In the dim glow of torchlight, Tripitaka sat quietly with eyes closed, his lips trembling as he recited scriptures in Sanskrit.
Lying on the straw mat before him was a middle-aged man, his face already tinged with blue.
On the other side of the corpse sat a middle-aged woman with a boy of only ten.
The boy clung tightly to the woman's sleeve, while the woman occasionally glanced at Tripitaka, her cheeks streaked with tears not yet dry.
"Mom... what is he doing?"
"Hush, don't speak. He's the one who killed your father."
As she spoke, the woman hugged her child tightly in her arms.
Throughout, Tripitaka continued to chant Buddhist scriptures with a calm expression, as if he had heard nothing.
After a long while, Tripitaka slowly opened his eyes, looked at the woman, and bowed deeply. It was impossible to tell whether he was bowing to the dead or to the bereaved.
The spacious room was filled with corpses, and countless family members stood at a distance, watching Tripitaka.
"I'm sorry, it's all this poor monk's fault."
In an instant, the woman covered her mouth, tears streaming down. She clung to her child with all her strength.
Tripitaka gathered his robe and slowly rose, step by step moving toward another corpse with no family beside it.
"Stop right there!" the woman suddenly shouted.
Tripitaka's raised foot paused slightly in midair.
The woman pressed her lips together, quietly watching Tripitaka's back.
In the dim firelight, his silhouette looked like a solid wall.
Countless eyes watched him in silence, their gazes like arrows trying to pierce Tripitaka's body.
After a moment, Tripitaka's toes touched the ground softly, and he continued walking to the side.
"Stop right there! Give me back my husband's life!"
The woman tried to rush forward, but was firmly held back by two attendants. Yet while they stopped the woman, they failed to stop the child.
The boy broke free from his mother’s grasp, darting to Tripitaka like a slippery fish, grabbing his hand and biting down hard!
For a moment, everyone was stunned, staring at Tripitaka and the child clamped onto his hand.
Someone whispered, "Will something happen... His monkey disciple is fierce..."
Another replied, "He shouldn’t... shouldn’t, right? Didn’t he say he was here to do good? Surely he wouldn’t harm a child..."
For a while, no one knew what to do; they could only watch in silence as the child bit Tripitaka’s hand.
Tripitaka also lowered his head slightly, his expression calm, meeting the angry gaze of the child.
The boy gripped Tripitaka’s hand tightly, eyes wide with fury, biting down harder and harder until blood welled at the corner of his mouth. Only then did the crowd, as if waking from a trance, rush toward them.
But just as they reached Tripitaka, ready to pull the child away, Tripitaka suddenly raised a hand, stopping them.
Everyone froze, even the boy’s mother, who ceased her curses.
The boy, equally startled, loosened his grip on Tripitaka’s hand.
Under the gaze of all present, Tripitaka slowly squatted down, drew a handkerchief from his sleeve, and gently wiped the blood from the boy’s mouth.
"I'm sorry... From now on, with your father gone, your mother will have only you to rely on. You must grow up well and be filial, do you understand?"
As he spoke, Tripitaka smiled faintly and used his thumb to wipe the dirt from the boy’s cheek.
The boy stared blankly at Tripitaka, his long-suppressed tears finally sliding down his cheeks.
Rising to his feet, Tripitaka pressed his palms together and bowed to the woman, then to the boy, before turning and walking step by step toward the next corpse. Throughout, he never once glanced at his own bloodied hand, as if it did not belong to him.
For a moment, everyone began to whisper among themselves.
"Is this monk insane?"
"Could he really be mad?"
"I heard he was always a crazy monk. If he weren't crazy, how could he go around preaching about doing good? That's not even real scripture from Western Heaven."
"Nonsense," Monkey suddenly laughed. "What you ought to do is hurry and seek enlightenment, not waste your time here!"
Before Monkey finished speaking, Tripitaka pressed his palms together and began chanting again, ignoring him completely.
The conversation could go no further.
Helpless, Monkey could only snort coldly and turn to leave.
"How did it go?" As Monkey stepped out of the room, the others crowded around him.
Monkey shook his head. "Heaven knows," he said.
With that, he hefted his Golden Staff and strode off toward the palace.
...
"So the Great Sage means... Master Tripitaka is going to stay several days, performing rites for every departed soul?"
In the candlelit chamber, the Chancellor raised his head carefully to look at Monkey. Around him stood several ministers, survivors of the disaster.
At this point, the entire Dharma-Quest Kingdom was ruled by these few, with no new king yet chosen. The previous king had left no heir, so a long dispute would be needed before a successor could be born.
"That's right. So we're going to stay a few extra days. Is there a problem?" Monkey leaned back in his chair, propping his legs on the dragon desk.
The ministers, all sycophantic, looked up at him as if he were their lord.
"But... didn’t the Great Sage just say you’ve already made a pact with the immortals, to compensate the dead in future lives? If so, what’s the point of further rites for the departed?"
"Exactly, exactly, since there’s no need for further comfort, we needn’t trouble you all. It would be best to begin the journey soon."
Suddenly, everyone agreed, and the old faces broke into smiles.
Monkey swung his leg, and with a loud bang, his heel slammed onto the desk.
At once, everyone in the room lowered their heads in fright.
Leaning against the chair back, Monkey said coolly, "I’m not satisfied with your answer. Say it again."
For a moment, the ministers exchanged nervous glances.
After a long pause, the Chancellor, wiping cold sweat from his brow, said, "Great Sage... it’s not that we object, but we’ve already promised the immortals to hold a grand state funeral tomorrow. Once the bodies are buried... Master Tripitaka will have nowhere to chant."
"Tell them to delay the burial by two days. If they object, let them come talk to me!"
With that, Monkey hefted his Golden Staff and strode out, slamming the door behind him so hard the ministers nearly jumped out of their skins.
...
When he returned, Marshal Silver and the others were still waiting in the same spot.
"Where did you go?"
"Went to the palace to teach them some manners," Monkey replied. Then, peering through the window, he asked, "How is he doing?"
Marshal Silver sighed softly. "How do you think?"
Everyone fell silent.
Inside, Tripitaka dragged himself step by step to the next corpse, his footsteps faltering. It was as if he were possessed, unable to relax for even a moment.