Chapter Text
"They say," the Pig began, in a low voice over barely heard over the crackling fire, "that he broke near every demon-binding chain in Heaven as they tried to tie him down."
On many a night such as this, when the master and three disciples were camped beneath the stars in an unpopulated wood, and the Pig was in a particularly loquacious mood, Sand and the Horse coaxed entertainment from the Pig in the form of retellings of the exploits of their illustrious elder brother.
"Now, we all know that the Erlang Immortal and all Six Brothers of Mei Mountain weren't enough to get walloped by him. Everyone's heard of that. But what most don't know is that, the real trouble began after he was captured."
Here the Pig paused to make sure that the subject of the discussion had not returned from scouting. His audience followed his lead, glancing furtively around the gloom around them for any flashes of gold. Then, feeling secure, all huddled closer to the Pig.
"They had to use hooks. Lanced, right though here." The Pig held up a stubby forefinger and thumb, and pinched his own collar bones - or where they should be beneath a sturdy layer of fat. "Keeps the prisoner from gathering any strength, see? The more furiously he tries to struggle, the more it drains him."
"I have seen them, caught a glimpse as the foot soldiers rushed to the Execution Platform with them… They looked like ship's anchors." Sand confirmed, for the benefit of the wide-eyed Horse.
"Then there was the problem of executing him." The Pig continued.
"Lighting. Swords. Arrows, peppering down like rain in a thunderstorm. All three hundred thousand Heavenly Hounds, set loose at him with orders to devour."
The Pig paused to take a swig of something from his calabash bottle.
"Couldn't kill him." he said, as he finished swallowing.
The Pig leaned forward, breath suspiciously musty. "Doesn't mean it didn't hurt him, of course."
"They say that his blood boiled as the lightning struck and evaporated from his body in a column of red steam. And then the dogs tore out every organ of his innards, ripped apart every inch of his flesh, until, finally, there was nothing left."
"Nothing but bones. That was what he was, at the end of it, a charred monkey skeleton hanging by great metal hooks the size of anchors to the Heavenly Execution Post."
The Pig lowered his voice to a whisper.
"But he wouldn't die. They say that even when his eyes were dug out, two spots of light remained in his skull. Long after his blood was drained dry, his annoying chirrup could still be heard echoing all through the halls of the Heavenly Palace, laughing at the Emperor and all his councilors at their wit's end trying to defeat him..."
"How?"
The Pig, Sand and the Horse all started. They had not noticed that Tang was listening, quite intently.
"Eh?" The Pig articulated.
"How did he laugh, if he was nothing but bone? Wouldn't his throat would be gone?"
"With pure will, Master. And, uh, spite. The elder brother, meaning no disrespect, has an extremely powerful ability to spite, as Master knows…"
"So yeah, reduced to a skeleton, and still laughing at the gods. That's what they say."