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墨書 Inktalez
On the ruins of the Great Sage's domain, the air still carried the charred scent of the clash between demonic energy and Buddhist light.
I held the unconscious Zhu Bajie in my arms, my consciousness sweeping over his spiritual platform. Although the Purifying Buddha Light had been dispersed by my hand, its intent had been fulfilled—memories related to the "Western Journey Truth" had been precisely erased, leaving behind a void of chaos.
The clues had been severed. I had become a traitor to Ling Mountain, an aberration that shattered "purity," a solitary seeker without support. In the Three Realms, wherever the Buddha's light reached, it was a prison. Where could I go? Who could I trust?
As I sank into this corner of contemplation, a voice resonated not through the air but directly within my consciousness.
"Great Sage, come to You Ming."
The voice was old and gentle, imbued with a weariness that seemed to understand all things. It was Di Ting… Ksitigarbha?
Why would this being, who never involved himself in Ling Mountain's disputes, seek me out at this moment? Was it a trap or… my only path to survival?
"The World Honored One’s eye sees no error; You Ming is a crevice in the Three Realms where one can temporarily evade," Di Ting's voice echoed again. "Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva asks me to convey to you: 'Causality' is not 'Merit and Demerit.' If you wish to know the 'cause,' you may go to the Reincarnation Office and check a five-hundred-year-old 'Merit Roll.'"
Ksitigarbha? I had no deep ties with him; why would he risk defying the Buddha to guide me?
I had no time to delve into motives. In this dire situation, it was my only lifeline.
"Thank you." I laid Bajie down and set up a simple concealment barrier around him before transforming into an inconspicuous streak of light, heading straight for You Ming.
The underworld remained unchanged, filled with chilling winds and wails of ghosts. However, the Ten Yama Kings now regarded me not with flattery but with deliberate distance and wariness. News from Ling Mountain spread faster than I had anticipated.
Ignoring them, I made my way directly to the Reincarnation Office.
The archives of the Reincarnation Office were where karmic forces from the Three Realms converged, an intertwining of yin energy and resentment that even ghostly messengers seldom dared to tread.
Using the incantation given by Di Ting, I navigated through layers of restrictions and infiltrated the deepest part of the archives.
Here lay records of all beings involved in Great Karma and Great Merit since time immemorial. Each document was crafted from special materials to prevent karmic erosion.
On a shelf thick with dust, I found the record Di Ting mentioned. Its cover was dark gold, devoid of any name, marked only by a number imprinted with Buddhist law: "Jia Zi Ba Qian Jiu Bai Qi Shi Er Hao."
It was it.
The moment my fingertips touched the cover, they trembled uncontrollably. I took a deep breath, the air filled with the scent of dust and the decay of lost souls. The answer lay within.
Five hundred years of confusion, the shattering of the Golden Body, Bajie's fear, the Buddha's "restoration"… all the origins were contained in this scroll.
I pressed down with my fingers; the seemingly thin cover felt as heavy as a mountain. I summoned all the composure I had gained over five hundred years as the Demon Fighting Buddha to slowly peel it open.
The first page of the scroll bore an ancient Buddhist seal, inscribed with a title:
"On the Errant Nature of Yao Hou Sun Wukong and the Vast Compassion of the Buddha in His Rebirth."
My heart sank heavily.
I forced myself to read on.
"…His heart and nature are unruly and difficult to tame, ignorant of fate, disrespectful to gods and Buddhas; he is a demon transformed from a malevolent spirit in this world. He wreaked havoc in Heaven, causing suffering among living beings, his sins are boundless…"
"…Fortunately, our Buddha showed mercy, unwilling to let him fall into eternal damnation. With supreme magical power, he was subdued beneath Five Elements Mountain, reciting scriptures day and night to temper his ferocity…"
"…Later, following the pilgrim Xi Xing, he still did not change his wicked nature, abandoning his master several times and nearly ruining our Buddha's great plan for spreading teachings eastward. It was only thanks to the golden hoop that bound him, constantly reminding him, that he barely managed to fulfill his merits…"
"…Eventually arriving at Ling Mountain, his demonic nature was still not entirely eradicated. The World Honored One used great wisdom and power to cleanse his demonic bones, reshaping his Golden Body and bestowing upon him the title of Demon Fighting Buddha; this was through supreme Buddhist grace, forcibly altering his destined fall into Avici Hell's causality. This grace of rebirth should be remembered for all eternity."
Every word was inscribed with pure Buddhist doctrine, filled with an undeniable sense of "correctness." I recognized each character individually, yet together they formed a story that was completely foreign to me.
A thankless madman who should have faced eternal damnation was forcibly saved by the Buddha—a record of merit.
The demonic energy within me was "sin"; the Blood Sea in my Sea of Consciousness was "karma"; my suffering and pursuit were "unyielding wickedness." And the Buddha's confinement, erasure, and restoration were all acts of "compassion."
I stood frozen in place. In this entire "correct" order, I was the only unique and incomprehensible "error." My pursuit, my pain, my struggle were not only meaningless but deserving of death a thousand times over.
The scroll in my hand suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
I looked at each word inscribed above with the teachings of Buddhism, and they seemed to come alive, transforming into mocking faces that whispered in my ear:
"Accept your fate."
"You are a mistake."
"The Buddha is right."
I hoped to shatter them with my own hands.
My understanding was completely overturned.
The entire world had deemed me "guilty."
I slowly closed the document, producing a sharp "snap" that echoed painfully in the silence of the archive.
I felt no anger, no rage.
I simply found it… absurd.
Who am I, after all?
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