The Netherworld falls silent, its gaze devoid of pupils.
I am Di Ting. I hear no sounds, only cause and effect.
The westward journey plotted by the Spirit Mountain and the Heavenly Court has yet to begin, but its threads of cause and effect have already woven a net that covers the sky and earth.
Who is a pawn, who is the executioner, who is the puppet whose memories of nine lifetimes have been erased, and who is the remnant doomed to be silenced: it has all been decided.
I sit in the rain-soaked night in Chang'an, blindfolded, running a stall.
I do not speak, grow angry, ferry souls, or save anyone.
Only when someone comes seeking answers do I speak one heart-piercing truth.
The truth is the cruelest thing.
Gods and Buddhas are the greatest frauds.
Fate is the foulest thing of all.
And I am the only one who has read the entire script of the westward journey.
