Chapter 569: Mount Hua
Vergil walked down the black stone corridor as if he were in no hurry. His hands were in the pockets of his impeccable suit, the cold glow of the torches reflected in his silver hair, and each step sounded rhythmic, firm, almost disdainful. Beside him, Sapphire maintained her elegant bearing, but her gaze betrayed something that made her… uneasy.
Vergil noticed immediately. He wasn’t letting anything slip by.
“You’re strangely quiet,” he said, not looking at her, his voice low like a sharp purr. “I know that look on your face, like someone who carries bad news. Come on, just say it.”
Sapphire took a deep breath and looked away for a moment, as if debating whether it was wise to open her mouth. But she knew that hiding something from Vergil was more dangerous than facing the issue head-on.
“He… asked to see you,” she said finally, her voice almost like a confession.
Vergil stopped walking. It wasn’t a hesitant step, it was a sudden, calculated interruption. The echo of his sole against the stone died away, and he slowly turned his head, staring at Sapphire with those blue eyes that shone like blades.
“Him?” The word came out thick with iron. “Don’t tell me he’s who I think he is.”
Sapphire maintained her posture, but it was clear she didn’t like it.
“Wukong,” she confirmed, almost in a whisper. “The Monkey King.”
The silence that followed was heavy, almost palpable. Vergil narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, as if certain she had to be joking.
“Are you kidding me?” he finally said, his voice thick with incredulity and sarcasm.
Sapphire sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I wish I was,” she replied firmly. “But no, Vergil. He wants to talk to you.” And… you know as well as I do that there’s no escaping it.
Vergil stared at her for a few seconds, then let out a short, dry, humorless laugh.
“Of course,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fate always has a joke ready for me.”
He resumed walking, but this time there was a different weight to his steps. His thoughts weren’t in the present, but in a very convenient memory: the day Wukong, through manipulation or chance of Chaos, had ended up killing the Pope himself.
Vergil licked his lips, almost amused by the memory, and commented quietly:
“So… he still remembers that.”
“How could he forget?” Sapphire replied, now following closely behind him. “You made the Monkey King spill human blood. Luckily nothing happened, but usually that would cause a lot of Chaos.”
Vergil smirked, that lazy expression hiding malice.
“Ah, yes.” That said, you’ve killed more popes than him,” he muttered. “Stop messing with me.”
He stopped before an open balcony, staring at the eternal flames that lit the horizon of the underworld.
“He wants to talk to me…” Vergil repeated, his tone somewhere between thoughtful and provocative. “Well, there’s not much I can do. Where is he?”
…
The wind roared loudly as Vergil climbed the last stone steps of Mount Hua. The Chinese sky was tinged with an orange-red hue, as if the horizon itself were ablaze. With each step, the air seemed thinner, heavier, charged with a spiritual energy found nowhere else in the human world.
Legend said that this mountain was the abode of immortals. That simply reaching its summit was a challenge reserved for a select few—holy men, legendary warriors, or madmen unafraid of death. Vergil, naturally, fell into none of these categories. He climbed because he wanted to. Because he had a date.
And when he finally reached the top, the wind died. The silence was absolute, broken only by the pounding of his heart and the distant whisper of birds that never let themselves be seen.
Vergil looked up.
And there she was.
With her back to him, at the edge of the cliff, floated a woman. Her figure seemed molded of living gold, as if she had stepped out of a celestial tapestry. Her long, slightly wavy blond hair danced in the wind that rose around her, shimmering like strands of light beneath a radiant halo that burned behind her.
The dress she wore was an impossible blend of silk, light, and golden flames—cinched at the waist, opening in fluid layers that seemed to have a life of their own, shimmering like flames. Delicate chains and ethereal jewels adorned her arms and legs, reflecting shimmering sparks, as if her every gesture were accompanied by entire constellations.
It was, without a doubt, the vision of a goddess.
Vergil stopped, studying her with sharp eyes, and crossed his arms. He said nothing. He just waited.
Then the woman spoke, without even turning her head:
“Hey, boy.”
Her voice was strangely deep, with a husky timbre that clashed with her delicate form. It was almost as if two voices—one female, one male—were echoing in unison.
Vergil arched an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.
“You’re… not Wukong,” he said, without moving.
The woman laughed. A low laugh, laced with derision. Then she slowly turned her face away.
