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He tore off the name plates, gathered the wooden clappers and bells, then picked up the patrol banner and slung it over his back.
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Wukong remained trapped inside the golden cymbals. The darkness was absolute, and the heat became so suffocating that sweat soon covered his entire body.
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Tang Monk rode hastily eastward and soon came upon Bajie and Sha Wujing, who asked in surprise: “Where are you going, Master? Don’t you realize you’re heading in the wrong direction?”
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Both the master and his disciples gazed in awe at the natural scenery, carelessly letting pass the Dragon Boat Festival without any celebration. They came across yet another towering mountain blocking their path. The terrain was so steep that for a long time the four pilgrims were forced to move forward at an exasperatingly…
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When Wukong finally returned to the spot on the mountain where he had left Tang Monk and the others, he found no one there; everyone had vanished. The circle he had drawn with his iron bar was still visible, but inside it there was no sign of the horse. Worried, he turned his gaze…