This is a story about "compassion". Master Tripitaka firmly believed that he had found the only path to bliss - purification. Monsters are not monsters, people are not humans, anyone who blocks the road is an obstacle, and anyone who is ungodly is dust. Wherever the brocade cassock passed by, the flesh and blood became incense, and the bones turned into a platform. He walked on the lotus path paved with corpses towards the pure land he considered himself. There is no great sage shaking the sky, no heavenly soldiers blocking the way, only his compassionate smile, chanting softly in the endless bloody dusk: "Namo Amitabha... Soon, we will be clean soon."
