At dawn, Tripitaka and his companions were placed in an open-air plaza.
This large plaza, resembling an arena or drill ground, was completely encircled—iron chains were looped around as railings, and the area was guarded by troops. Though not a true prison, the security was extremely tight. After all, with a group of over a thousand captives, this small western kingdom no longer had enough jail cells to hold them.
Inside the palace, a civil official hurried before the king, bowed deeply, and said, "Your Majesty, the Royal Preceptor is waiting outside."
The candles had burned all night, and wax from the candlestick had already dripped onto the floor.
In the small hall, the old king, drowsy and exhausted, lifted his head and gazed at the official before him, speaking softly, "Invite the Royal Preceptor in."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The official bowed, then turned and departed.
"Hmph, he finally shows up." Standing to the side, a minister with a white beard but a robust bearing said sternly, "To actually redeploy the palace guards and put His Majesty in danger—if this were judged strictly, it would be tantamount to rebellion! Your Majesty, you must not indulge him any further."
These were harsh words, but the old king seemed unmoved. After a sleepless night, he was barely holding on, his eyes hazy and spirit flagging.
Soon, Many-Eyes the Centipede entered the hall, bowed, and said, "This humble Daoist, Many-Eyes, greets Your Majesty."
Upon hearing this, the old king quickly waved his hand, "No need for formalities, no need."
Many-Eyes the Centipede slowly lowered his hands and straightened his back, his expression as composed as if he had never committed any offense.
One of the ministers nearby could not restrain himself and was about to rebuke him harshly, but the old king discreetly signaled him to stay silent. Reluctantly, the minister closed his mouth.
After a brief silence, the old king stroked his long beard and said, "Lord Many-Eyes, I heard you redeployed my royal guards yesterday. Is that true?"
"It is true," Many-Eyes replied loudly, head held high. "An evil monk arrived from the East and, together with some bandits, attacked city patrols at the market. To prevent this demon monk from harming the people, I boldly borrowed Your Majesty’s royal guards. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness."
Though he said, "I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness," there was not the slightest trace of guilt on Many-Eyes' face. The ministers present grew even more furious, clenching their fists until veins bulged.
But Many-Eyes paid them no mind whatsoever.
"So that’s how it was," the old king breathed a little easier. "What sort of demon monk was he? Could he summon wind and rain? And has he been captured now?"
"Your Majesty, he was nothing but a practitioner of some minor, crooked arts," Many-Eyes replied, not even glancing at the ministers, but bowing slightly to the old king. "Thanks to Your Majesty’s great fortune, the demon monk has already been seized by my men. Thankfully, no harm came to the people. He is now imprisoned at Cloudrise Platform."
"Captured, good, captured, good!" The old king laughed heartily. "Lord Many-Eyes, you’ve earned yet another great merit. I have nothing left to reward you with!"
Tripitaka opened his eyes slightly, still saying nothing.
The little white dragon looked at the monk he had pinned, somewhat at a loss.
The monk stared fearfully at the little white dragon. After a long moment, he summoned his courage and shouted, "Did I say anything wrong? Before you came, we had to do forced labor, but our lives weren’t in danger. After you arrived... In just one day, so many have died... My master is dead, my junior brother is dead... Was I wrong?"
At this, the monk began to wail loudly.
The people around nervously shrank back, refusing to listen or look, as if the monk’s cries did not exist.
Tripitaka continued to sit quietly, gazing at the monk pinned by the little white dragon, filled with helpless sorrow.
The little white dragon glanced at Tripitaka, hesitated, and finally rolled his eyes and pulled the waterskin from the monk’s sleeve.
"Even if your father died, you still have to hand over the waterskin."
Holding the waterskin, the little white dragon walked back step by step.
The monks hurriedly made way.
He walked up to Tripitaka, unscrewed the waterskin, and handed it to him: "Drink some water. Don’t let yourself die of thirst before the arrows get you."
Tripitaka’s gaze remained fixed on the monk sobbing in the distance, lost in thought.
After a while, he took the waterskin and cap from the little white dragon, but did not drink. Instead, he screwed the cap back on and walked step by step toward the monk.
The little white dragon was dumbfounded.
He watched as Tripitaka walked through the crowd, step by step, to the collapsed monk, and bent down to return the waterskin.
The monk stared wide-eyed at Tripitaka, unsure whether to accept it.
"My friend here may be a bit reckless, but he means no harm. Please forgive him."
The monk snatched the waterskin from Tripitaka, hugged it to his chest, and scrambled away.
Looking at his now empty hands, Tripitaka straightened up and walked back.
"Are you crazy from chanting? I snatched it for you, and you gave it back?"
"Ao Lie, be quiet!" Marshal Silver said.
After being scolded, the little white dragon reluctantly fell silent. He walked away, then turned and muttered, "I meant for you to drink it so I could give my cousin some. He’s still hurt... I didn’t expect you..."
Gritting his teeth, the little white dragon sat down angrily next to Tuo Jie.
Tripitaka looked at Tuo Jie, who was lying on the ground, pale-faced, and bowed slightly. Tuo Jie nodded back with difficulty.
"Did you see all of this clearly?"
Reporting to the Grand Preceptor, I saw it with my own eyes.
Upon hearing this, Many-Eyes couldn’t help but laugh.
The three Taoists beside Many-Eyes were all confused.
"Sir, what is it...?"
Many-Eyes smiled and waved. The officer quickly approached.
After a brief whisper, the officer responded, "Yes, sir," and hurried out of the hall.
After the officer left, Many-Eyes said leisurely, "Interesting, very interesting. Marshal Silver and the others left spells on their weapons, so we can’t seize them for now. In that case, let’s try a different approach."
Looking at the three Taoists beside him, Many-Eyes said softly, "Give them water, but only a little, and only to the monks originally imprisoned at the quarry."