The monks all turned their gaze on Tripitaka, their eyes wide as brass bells.
With a single sentence, Many-Eyes the Centipede had confirmed their earlier suspicions—this group of formidable guardians existed solely to protect Tripitaka. And their present calamity was entirely due to Tripitaka’s arrival.
At this moment, every pair of eyes was bloodshot. The hostility that had faded now flared up again.
Tripitaka pressed his palms together, eyes closed, and softly intoned, "Amitabha."
“Well then?” Many-Eyes the Centipede swayed atop his tall horse and said, “Will you end it yourself, let me do it, or let them do it? Master Tripitaka, there are three paths before you—choose one.”
Behind him, taut bowstrings creaked in the darkness, chilling the monks to the bone. Some, legs buckling, collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Just as Tripitaka opened his eyes and drew a deep breath to speak, a figure stepped in front of him—Barry Bear!
Without a word, Barry Bear shielded Tripitaka behind him. The usually silent bear demon now called out loudly, “Lord Many-Eyes, do you still recognize your old subordinate?”
For a moment, the entire scene fell silent. Everyone turned to Barry Bear, their faces tinged with confusion.
After a long pause, Many-Eyes the Centipede squinted and hesitantly asked, “You’re... the deputy under King Macaque... Black Fur?”
“This fellow is also one of the Monkey King's old Blossom Mountain subordinates?” Marshal Silver was momentarily stunned.
Tripitaka's face was likewise tinged with surprise and suspicion.
But then, considering King Roc, King Liontusk, King Gloomape, and even Red Boy who once challenged the Monkey King directly, it wasn't all that strange.
Blossom Mountain had long since fractured and was no longer what it used to be.
“It's rare that Lord Many-Eyes still remembers me!” Barry Bear stepped forward and cupped his hands. “Lord Many-Eyes has always been loyal to the Great Sage, I've heard much of your reputation. It's just...”
Barry Bear spread his hands, sweeping his gaze over the encircling army, then continued, “The Great Sage is wholly dedicated to escorting Master Tripitaka to the West for the scriptures—what is Lord Many-Eyes' intention here?”
“Intention?” Many-Eyes the Centipede snorted coldly. “I should be asking you: The Great Sage has been deceived by the Buddhist Order, and you, his subordinate, have done nothing to stop it. King Roc, King Liontusk, King Gloomape have all defected to Buddhism. Has your master, King Macaque, also betrayed us?”
“When did I ever betray anyone?” Barry Bear erupted in anger, clenching his fists and preparing to charge, but General Curtain quickly pulled him back.
Watching Barry Bear closely, General Curtain slowly shook his head. Only then did Barry Bear calm down a little, turning back to spit at Many-Eyes.
Lifting his chin, Many-Eyes smiled with contempt and said to Tripitaka, “How long do you intend to keep hiding, Master Tripitaka? Is this your way of saving all beings? Truly, Buddhist doctrine is profound.”
At those words, laughter rippled through the ranks of the army.
Marshal Silver's ears twitched slightly. He sighed to Tripitaka, "There must be at least a thousand demons in there..."
Most of the soldiers present still wore expressions of confusion, since they couldn't understand the exchanges between the two sides. Not all who failed to react were humans, but those who did understand—and laughed—were certainly demons under Many-Eyes' command.
Both Barry Bear and General Curtain looked visibly unsettled.
There was no doubt: at this moment, their party was already in grave danger.
“Do not worry, Marshal. The other side must be mistaken.” Tripitaka patted Marshal Silver on the hand, gently parted General Curtain and Barry Bear who were blocking his way, and took two steps forward. He pressed his palms together and silently bowed to Many-Eyes.
“Hmph, have you made up your mind?”
Raising his head, Tripitaka looked at Many-Eyes and said quietly, “Lord Many-Eyes, you are an old friend of the Great Sage. I truly do not understand why you say the Great Sage has been deceived by Buddhism.”
“You should ask yourself!” Many-Eyes glared at Tripitaka, snorting, “What trick did you use to beguile the Great Sage and lure him into your Buddhist trap?”
“The Great Sage travels west to oppose the Buddha; I journey for universal salvation. Along the way, we simply take what we each need. What trap is there?”
“Enough of your nonsense!” Many-Eyes spurred his warhorse to circle in place, pointing at Tripitaka and shouting, “I believe the Great Sage travels west to confront the Buddha, but your universal salvation—what is that supposed to mean?”
As he spoke, he raised his hand and took a longbow from a nearby Daoist, stringing an arrow without hesitation.
Before Tripitaka could react, Barry Bear and General Curtain each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him behind them.
Yet the arrow didn't fly toward Tripitaka.
With a sharp whistle, two monks collapsed instantly, dead before they could even cry out.
Warm blood slowly flowed across the ground. The surrounding monks screamed and wept, recoiling in terror like piglets awaiting slaughter.
“Uncle Master! Uncle Master! You can't die!” A young novice fell to his knees beside one of the dead monks, bawling uncontrollably.
The scene unfolded so suddenly that Tripitaka was completely stunned.
“Go on, save them! Your sentient beings are right there—show me your salvation!” As he spoke, Many-Eyes took another arrow, nocked it, and aimed at the monks who had retreated to the side.
The monks, terrified, shoved and squeezed with all their strength, desperately trying to push others in front of them to block the arrow's path.
