may be vast, but I'm afraid it won't be big enough to hold you anymore. I’ve said my piece. Deciding your path is up to you now. Don't say I didn't warn you."

His words struck like a bolt of lightning on a clear day, leaving the monkeys panicked like stray dogs. They looked at each other in a dither, faces twisted in a miserable, tearless despair. Not daring to raise their voices in protest, they huddled in small groups, whispering and murmuring frantically.

The Monkey King stood with his chest out, eyes as calm as an ancient well. Deep down, he had already made up his mind. He wasn't a bloodthirsty man by nature, but if anyone dared to play the "tough guy" now, he would absolutely rip the bastard apart in front of everyone. Why waste words on a bunch of beasts who only respect power and have no concept of gratitude? Brute force was the only logic that mattered. The Law of the Jungle was just that simple and crude: natural selection, survival of the fittest. Whoever has the bigger fist takes it all. It was as basic as that.

After about fifteen minutes, the same grey-furred macaque who had first insulted the King led over two hundred monkeys forward. Trembling like leaves, they collapsed to the ground, kowtowing incessantly. "Long live the Great King!" they wailed in unison. "We are all willing to submit! Please, Great King, show mercy and overlook our past transgressions!"

Before they could even finish, a long-armed gibbon led another hundred of his kin forward. In a state of sheer terror, they bowed and scraped, chanting, "Salutations to the Great King! We surrender!" Seeing this, the rest of the mob followed suit like a falling house of cards. They knelt in massive waves, heads hitting the ground like rhythmic pistons. The cries of "Long live the King!" rose like a surging river, wave after wave, an endless torrent of sound.

The Monkey King gave a slight nod, soaking in the worship of over three thousand apes. He thought to himself: Now this is the kind of mountain-shaking coronation that fits the "Handsome Monkey King" brand. No wonder girls in his past life were always obsessing over "milestones" and "ceremonies." Honestly, once the production value is cranked up this high, it really does go straight to your head.

With that thought, the King turned around and glanced at Old Black. When the giant ape’s eyes met the King’s for a split second, his scalp went numb. Instinctively, he dropped to one knee and roared at the top of his lungs, "Long live my King! May you live for ten thousand years!" The apes behind him followed his lead, their shouts of "Long live the King" echoing without pause.

In that vast clearing, the only ones still standing stupidly in place—aside from the King—were the Four Elders and the two hundred monkeys who had originally backed him. The Monkey King said nothing. He simply stared at Marquis Ma with a deadpan expression, his eyes flashing with a cold, metallic glint. Marquis Ma felt as if a fishbone were stuck in his throat and a thousand needles were pricking his back. His lip twitched. Despite the resentment boiling in his gut, he was powerless. He was forced to drop to one knee. "Long live my King! May you live for ten thousand years!" he intoned. Seeing their leader yield, the other three elders and their followers scrambled to the ground, their cries for the "Ten Thousand Year" reign filling the air.

The only throne worth sitting on is the one you fight for with your own fists, the King thought, a dark flash crossing his mind. You four old bastards... you dared to trick me into jumping off that waterfall yesterday. We’ll settle that tab soon enough.

Suddenly, he wiped the coldness from his face and replaced it with a warm, approachable smile. He gestured for everyone to rise. "What is all this? Please, get up! Get up!" he announced loudly. "Since you've all pledged your loyalty to me, we are brothers now. Let's not be so stiff with the formalities—it makes us look like strangers!"

His words were firm and carried the weight of a decree. The crowd felt a collective wave of relief wash over them. When they saw the King walk over and personally help the giant ape to his feet, they finally rose, standing in their places with newfound reverence.

The King’s smile faded, replaced by an air of natural authority. He pointed toward the waterfall behind him and spoke with absolute seriousness. "I need you all to understand something. This Water Curtain Cave can only hold about a thousand people. There are three thousand of us here, which means at least two thousand are going to be sleeping outside. Today, we get settled. As for the future—who sleeps inside and who sleeps out in the dirt will be decided by merit alone."

He paused to let that sink in. "And it’s not just about where you sleep. How much you eat, whether you have wine or meat, whether you have a harem of wives or live as a lonely bachelor—everything will be based on your contribution. As long as I am the King of this mountain, those are the rules. No exceptions, no cheating. Everyone gets a fair shake. Any questions?"

The Handsome Monkey King’s word was law. With the rules now set in stone, not a single monkey dared to breathe a word of protest. Instead, they scrambled to nod in frantic agreement, competing to see who could praise his benevolence and fairness the loudest. They gushed about how meeting such an enlightened ruler was a blessing across three lifetimes, a miracle equivalent to their ancestral graves bursting into auspicious smoke. While the mob was busy groveling and blowing smoke up his royal backside, the King remained unfazed, his expression neutral and his ears closed to the flattery.

