Donggua's gaze swept across the interior of the temple, only to discover that there were no Buddha statues inside. There was no incense altar, not even an offering table — only solemn Buddha images painted across the worn yellow mud walls, each one strikingly new.
The painted Buddhas were not large, but there were a great many of them, covering the entire wall and stretching away to either side.
The brushwork of the Buddhist paintings was crisp and clear. Upon closer inspection, the paint had not yet fully dried — evidently, the old monk painted them every single day.
All the Buddha figures were faceless, with only their eyes rendered. Depending on the Buddha, the eyes differed — some seemed compassionate, some wrathful, some questioning, and some sorrowful.
Donggua glanced sideways and noticed that even beneath the tree branch that had grown through the temple roof, the old monk had painted a Buddha figure.
That Buddha reached out to lightly pinch a green leaf, as though clasping vitality itself in its fingers.
Had these been ordinary paintings, they would not have been enough to astonish Donggua.
Yet standing where she was, Donggua felt as though every one of those faceless Buddha figures had turned their eyes toward her — as though examining her, yet also pitying her.
This was no mere trick of the imagination. Donggua's divine sense could also detect the faint, almost imperceptible probing emanating from the painted images.
Donggua's gaze shifted to the ancient monk who had just picked up his brush. His aura was profound — his cultivation was undoubtedly beyond her own. But to be able to paint with such divine grace... just how high must his cultivation be?
Mahayana... or Tribulation Crossing?
The ancient monk lightly dabbed his brush into the pigment resting on the ground and raised his hand to add strokes to the wall. He spoke softly.
"It has been a long time. Knowing your habits, I imagine you have come to me with more trouble."
Wukong folded his hands together in a deeply humble bow.
"There is an important matter for which I seek your aid, Venerable One."
"That title does not befit me," the ancient monk chuckled softly, carefully tracing the folds of a Buddha's robe. "Even if you wish for my help, I may not agree."
Wukong stepped aside and gestured for the ancient monk to look at Donggua.
"I naturally could not persuade you on my own, so I brought someone else along."
The ancient monk paused his brush and turned his gaze toward Donggua, whose expression of shock had not yet faded. His eyes lowered slightly as he looked back at Wukong, and he spoke in a quiet voice.
"Your heart leans toward righteousness, but your methods are... difficult to speak of."
Wukong replied with a steady tone.
"I do not seek to become a Buddha. Being a Wrathful Arhat is enough."
The ancient monk laughed softly and shook his head. His brush danced lightly, sending particles of pigment drifting like dust and smoke through the faint sunlight, floating gently toward Donggua.
In the dim light, the unremarkable wisps of dust were nearly invisible — yet they effortlessly veiled Donggua's eyes.
Donggua noticed nothing amiss, but she could no longer hear the two men's conversation clearly.
The ancient monk set down his brush and surveyed Donggua once more before asking.
"Is this the demon you spoke of? You provoked her emotions along the way, did you not? The six desires are in disarray — wrath and fear have risen above her divine nature."
Wukong nodded gently.
"Otherwise, even if I brought her before you, you might not have noticed anything wrong."
The ancient monk sighed softly.
"These are truly troubled times... This world no longer resembles the mortal realm — it is more like hell."
"You, I, and all others stand apart from it, yet the mortal realm has become hell itself." Wukong's gaze fell upon Donggua.
"Though you reside in this small courtyard, news from all directions must still reach your ears."
"Xuanqing Heavenly Sect, Taidao Sect, Tianyan Sect, Chu Xingchen, Xu Jin... and Bai Xuanling, who has once again drawn her sword at the peak of Tribulation Crossing."
"When all is said and done, what does any of this have to do with them? If the Eighteen Immortal Sects are to perish, they will be the last to die."
"How can the fate of all living beings truly rest on a single person?"
"You have painted for so long — have you truly attained enlightenment?"
The ancient monk pinched his brush and reached out to point at the space before Donggua, stopping just one finger's breadth away. On the mural, the eyes of the faceless Buddhas shifted, all turning to gaze at Donggua — as though trying to see her with perfect clarity.