“So, show me your universal salvation.” Many-Eyes the Centipede sat astride his horse, watching the monks' plight, grinning as he slowly drew his bowstring tighter. “I've seen everything these past two days. Salvation? Hah! Buddhism speaks of Eight Sufferings—birth, aging, sickness, death, hateful encounters, separation, frustration, clinging to the five aggregates. Today, I'll show you what true salvation means!”
Tripitaka gasped and tried to rush at Many-Eyes, but Marshal Silver, General Curtain, and Barry Bear held him back with all their strength.
“No, stop! Stop—!”
In the chaos, General Curtain raised a shield in the direction Many-Eyes was aiming, trying to block the arrow.
Yet before General Curtain could react, Many-Eyes had already shifted his aim to the child novice kneeling alone by the corpse, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Whssst—!”
With a flick of Many-Eyes' fingers, the arrow shot out, piercing straight through the child novice's temple, even grazing the thigh of another monk nearby.
A spray of fresh blood arced through the air.
The monk struck in the thigh screamed and staggered backward, only to be shoved forward by his own companion, collapsing onto the ground.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze.
Tripitaka's mind went blank. He stared, expressionless, watching as the child novice gazed upward in a daze, then lost all strength and quietly fell to the ground...
For a fleeting instant, it was as if the whole world had receded, leaving only silence.
All that remained in the world was the faint tremor of the child novice's fingers.
The next moment, everything seemed to awaken again—the monks' cries and wails still rang in Tripitaka's ears. Reality remained cruel, inescapable.
“Weren't we told they'd only kill him? Why are they killing us?”
“What is that monk still thinking about? Does he want us to die with him?”
“Didn't he say he'd save us?”
Tripitaka was not afraid of death; when he set out on the westward road, he had already put life and death aside. Yet these low, heavy mutterings still stabbed into his heart like a row of sharp blades.
Perhaps this is how the farmer felt after being bitten by the snake.
Suddenly, he gave a bitter smile.
“See, my universal salvation. Seven of the Eight Sufferings are gone in one stroke—only death remains. Hahaha!” Many-Eyes the Centipede let go of his longbow, collected himself slightly, then said coldly, “So? Is this not more efficient than your salvation? You’ve struggled here for two days—how many sufferings have you eased for them?”
Tripitaka clutched his chest, staring blankly at the blood-soaked body not far away, trembling slightly as he struggled to steady his breathing. His eyes were already tinged with red.
Barry Bear roared, “Aren't you afraid the Great Sage will punish you for this?”
“Silence!” Many-Eyes turned, pointing at Barry Bear and shouting, “I am King of the demon race—how could I become Buddhism's lapdog? Kill this heresy-spreading monk, and I will answer to the Great Sage myself! If he wants to kill or flay me, let him! Marshal Silver is Heaven's man, Ao Lie is the Third Prince of the Western Sea, General Curtain is a traitor to Heaven... But you, you are of Blossom Mountain, you are a demon! The Great Sage has been deceived, and you neither tried to stop him nor spoke against it—in fact, you helped the enemy! That is a crime—worthy of death!”
“You... I...”
“If you still know repentance, then do it before me—cut off this monk’s head!”
For a moment, Barry Bear was struck speechless, only able to mutter over and over, “It's not like that... It's not like that...”
A burly Daoist urged his horse forward, slowly approaching Many-Eyes and handing him a long sword.
Many-Eyes took the sword and, with a flick of his wrist, tossed it before Tripitaka with a clang.
He said coldly, “You heresy-spreading monk, show me your salvation. Kill yourself right here, and I won't harm a single soul present. Well?”
Staring at the sword on the ground, for a moment not only Tripitaka, but Marshal Silver, General Curtain, Barry Bear, and even Prince Adrian, the Little White Dragon, were stunned.
Tripitaka could feel it clearly: countless eyes were fixed upon him. The monks he had struggled to rescue were now waiting... for him to kill himself, so they could all be safe.
...
In the Netherworld, Saint Raymond and the Earth-Store King silently watched each other.
...
If Tripitaka killed himself, the monks would be saved. He would fulfill his promise, but he could never take another step westward. His grand vow of salvation would dissolve like a bubble.
If Tripitaka retreated... perhaps he could claim it was for the greater good, for the salvation of all realms, for the sake of proving the Way. Yet no matter the reason, his vow of equality would become a hollow joke. If his heart had already changed, what meaning remained in this journey west?
Staring at the sword lying on the ground, cold light glinting from its blade, Tripitaka truly hesitated.
Beside him, Marshal Silver gripped his wrist and whispered, “This is a provocation—don't fall for it.”
“No, this isn't a trick—it's reality.” Gazing at the corpse of the child novice in the distance, Tripitaka slowly shook his head. “This westward salvation is truly beyond the strength of one man.”
He smiled faintly. “If Tripitaka falls here, others can one day step over his bones and continue west. But if Tripitaka betrays his vow here, then from this day forward, the road west will never be spoken of again. One monk’s life is nothing.”
He smiled, and in that smile was a sudden sense of clarity—even Marshal Silver was taken aback.
This was not compromise, nor a tactical retreat—he was utterly sincere...
Breaking free from Marshal Silver's grip, Tripitaka walked step by step toward the sword and bent down to pick it up.
“This monk’s life, I offer now. I hope Lord Many-Eyes will keep his word and let them go.”
All around, everyone watched as, under the moonlight, Tripitaka raised the sword to his own throat, smiling faintly, his robe fluttering in the wind.
Calm, without a trace of fear.