"Since we’re settled on that," he commanded coolly, "Marquis Ma, I’m putting you in charge of calculating the quotas for cave entry based on the size of each troop. For the next few days, the local leaders will decide who gets a spot inside. As for the merit system I just established, I want you to lead the Four Elders and the other commanders in a serious brainstorming session. Draft a formal protocol over the next few days and bring it to me for final approval."

"Your servant obeys the decree," Marquis Ma replied immediately, cupping his hands in submission.

"Marquis Niu, map out the residential zones around the Water Curtain Cave for the various troops. Get our brothers settled, and make sure it’s done right," the King continued.

"Your servant obeys," Marquis Niu said, bowing his head low.

"Count Ji, it’s still early. Dispatch a team of able-bodied scouts into the woods immediately to gather supplies. Melons, pears, peaches, yams, pomegranates, honey, bird eggs—whatever you can find. No taboos, no limits; the more, the better. Count Ba, I’ve decided to host a massive banquet inside the cave tonight to honor the commanders. Go organize it. And make sure there’s plenty of extra food—I won't have the brothers living outside feeling neglected." Counts Ji and Ba bowed in unison.

"You, and you." The King turned, his face unreadable, and pointed out two macaques from the crowd—the very same two who had pestered him the night before about being his bodyguards. The pair dropped to one knee, cupping their hands. "We are here, Great King. What are your orders?"

"The Four Elders have a lot on their plates right now and need extra hands. I’m ordering the two of you to hand-pick a group of the smartest, most capable monkeys from our original troop. You will lead them and report directly to the Elders to assist them with whatever they need."

The two macaques suspecting nothing, took the order and vanished into the crowd. They figured that since they were working for the Four Elders, they had better pick the most loyal, high-performing "talent" available.

About five minutes later, the two macaques returned with forty-odd monkeys, standing respectfully to the side. The King narrowed his eyes, scanning the group repeatedly, burning each of their faces into his memory. Then, he put on a bright smile and raised his voice. "Four Elders, commanders—we're all one family now. Today is busy and chaotic, so let's break for now. Everyone get to work, and I’ll see you all tonight!"

The commanders beamed with relief and nodded eagerly before scattering like a flock of birds. Only Marquis Ma and the other three elders remained, their brows knitted in frustration. Ma shot a murderous glare at the two "clever" macaques before looking helplessly at the forty monkeys standing there. These were his most die-hard, core loyalists—and the Monkey King had just successfully smoked them all out into the open.

This Handsome Monkey King plays a deep game, Ma thought, a wave of profound exhaustion washing over him. He’s a dangerous man. Working under his nose is going to require ten times the caution. He felt as if he had been dropped into a pit of ice, a hollow sense of powerlessness chilling him to the bone.

"Old Black, grab your boys and the rest of these stragglers. You're with me." The Monkey King winked at the hundred or so monkeys behind him. He started to reach up to pat Old Black on the shoulder, but since the big guy was built like a brick house, he settled for a friendly slap on the forearm before turning toward the river without looking back. Seeing the King treat him with such easy affection made Old Black feel like he’d just swallowed a jar of honey. He let out a cheerful "On it, boss!" with eyes gleaming and a grin stretching from ear to ear, leading the hundred-plus monkeys as they followed in the King's footsteps like a dedicated shadow.

Hands clasped behind his back, the Monkey King strolled along the riverbank with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the endless field of river stones. After about a dozen paces, he stopped, leaned down, and picked up a translucent, whitish stone. He tossed it in his hand to gauge its weight, then turned. "Old Black, you know what this is?"

"Uh, King, it’s just a rock, isn't it?" Old Black replied, looking genuinely puzzled. The Monkey King let out a jagged grin. With a casual snap, he broke the stone in two. He held the two pieces together and gave them a sharp, quick rub—clack! A shower of bright sparks flew from the stones.

Old Black’s eyes went wide as saucers, his mouth hanging open. The monkeys standing nearby looked like they had just seen a ghost, staring at the stones in the King's hand with total bewilderment.

"The technical name for this is flint—otherwise known as fire-starter. The riverbank is crawling with them. In the future, remember: lay down some dry leaves, grass, or kindling first. Then, just like I did, strike two pieces of flint together to catch a spark, and you’ve got yourself a fire. Catch!" The Monkey King tossed the two pieces of flint into the arms of a small monkey nearby. "Take a dozen guys and comb the riverbank downstream. Scavenge as much of this stuff as you can and bring it back to Count Ba at the cave. We're definitely going to need it for the banquet tonight."

