Sha Wujing: I’m Done Taking the Blame for These Nine Lives!

"What I tore open with my own hands was not the Book of Heaven, but the shackles of the workers in the Three Realms" - the author's self-comment When Sha Monk's roar surged out from my writing, I heard the sound of the bronze tripod breaking - that was the resentment of the nine reincarnations breaking through the glazed shell of the myth. This book was not written by me, but the blood and tears accumulated on the bottom of the quicksand river for thousands of years finally found the river bed of words. I am the deepest mark on Sha Monk's shoulder. When the heaven turned into a giant KPI production line, when the 81st Difficulty Difficulty turned into a farce of data manipulation, what I saw was more than the collapse of the myth? It is clearly the backbone of the Tudigong bent by excessive quotas, the trembling hand of the six-eared macaque holding the fake work badge, and the sigh of Guanyin Bodhisattva drowned in the to-do list. These fragments dug into my fingers and finally exploded from the tip of the pen into the surging blood red of the quicksand river. I intentionally put a ticket on Wukong's Golden Cudgel. When I froze Bajie's magical power, I heard countless workers smiling bitterly in front of the screen. Writing about the Three Realms as a big factory is not a joke - it is using the mirror of myth to see the cracks in the bones of reality. Those high-octane lines were not made up: "The project was pushed back seventeen times" was recorded in Sha Seng's fake diary, and the curse of "Let Lao Sha take the blame" vibrated in the echo wall every overtime night. But what hurts me the most is the protruding veins on Sha Monk's forehead during the decisive battle at Lingshan. What he fell to the ground was not only the ironclad evidence of nine lifetimes, but also the soul of a screw that finally refused to be digested. "Who made such a ridiculous process?!" When this question burned through the manuscript paper, my own fingers were trembling. This is not the climax of the novel, but the ultimate judgment of the rules themselves by all beings who are forced to become "consumables". Now you're saying this is a "workplace cool article"? Wrong. When Monk Tang asked, "Seeking the truth or licking KPIs?", When Sha Monk turned his experience of death into a tribulation of enlightenment, what I was burning were all the shackles of pretending to be reasonable. The resonance you hear between the lines is nothing but the echo of the gears of heaven that have already crushed the real world. The real ending of this book is not in the final chapter. When the Awakening Arhat by the New Liusha River stared at the ridiculous new process, the bulging veins tore the golden cassock - at that moment I became one with him. We are all traitors who are stung by the rules but insist on questioning the origin of the rules. The moment he finished writing, Sha Monk's torn chains were turning into thousands of meteors, falling towards all the people pretending to be asleep. If you feel a fire burning in your chest after reading this, it's not the remnants of the plot. It was awakened by the blood and tears of the ninth Sha Monk, and it belongs to the flame of awareness of all working Arhats - in the place where the shackles were cast, the true scripture was born! This scroll is not in the Western Heaven, but in the awakening crackling in your and my bones.