After a period of rest, that evening Tripitaka once again accepted Zhenyuan's invitation to the great hall of Five-Fruits Temple to explain the Way of Universal Deliverance.
As before, Monkey personally accompanied him, not daring to be careless.
Zhenyuan remained as courteous as ever, and Tripitaka answered every question, explaining with utmost effort.
Time slipped by little by little.
When midnight arrived, Monkey pulled Tripitaka back to the tower, citing the need to rise early for travel the next day.
This time, Zhenyuan did not press them to stay. Everything truly seemed as he had said—he had completely given up the idea of stopping the westward journey.
Although this outcome suited Monkey’s interests, what kind of words could have changed Zhenyuan’s mind so quickly?
Monkey could never figure this out.
After bidding farewell to Zhenyuan and settling Tripitaka in their quarters, Monkey stepped out of the tower and discovered that Marshal Silver, who had disappeared during the day, had returned. Bathed in moonlight, he sat quietly in the elegant courtyard, maintaining his human form and leisurely sipping tea, looking perfectly at ease.
"Hey, where did you run off to during the day?" Monkey leaned on his Golden Staff, strolling over and sitting down on the stone chair opposite Marshal Silver.
"I was bored, so I went out for a walk." Marshal Silver lowered his head, poured Monkey a cup of tea, and pushed it across.
"You get bored? I thought you were born that way." Monkey reached out, picked up the teacup, took a gentle sip, and set it back down.
Then the two of them just sat there quietly.
The bright moon slowly drifted between the clouds. A gentle breeze stirred the branches and leaves.
All of Five-Fruits Temple was so quiet that only the occasional chirp of crickets could be heard.
Marshal Silver gazed down at a floating tea leaf in his cup, watching the faint smoke rise, sighing from time to time.
Monkey, meanwhile, rolled his eyes—sometimes gazing at the full moon above, sometimes glancing at the ants crawling on the dead leaves beside him, sometimes staring at Marshal Silver, constantly shifting his posture.
In a way, these two—once from opposing camps—actually shared many similarities: both were stubborn, once they made up their minds nothing could change them; both insisted on staying true to themselves; both disliked crowds; both preferred solitude...
Yet for all their similarities, these two were also very different.
Both liked being alone, but Marshal Silver truly just sat there, unmoving—perhaps deep in thought, perhaps with his mind completely blank. The others had long grown used to this along the journey.