"Yes, sir!" The little monkey cradled the two stones like they were sacred relics. With a wave of his hand, he led his team downstream, eyes glued to the ground. Old Black watched the Monkey King with pure, unadulterated worship. He desperately wanted to kiss the King’s royal backside with some high-level flattery, but given his limited vocabulary, he racked his brain only to come up empty. He settled for a big thumbs-up and a goofy grin. "King, you’re something else! Not only do you have the hardest fists, but you’re a regular genius. I don’t respect anyone, but I sure as hell respect you."

"Two pieces of flint is all it takes to blow your mind? Let me show you something with a little more technical difficulty." The Monkey King gave a dismissive laugh and scooped up a flat river stone. He eyeballed the right angle and snapped the stone into two jagged halves. Then, forming a 'V' with his index and middle fingers, he clamped down on the fractured edge. With a sharp, grating screech, he ran his fingers along the rim. Right before their eyes, the King's fingers literally "honed" the edge of the stone. While it wasn't exactly a razor-sharp sword and had zero aesthetic appeal, for a piece of handmade stonework, it was a masterpiece.

"Find a sturdy stick, tie this stone to it with some vines, and you've got yourself a stone axe. Whether you're felling trees, hunting for food, or defending yourself, this is an essential tool," the King said, casually tossing the sharpened stone to Old Black. He then found a long, thin rock and began molding it like Play-Doh, snapping off pieces until it formed a rough triangular pyramid. He ran his fingers along both edges to sharpen them and threw it to Old Black as well. "Look—that’s a spearhead. Lash it to a pole and you have a stone spear. You can use it for defense, for gigging fish in the river, or, if you have to, you can hurl it like a javelin to take someone down from a distance."

Old Black stood there, jaw on the floor, looking back and forth between the lethal stone in his hand and the nonchalant Monkey King. To him, the King was no longer just a leader; he was a god. The rest of the troop was equally awestruck, their admiration absolute and messy. Old Black stared at the King for what felt like forever before finally stammering out, "K—King... how... how the hell do you know all this?" Every monkey's eyes locked onto the King, waiting for an answer.

The King scanned the crowd with a bored gaze, continuing to snap stones as he began to spin a tall tale. "Hah. Before I came to Mount Huaguo, the troop I was with had an Old Ancestor who lived to be hundreds of years old. That old-timer knew everything—astronomy, geography, human nature, the works. He understood the Yin and Yang, the Eight Trigrams, the mystical arts, and the hidden gates. He was a walking encyclopedia, a true scholar. I'm not bragging when I say there wasn't a thing in this world he didn't know. You lot are just used to looking at the sky from the bottom of a well; that’s why you think I’m a genius. In reality, I only picked up a fraction of the Old Ancestor’s wisdom. It’s nothing, really—hardly worth mentioning."

"King, was this Ancestor really that incredible? Where is he now?" Old Black asked, completely falling for the King's bullshit. Suddenly a total 'fanboy' of this fictional elder, he blurted out excitedly, "Why don't we send some guys to find him and bring him back to the Water Curtain Cave so we can take care of him?"

The King shot Old Black a look and sighed. "Alas, heaven is jealous of true talent. Twenty years ago, the Old Ancestor failed his celestial tribulation and was blasted into smithereens by a bolt of heavenly lightning."

Seeing the crushing disappointment on the monkeys' faces, the King felt a twinge of inward smugness while his hands kept working. He jerked his chin toward Old Black and gave a stern order. "What are you standing there for? Old Black, take them into the woods nearby. Gather a bunch of branches and vines. Later, I’ll teach you how to tie the knots so we can make enough spears and axes to bring back to the cave."

Old Black snapped out of it and nodded vigorously. He purposefully left behind about a dozen female monkeys—ones with sleek fur and "curvy" figures—claiming they should stay to help the King, then led the rest of the troop into the forest. Those females knew a rare opportunity when they saw one. Desperate to capture the King’s heart, they pulled out all the stops, circling him and flaunting their "charms" with shameless desperation.

Unfortunately for them, their efforts were doomed to be a one-sided waste of time. The King remained completely indifferent to their advances, his eyes never leaving the stones in his hands as he worked with singular focus.

Fire and tools—that’s the fundamental line between humans and animals, the King thought to himself. For these monkeys on Mount Huaguo, this is as far as I can lead them. Whether they eventually evolve into something like 'Planet of the Apes' is up to fate. He caught a glimpse of the female monkeys out of the corner of his eye and shook his head with a silent groan. Man... some things, you don't even have to do them—just the thought alone is nauseating. For the sake of my dignity as a former human, I’d rather have my fingers covered in calluses than ever engage in that kind of twisted, disgusting business.