The smile she wore wasn’t human. It was wide, mocking, full of malice. And her eyes—golden as suns—burned with the unmistakable savagery of the Monkey King.
“I thought this appearance would be more… suitable for talking to you.” I heard you don’t like masculine things that much around you. Well, considering how many women you hang out with,” she said matter-of-factly, slowly spinning in the air until she was facing him head-on.
Vergil blinked once. Then twice. And then he let out a sigh, as if trying to process some cosmic idiocy.
“You turned into a hottie… to talk to me?” His tone was dry, dripping with sarcasm. “Really… are you okay with this?”
Wukong’s laughter echoed loudly, vibrating off the rocks of the mountain. It was a brazen laugh, a far cry from the goddess-like body she was flaunting at that moment.
“I’m a god, kid,” she replied, crossing her arms beneath her golden breasts as if unconcerned by the contradiction. “I have no gender. Damn, I’m a monkey.”
Vergil narrowed his eyes, but a mocking smile was already forming on his lips.
“Even monkeys have genitals.” he retorted, his tongue sharp as ever.
Wukong’s golden gaze flashed, and for an instant, the aura around him grew. The air distorted, the halo of light flickered, and the chains adorning his skin clinked loudly, as if vibrating in tune with his rage.
But instead of exploding, Wukong only laughed even louder.
“I’m a divine monkey, boy,” he replied, leaning forward, his smile almost canine. “And I can be anything I want. Man, woman… or even a hundred-headed dragon, if I so choose.”
Vergil sighed deeply, running his hand over his face as if in disbelief at the direction this conversation was going.
“Sure. Why not?” he murmured. “The world doesn’t have enough problems already… now I have to deal with a celestial monkey drag queen.”
“Drag queen?” Wukong laughed so hard that the halo of light around him wavered. “You’re hilarious, kid. No wonder I like you.”
Vergil raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
“You like me?” Don’t give me that. You didn’t call me here just to parade around in this… alternative version of yourself. What’s the real reason, Wukong?”
The air changed. Wukong’s smile remained, but his golden eyes lost some of their mockery. The aura surrounding his body grew heavier, more serious, almost suffocating.
He landed softly on the ground, his bare legs touching the ancient stone of Mount Hua. Each step toward Vergil seemed to carry the weight of centuries.
“The reason…” he said, his voice reverberating with something deeper. “…is that you owe me.”
Vergil arched an eyebrow, feigning confusion.
“I owe you? I just remember giving you the fun of killing the Pope,” he replied casually. “I thought you liked it.”
The gleam in Wukong’s eyes wavered between anger and amusement.
“I liked it,” he admitted without hesitation. “But you used me, kid. You pulled me into your little game without even asking.”
Vergil gave a lazy smile, the kind that irritated anyone who was serious.
“Ah… so that’s it. You’re not angry because you killed a religious leader. You’re angry because you had no choice.”
Wukong didn’t respond immediately. He just narrowed his eyes, assessing him, before finally saying,
“You have courage. I respect that. But courage without limits is stupidity.”
Vergil chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly, his blue eyes flashing like blades.
“And I never said I wasn’t stupid, Wukong,” he replied. “I just make it worth it.”
The silence that followed was thick, but there was a strange energy in it. As if the two were testing each other’s limits—teasing, prodding, but not crossing the line that would turn words into war.
Wukong then smiled again, opening his arms as if embracing the golden horizon.
“Very well, boy,” he said. “You have a tournament ahead of you. So I’ll just say it. Kill Yama’s candidate and I’ll forget about it.”
Vergil looked at Wukong for a second and wondered if she was going crazy or something. “Are you okay?”
Wukong looked at Vergil and let out a weary sigh. “I’m trying to prevent a Buddhist war, and you’re questioning my sanity?” Wukong sighed.
“Fuck, I’m already crazy for killing so many gods and Buddhas, let’s not discuss sanity now. These aren’t the old days. Even though I can kill whoever I want, I don’t want any trouble with the Jade Emperor. He gave me this shit as a gift, so I’m cool with it.” Wukong pointed to the tiara.
“A Buddhist war? What the hell is going on?”
“Let’s just say… it seems like we have internal problems within our pantheon. That’s why you’re going to help me.” Wukong smiled like a little girl trying to seduce a man.
“Go back to being a monkey, please. I’m sick watching this.”