The look of terror on Donggua's face grew more pronounced. Her pupils trembled faintly, and her body wanted to struggle, yet she could not move a single inch.
"Enlightenment I have found," the ancient monk said, his clear eyes carefully studying the expression within Donggua's own. "But you may not wish to hear it."
"Since this is a great tribulation, no one can stand apart from it — not even I. So tell me, how do you wish me to help you?"
Wukong pressed his palms together, his tone solemn.
"There are two matters in total. The first is to paint a new identity for Donggua — to conceal the karmic currents that surround her, especially the lifeblood within her body. She may prove greatly useful. At present, she is the only one I can use."
The ancient monk's expression grew somewhat complicated.
"That is somewhat troublesome. Tell me the second matter first."
Wukong stepped forward.
"I fear a true upheaval within the Buddhist Sect. If you could return, you would serve as a stabilizing force. Furthermore, the Buddha beneath the pagoda in the Western Continent has already manifested. Before coming to see you, I went to meet him in person."
"He directed me to seek out Chu Xingchen. It has long been known that Tianyan Sect follows the Mandate of Heaven, and Chu Xingchen's ties to Tianyan Sect run deep."
"Moreover, Xu Jin of Xuanqing Heavenly Sect is also closely connected to Chu Xingchen — and that was once the locus of the Heavenly Mandate."
"The great debate of the Mahayana era may well have had hidden circumstances we do not yet know."
"Furthermore, Chu Xingchen said that the Buddhist Sect is no longer the Buddhist Sect. Now that he speaks these words, they may carry the weight of the Heavenly Mandate."
"Finally, whether you return to the Buddhist Sect is not for me to decide. But whether you should return — surely you understand that better than I."
The ancient monk laughed at these words.
"These old bones of mine are about to be ordered about until they fall apart. But I have one small question — why are you so deeply invested in all of this?"
Wukong looked at the Buddhas painted across every wall.
"Because I am human — not a Buddha."
The ancient monk laughed heartily.
"I have painted Buddhas for a hundred years, yet perhaps I have not attained as much enlightenment as you."
"Go and do what you must. You need not worry about things here."
Wukong promptly turned and bowed.
"I am deeply grateful for your trouble. The disguise need not be overly elaborate — this person was recommended to me by Chu Xingchen. I will bring her to see Chu Xingchen shortly, so she must still be recognizable."
The ancient monk lifted his brush and extended it toward Donggua's face.
"Wait outside."
Wukong immediately withdrew and stood beneath the great tree in the courtyard.
Snow drifted down. The sun rose and the moon set.
Several days later, the worn doors of the temple slowly swung open.
The ancient monk emerged first. Donggua followed, her gaze somewhat vacant.
Wukong looked at Donggua. Her face had not changed, but the divine sense she unconsciously radiated had been completely altered.
Wukong hurried forward, examined Donggua briefly, then pressed his palms together and bowed deeply to the ancient monk in gratitude.
The ancient monk smiled and waved his hand lightly through the wisps of dust that still swirled before Donggua's eyes.
Donggua's eyes instantly regained their liveliness. Her gaze swept to the two men, and she quickly confirmed her bearings. She keenly sensed that something was wrong and demanded in rapid succession.
"What have you done to me?"
"Since we need you to meet Chu Xingchen, we naturally had to take certain measures," Wukong replied calmly. He then looked at the ancient monk. "Since the matter is settled, we will not impose further on your peace."
The ancient monk waved dismissively.
"Go, go. It is rare to find a quiet place, yet I still cannot escape your habit of dragging people here."
Wukong bowed once more, then seized the arm of a furious Donggua and pulled her along.
Donggua planted her feet, her face twisted with rage. Spiritual power churned around her body as though she intended to resist to the very end.
Wukong sighed softly at the sight.
He raised a gleaming golden fist and drove it straight into Donggua's skull.
Before Donggua could even open her mouth to curse him, Wukong's next fist came crashing down, cutting short whatever she had been about to say.
The ancient monk opened his mouth as though about to speak.
Wukong raised his fist again and looked up at the ancient monk.
"Would you like a couple of punches too, to vent your frustrations?"
The ancient monk hastily shook his head.
"That will not be necessary... Do as you please."
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