The day Tang Sanzang awakened the memories of the Six-Winged Golden Cicada, the bells of Spirit Mountain rang seven times on their own.
He suddenly tore off his brocade cassock, revealing the fierce golden cicada tattoo on his back.
“Wukong, when you caused havoc in the Heavenly Palace, did you ever see the ferocious beast that devoured the Tathagata?”
“Bajie, when you commanded the Heavenly River Navy, did you ever hear of a golden cicada whose wingbeats could blanket the Three Realms?”
“Master remembers now. The Mahayana Buddhist teachings were mine all along.”
The Buddhas of Spirit Mountain trembled as they watched the scripture pilgrim crush the Grand Firmament. And the ones following behind him were no longer a pilgrimage team, but...
