Twenty miles outside Chang'an City, in the Sutra Pavilion of Jinshan Temple, the lamp oil was almost exhausted.
The candlelight flickered, reflecting the smooth head and the densely packed regular script on the paper, which was a bit rigid.
Xuanzang, or in other words, the young monk who had changed his mind at this moment, was mechanically copying the Vajra Prajnaparamita Sutra.
My mind felt as if it had just been trampled by ten thousand grass-mud horses, and as if it had been stuffed into an entire boiling volcano.
A moment ago, he was an unlucky social beast who died suddenly while working overtime in the middle of the night in the 21st century. As soon as he closed his eyes and opened his eyes, he became Jiang Liu'er, Master Xuanzang, the imperial disciple of the Tang Dynasty who would go to the West to learn Buddhist scriptures in the future.
At this time, there are still less than three hours before the Xuanwu Gate incident...
