Fangcun Mountain in Lingtai and Sanxing Cave in Xianyue were once a place for preaching and an isolated island that has been sheltered from the world for eternity.
Until that night, the natal colored glass lamp Sun Wukong left in the cave suddenly went out, the lamp base cracked, and the embers were cold. Subhuti sat there all night, and finally put the broken lamp into his sleeve, leaving behind a sentence: "I taught you seventy-two transformations, but I didn't teach you how to die before me."
He stepped out of the spiritual platform with one step. Behind him was a thousand-year-old cultivator, and in front of him was the wind and rain of the Three Realms.
The road to the west was filled with mist: the monkey tribe in Huaguo Mountain withered overnight, the book of life and death was quietly rewritten, the underworld was silent, and the gods were silent. And the "Victory Buddha" sitting on the top of Lingshan Mountain has a shining golden body but strange features. The world only knows that monkeys have achieved enlightenment, but only Bodhi knows that the body of the monkey who squatted on a stone to chew peaches and shouted "Master" with his neck stretched out has long since disappeared.
This time, we don't talk about fate and don't ask about the common people.
Bodhi stroked the sword, and the sword shone through the thirty-third heaven: "I only need one answer - who changed my apprentice?"
When the Heavenly Court blocks the way, he seals the Nantian Gate with one talisman; when the Lingshan Mountain presses to the top, he blocks the Leiyin Temple with one hand. The remnant soul warmed in the palm of my hand is becoming more and more vivid day by day, and it still has the same unruly tone: "Old man, don't just chant sutras, remember to help me collect debts!"
This is a long overdue reckoning. The founder went down the mountain not to learn scriptures, but to restart the bloody road with his own hands at the end of the journey to the west, which was woven with lies.
