The mountain was so high that it blocked the sun and obscured the constellations, and the gorges below plunged deep, neighboring the azure abyss.
The scenery of Flat Top Mountain was exquisitely beautiful: the mountain, rugged and majestic; the water, shimmering and lovely. It formed a stark contrast to the dark and foggy White Tiger Hill encountered before. Gazing back, one would find that only the sights of Longevity Mountain could rival this place in the splendor of fall.
Putting it mildly, one couldn't secure this piece of land without some clout.
Sun Wukong's face was a picture of misery as he carefully probed the path ahead. Within a short time, he encountered a woodcutter gathering firewood in the mountains.
Within a radius of five hundred miles, it was all private courtyards, not even a village to be seen. This meant that for a bundle of firewood, the woodcutter had to travel at least a thousand miles back and forth.
What a remarkable spirit of toil and endurance!