Chapter 4: Return to Apple Grove

Apple Grove, Waterfall Cave.

After leaving Maple Heights Ridge, Marcus returned home in a single leap on his Cloud Somersault.

It was a long, lazy arc through the sky—he soared over strip malls, highways, backyard pools, and the old high school football field. Landing with a soft thud behind the Waterfall Cave, he shook out his fur, dusted off his sneakers, and let out a deep, contented sigh. Home.

The mountain monkeys were overjoyed. In his absence, many monsters had coveted the spiritual energy of Apple Grove and often stirred up trouble.

The local crowd—mostly cousins and hangers-on—swarmed him with high-fives and backslaps. A couple of the younger monkeys blasted music from a Bluetooth speaker, while others challenged Marcus to a pickup basketball game behind the cave. There was chatter about turf wars, minor squabbles, and a few scary run-ins with the local wildlife. Marcus listened patiently, offering reassurance and a few practical tips for keeping the neighborhood safe.

In the original Journey to the West, after returning, Marcus went around settling scores, befriended six other demon kings after fighting, formed a brotherhood called the Seven Sages, and drew the President’s attention—leading to a fierce battle with heavenly troops.

The old stories painted him as a local hero, a ringleader, a rebel with a cause. There were tales of epic brawls, unlikely friendships, and enough drama to fill a season of reality TV. But Marcus saw it all with new eyes now—less myth, more cautionary tale.

But, following the forum users’ advice, Marcus now had no interest in settling scores. He just hid out in the Waterfall Cave, meditating, refining potions, and tending the furnace all day.

He’d carved out a little studio in the back—a hammock strung between two stalactites, shelves lined with herbal teas and dog-eared paperbacks. Days passed in quiet routine: morning meditation, a little herbal chemistry, the occasional yoga session with his younger cousins. Marcus found peace in the mundane, a sense of control that all the old glory had never given him.

Unless a monster actually came knocking, Marcus was content to stay put—if challenged, he’d come out and spar for a bit.

He kept his skills sharp, but never went looking for a fight. If trouble found him, he handled it—swiftly, but with as little fuss as possible. Sometimes the neighborhood kids would come watch, hoping for a show, but Marcus always sent them home with a snack and a gentle warning about the value of keeping your head down.

As for the demon kings in Journey to the West, Marcus now saw right through them. Back then, they talked a big game, but when real trouble came, they scattered faster than anyone.

He’d seen it in every group project, every sports team—lots of folks loved the spotlight, but when the going got tough, only a handful stuck it out. Marcus stopped putting faith in titles or big promises. He looked for real actions, quiet loyalty, the stuff you could count on when things hit the fan.

Throughout the entire journey, except for the Bull Demon King, the rest vanished without a trace—after swearing brotherhood, they just freeloaded in Apple Grove, disturbing Marcus’s cultivation, and offering no help whatsoever.

They hung around like college roommates who never paid rent, always raiding the fridge and leaving dirty dishes in the sink. It became a running joke—'Where’d everyone go?' He learned to appreciate the few who stayed, even when the excitement died down. Marcus kept his circle small, his expectations realistic.

After many encounters, Marcus became even more convinced of his suspicions:

He started seeing patterns, the way people moved in and out of his life. There was always someone ready to ride your coattails, but few willing to share the burden when things got real.

These demon kings weren’t trying to seize Apple Grove at all. They just lingered, refusing to leave, and kept Marcus too busy to cultivate.

He realized they were more distraction than threat—more interested in handouts than hard work. Marcus learned to draw boundaries, to say no with a smile, and to keep his priorities straight.

In short, they were there to drag him down—probably to keep him from becoming too powerful and threatening the safety of the gods’ pets and immortal servants when the journey began.

It was like the old coach’s advice: 'Sometimes the competition isn’t the other team—it’s the noise around you.' Marcus resolved to keep his head clear, his focus sharp.

On the other hand, these demon kings were all smiles and friendliness. As the saying goes, "You can’t punch a smiling face." He couldn’t just turn hostile for no reason.

He kept things cordial, never starting drama, never giving anyone an excuse to call him the bad guy. It was the art of polite distance, something Marcus had mastered at a dozen family reunions.

Since Plan A wasn’t working, it was time to move on to Plan B.

He grinned to himself, the way he always did before starting a new chapter. If the old playbook wasn’t getting results, it was time to write a new one—quietly, carefully, and always a step ahead.

Marcus glanced at his phone, a new notification blinking from the forum: "Ready for your next quest?" He grinned—whatever came next, he was finally calling the shots.