Tripitaka fell silent—utterly silent.
For a moment, the atmosphere around them grew strange and tense. Marshal Silver, General Curtain, Barry Bear—each turned to look at Prince Adrian, even Jack Rivers was no exception.
"What, did I say something wrong?"
Prince Adrian, still angry, wanted to continue, but his hand was gently grasped by Jack Rivers, who lay beside him.
For a moment, Prince Adrian was taken aback.
Turning his face toward Tripitaka, Jack Rivers spoke softly: "Master Tripitaka, my cousin... he didn't mean it. Please don't blame him."
"No." Tripitaka slowly shook his head. "He was absolutely right. If I, the humble monk, hadn't assumed your protection and indulged in reckless compassion, how could things have come to this? In the end, all their suffering began with me."
Tripitaka looked at Prince Adrian, gave an awkward smile, and said nothing more.
That smile only made Prince Adrian feel even more uncomfortable.
Who could have expected things to turn out this way? Not one of them followed the Path of Enlightenment—and even if they did, could anyone have foreseen that Cartwright Kingdom would lay such a trap for them?
Ultimately, this was an accident that none wished to see; blaming one another was pointless.
Tripitaka said nothing more, and the others naturally fell silent as well.
In utter silence, time trickled by. The monks suffering from heatstroke grew weaker and weaker, while Tripitaka could only watch quietly.
Every heavy gasp from across the square was like an accusation echoing in his heart.
...
In the Netherworld, inside a small attic, Saint Raymond and the Earth-Store King sat quietly, gazing at each other.
"Buddhism values debate; without debate there is no clarity. But even more, it values action." Lowering his head, the Earth-Store King reached out and moved aside the bamboo slips in front of Saint Raymond—each representing the suffering of Tripitaka and his companions—then placed four more slips before him one by one: "Mortals suffer birth, aging, illness, and death. To be ill and receive no treatment, that torment is 'the suffering of illness.' The monks are afraid, timid, and accept forced labor; that is 'the suffering of death.' Both stem from 'the suffering of life.' To blame their suffering on Tripitaka is 'the suffering of resentment.' These are the four sufferings facing the monks of Cartwright Kingdom today. Tell me, do you think Golden Cicada can truly resolve them?"
Staring at the four bamboo slips on the table, Saint Raymond slowly shook his head. "I don't know."
"Nor do I," the Earth-Store King replied with a faint smile. "Let us wait and see. If Golden Cicada truly can resolve this centuries-old Buddhist dilemma, I will gladly follow his example. If not, at least the disciples' hopes will be set to rest. From this day forward, I will remember every step of Golden Cicada's westward journey."
Saint Raymond let out a helpless laugh. "You really are stubborn, aren't you?"